So, my birthday is coming up here and it’s not so much a dreadful number as much as I have not enjoyed having a birthday since I was the age of…never. The month of September is known as Fall but it is also known for the return to school. As a result, when I was just a wee-little red-head (my size really hasn’t changed much), I would always be sick on my birthday and for my birthday parties. Of course now that I’m an adult and don’t have to go to school with snotty nosed children, I don’t get sick on my birthday…well, EVERY time at least. There is more reason than that behind my distaste for my birthday. I certainly don’t mind celebrating other people’s birthdays, but when it comes to mine I can’t help but grimace, whine, participate in some kind of prolonged panic attack followed by a series of self-inflicted interrogations about who I am, what am I doing, and why can’t I just enjoy a day all about me or at least gracefully suffer through it like normal people. Attention is something I don’t get excited about at least not in this fashion; even on Christmas morning the pressure of opening presents in front of someone is so much I almost have a mini-tantrum. I am truly apologetic for acting that way on both occasions; I really am grateful for my loved ones.
Since I started blogging, I’ve been following Fig Jam and Lime Cordial with devout envy of Celia’s wonderful cooking skills and creativity. Her post today inspired my post because as mentioned above, I’m participating in a prolonged panic attack over my upcoming birthday and when I saw these it just gave me a little hope that maybe this year’s birthday would be a chance to change and come out a butterfly. I’m not sure if I’ll ever enjoy my own birthday the way that most do but if I could love myself a little more and learn to be a little more flexible maybe I learn to stop stressing the small stuff.
