It’s that time of year again. The dreaded birthday.
Why do most of us dread it and others actually enjoy the snot out of it?
Is it the getting older thing? or is there something else? Maybe its the whole expectation thing. We expect others to figure out what to do for us on this “special” day to make us feel loved and happy. You know, Happy Birthday!
I’m a little concerned about the aging idea…but not completely. Sure, I don’t want to just get to the end of my days and wonder where did it all go. Obviously, I have this countdown in my head of things I want to accomplish by 40 (did I just write that?). But I’m not THAT afraid of wrinkles and gray hairs, at least that’s what I’m telling myself this year. So yeah, aging does creep into my mind every now and then. On my birthday though, it is more about the lack of happy in the Happy Birthday not the aging that gives me the birthday blues.
Here’s the deal, no one can make me happy but me. Not my husband, my children, my mother, sister, friends…no one but me. It’s this revelation that makes this day so heavy. Do I know what makes me happy? How do I go about making myself happy? It is just so much easier to blame everyone else, isn’t it?
They say it’s your birthday. How do you wish yourself a ‘Happy Birthday’? This year I am going to spend some time thinking about what makes me happy.
Here it goes.
Hopefully I will get a chance to enjoy all of these things on my (gulp!) 37th birthday. I am sure that I will be woken up with hugs and kisses from my favorite people, a large cup of coffee and an opportunity to create my own happiness on my special day. Until then, I’m just going to pretend I’m still 29…
If this post got you wanting more birthday stories, check out this one!
