Why you should celebrate your birthday, no matter how big of a failure you feel like you are
Your birthday is here, and people are asking how you’d like to celebrate: gifts, food, people to invite/get together with, what you want to do for fun…. And you have no idea what to tell them, because deep down--as hard as it feels to admit--you just want to shut yourself in an empty hotel room and not hear from anyone. Phone on silent, door locked, “do not disturb” sign guarding your solitude. Because deep down… you’re wondering what there actually is to celebrate. None of your clothes fit right anymore (not even close). Your bank account is depleted. Your house is a mess. You’re burnt out at work.. And your kids spent way more time on screens than you feel good about. Date nights with your spouse are either nonexistent or far from romantic, and you haven’t made out since who knows when. Dinner prep happens in a resentful rush, and any kind of extra volunteer work you attempt feels like a sad leftover offering. Life feels gray and dingy and bloated. There’s so much more you want to be able to do: outings with your kids, romantic getaways, new purses that actually go with your outfits, toenails that don’t look like neglected afterthoughts….Celebrate? Now? When you’re falling short in seemingly every life category?
Absolutely.
Here’s why.
Your birthday is a celebration of just that: your birth. The fact that you got here safely. That you got the chance to come here and learn and struggle and stumble. That you have a body at all (be it trim or squishy). That you are here (and, by the way, you would be greatly missed if you weren’t).
So celebrate by simply showing up. Just like you did the first time. And every day up until now. You’ve shown up with smiles and giggles, or with aches and tears. Confident or down in the dumps. You are here.
And you are you.
Let’s celebrate that.
When you first showed up as you, you didn’t have to say anything. You didn’t have to perform. You weren’t even wearing anything. And you likely responded to your drastic change in surroundings with a shrill, angry/shocked cry. And they celebrated. They celebrated that there was a you in the world. That’s what today is all about.
So put away those expectations; put away that never-ending list of who and what you’re not.
Because all that matters today is that you’re here. And that you’re you.
