My birthday was yesterday. Please hold your applause.
Every year when my birthday rolls around I feel like crawling under a rock until it blows over. I get out of sorts in the days prior and breathe a sigh of relief the day after. It's been like this for a long time, since college at least.
I've been giving some thought to why this is, but haven't come to any conclusions.
I suppose it could have something to do with being slapped in the head with mortality. Every year is a reminder that I'm not going to live forever. And that is not the sort of mentality that inspires joy and celebratory feelings, is it? (Hey! You're another year closer to dead! Woo-Hoo!)
Or maybe I suffered psychological trauma in those years when my parents went on their yearly vacation over my birthday, leaving me with my babysitter. But she made the best cake, so it worked out okay.
I think, though, that it has to do with my Subconscious Response to Things. I was talking to my husband about this last night over dinner and I couldn't get him to understand what I was trying to say. He looks at his birthday as a day that he's special, it's "his" day; there's a party in his head.
I keep waiting for my birthday to make me feel special, like there's going to be a switch that flicks on, internally. Almost like it isn't in my control, but it should just happen. Does that make any sense?
He makes himself feel celebrated; I keep waiting for it to happen to me (I still feel this way even when I am being celebrated by other people, by the way).
It's hard to explain, but in my head it makes sense.