23. Birthdays
I turn 23 at the end of the month. And it’s time to re-parent my inner child around the celebration of my birthday.
My 5th birthday party. I don’t remember this boy but I seemed to like him!
My inner little one has had a tumultuous relationship with celebrating birthdays. In her experience, birthdays heighten expectations and the desire for belonging, which increase the potential for disappointment and shame.
In middle school, birthdays became a visual display of social acceptance. Picture 12-year-olds walking around with an assortment of up to 20 balloons tied to their backpacks. A public declaration of popularity…or lack thereof. What if you received no balloons on your birthday, or even worse, only one balloon? At least if you didn’t get any balloons, no one would know it was your birthday. You’d feel hurt and forgotten, but at least you could avoid public embarrassment. Because if you got one balloon, everyone would know it was your birthday and that you only received one balloon celebrating that fact. Your social worth equated to the number of balloons you received. Clearly, my 12-year-old self still feels some type of way about this.
In high school, this dynamic persisted, except with locker decorations replacing balloon bouquets. And, since we’re in America, the Sweet Sixteen was thrown into the mix. In a NYT article from 1978 on the phenomenon of the Sweet Sixteen, the author writes about how this social ritual “probably originated as a way of introducing the girl to the task of being a hostess, to the acquisition of social skills.” Not much has changed in the past four decades. Because for my 16th birthday, I planned a multi-phase, multi-location, multi-day hoopla. I cared more about making sure my friends had a good time than about how I really wanted to celebrate. I craved social acceptance. And I ended that birthday in tears. Alongside 12-year-old me, my 16-year-old self still yearns for my care and compassion.
From this past wounding, I’ve conditioned myself to release all expectations around birthdays. And I’ve had wonderful birthdays since then. But there’s healing left to be done.
Inspired by Lindsay Mack’s teaching of the Four of Wands, as I look ahead to future birthdays, I want to let go of old paradigms of celebration (like the Sweet Sixteen) that tell us what to celebrate, how to celebrate, and who to celebrate with. As my inner child can attest, these paradigms can set us up for pain and disappointment.
Instead, how can I reclaim celebrating my birthday in a way that aligns with who I am?
Maybe there’s no singing “Happy Birthday”. I once held paper plates up to my ears to block out the voices singing “Happy Birthday”—6-year-old me was not a fan of being the center of attention.
Maybe I don’t open any physical presents, but instead receive priceless gifts of words, shared experiences, and quality time.
Maybe celebrating my birthday means expressing gratitude to all the people who’ve helped me along the way.