The quiet humiliation of a birthday
What is a birthday if not an opportunity for a little cry?
If there’s ever a day when the world should revolve around you, it’s your birthday. In an ideal world, you’d wake up in a comfy bed next to your favourite person where you’d be delivered your dream breakfast (*that’s a lie, I don’t believe in food in bed), you’d then potter around completing a medley of your favourite activities under the warm beams of the sun, hang out with your friends and family who all happen to be in great moods and say nice things to you, then call it a day wearing a large, contented smile. ‘How lucky am I?’ you’d think.
Except, the world does not revolve around you, or me for that matter. We are not the main character. We are part of an enormous ensemble cast comprised of different characters, storylines and objectives. The sun does not know it’s your birthday. The bus driver doesn’t care that it’s your big, special day. The shop might not have the ingredient you’re looking for. The waiter might forget to put through your order. These are the facts of life.
After a few trips round the block (I hasten to add that I am 28, not 60), I’ve realised that as much as I try to mitigate these circumstances, my birthday is an occasion that is always accompanied by a few little tears. Sometimes it’s a brief weep, sometimes it’s a wailing sob, and it could be about anything from my boyfriend leaving his passport on an interconnecting flight meaning I had to abandon him in Dubai airport (last year), to feeling stressed because I didn’t want to get a takeaway (this year). In fact, my first memory of feeling sad on my birthday was when I was six years old and my hair caught fire while I was blowing out my candles. If that’s not a lesson in Sod’s law! And it stank.
The birthday cry can take place at any point before, during or after the day itself. What makes it a birthday cry is that it is in some way related to the birthday itself. The most common reasons, according to a psychologist on the internet, are the period of reflection that comes with getting older, a fear of ageing, if you dislike being centre of attention and a fear of disappointment.
I’m sure my birthday cries have ticked all those boxes over the years, but sometimes it’s not even that profound. It’s just a release of pent-up emotion on a day layered in memories, rooted in reflection and garnished with expectation – one that most of us don’t get to share with anyone else.
That’s not to say I spend my birthday alone. Cmon! I’m not that sad. But by virtue of us all having individual birthdays, we experience those feelings at different times, which makes them harder to discuss and potentially harder to process.
It’s interesting because as a #society we are getting much better at understanding how challenging different celebrations can be. We know that a lot of people dread Christmas, even if we love it ourselves, we understand that Mother’s Day and Father’s Day are shit times to be on social media if you’ve lost that person, and we’ve come up with myriad ways to celebrate Valentine’s Day, if you are that way inclined.
There’s no given time to discuss birthdays, though, is there? Because it wouldn’t really make sense. I’ll forget about mine next week (once I’ve rinsed my miniature celebrations) and won’t think about it again until next April. I’ll pack away my drama queen tiara, retire my temporary angst and turn my attention to the next person’s birthday like a game of pass the parcel. I’m pretty sure I’ll enjoy their’s more anyway.
What I dislike about my birthday:
Coming up with a plan that involves more than 5/6 people
Setting up a group chat and no one replying
Setting up a group chat and people only replying to say they can’t come
Setting up a group chat and realising you forgot to add people, then adding them and thereby exposing that you forgot to add them
Having to call or email different pubs to book an area (does admin get more tedious than this?)
People messaging a few hours before to say they can’t come
The little window before anyone arrives when you are either sat on a long table with one or two peers, or sat at home surrounded by empty glasses and little canapés
The inevitable mood lull that comes with the day
Receiving a present I don’t like and feeling like a complete prick
Feeling pressure to enjoy myself because it only happens once a year
Why I like other people’s birthdays:
They often comprise of the same people you’d have at your own, but without any of the aforementioned group chats, booking stress or cancellations
It’s fun to give someone a present if you think they’re going to like it
Birthday cards <3
Cake, pubs, restaurants, chatting, singing etc
It feels chic to get the tube carrying flowers or a ‘gift bag’
If you’re not that close, you can arrive late and leave early
If you are close, you can have the best day/ night without it being all about you
The role of vibe supplier is far superior to that of vibe manager
Happy birthday to me but, more importantly, happy birthday to you!
Until next year x