Every year on my birthday, I want to cut my losses and run. Thanks parent, boyfriend, sibling, co-worker, friend, but the pressure of January 25th is too much. Although we've had a good run, I just can't take it. Thanks again, but sayonara. I'm going to move to a cave in the desert and try out that locust diet.
I've tried to get to the bottom of this existential birthday dread. Honestly, I tend to have a pretty good birthday. My parents never forgot to celebrate it, nothing terrible has ever happened on this day, I'm not afraid of getting older. What I think it comes down to is I have super conflicting feelings. I am both praying to Jesus and begging all the saints that I get a few Facebook notifications, while simultaneously thinking I should hide my birthday from the about section. I am holding my breath that I get flowers, but also willing that I don't because I can't deal with my coworker's reaction. I want elaborate gifts, and at the same time I want everyone to forget it. It's a conflict that no one can win, least of all me.
What's the remedy? I always fantasize about running away to Mexico. I could die my hair, don a pair of cat-eye vintage sunglasses and ride away into the horizon. Wait until the heat dies down a little bit. Or just live in total denial. Look quizzically at anyone who mentions this cursed day. Both seem pretty viable.
But something odd happened this morning. After getting in a fight with someone who definitely didn't deserve it, smashing my iPhone to the point I can't use it and falling of my bike at spin class, I felt a weird sense of relief. Today was just going to suck. Yes, yes I could make the best of the situation, see the silver lining and all, but it wasn't going to be perfect. So much of the pressure was taken off. I feel vaguely like I might cry, but that might be more related to my iPhone than I'm willing to admit. At this point, if the rain holds off and I don't end up with food poisoning, the day can only go up. Is that the solution? I don't know how I would ever replicate this, but it's working for now, so I'm not going to question it. I have another 364 days to figure it out.
Birthdays are hard. I'm hesitant to post this, because it might make me look cynical or depressed. But I'm guessing I'm not the only one to feel this way. In my 25th year, I want to be more honest. Or I'm having a quarter-life crisis. Either way, cheers to me. May my birthday continue to not be perfect and may I find happiness in that.
