I dreaded my birthday. Again.
This is only the second year I’ve felt like “It’s my party and I’ll be depressed if I want to.” I know a lot of adults, particularly women dread the age incline, but honestly that doesn’t bother me. I mean, we’re all going to get old at some point so why try to fight that fight? Sorry hun, you’re aging. Get over it.
With it now being two years in a row, I began to wonder if maybe I was missing something. Is birthday dread a normal phase of midlife age denial? Perhaps I’m at the early stages of perpetual birthday grumpiness – like becoming that old lady on the Hallmark Shoebox birthday cards. You know, Maxine with the RBF and Transition glasses that are always over-activated.
I refuse to be Maxine.
I decided there has to be more to this birthday dread. Wanting to get that day over with wasn’t my M.O.
I took a note from my counselor’s book (yep, going to one now) and worked on becoming more observant to figure out what was triggering this dread. I noted a few things.
1. I was doubling down on working through my anxiety.
2. I kept forgetting my birthday was coming up.
3. I was stressing about what to do for my husband’s upcoming big milestone birthday.
4. I was trying to get back to managing the kids’ back to school schedules and activities while working from home.
5. I was trying to not think about how much I miss my dad, just after the one-year anniversary of his death.
6. I have new emerging feelings in mourning the loss of my mom almost five years ago.
What I found is that if it wasn’t for number 1, I wouldn’t have realized that number 2 was caused by using numbers 3 and 4 as a way to avoid processing feelings about number 5 and 6, and the emerging number 1.
Gold star for you if you tracked with that!
Because damn it – I feel like I need a gold start for cracking that nut! It’s exhausting figuring out the obvious when you’re so busy hiding your feelings by trying to toughen your exterior. I’m also really good at conjuring up new distractions to have to face my feelings. Plus, God forbid I ever just talk about any of it with anyone. Because then I might cry and if you’ve read my previous blog posts you’ll know how much I love crying.
In sum: I’ve lost both of my parents before I hit the age of 40. I’m an adult orphan and I have unresolved feelings about that…so…I’m pretty sure this is where the birthday dread is coming from.
Mind you, I figured this all out the night before my birthday as I was lying in bed trying to get to sleep, mentally preparing myself for the “big day”.
As I had this midnight epiphany, I began to think about the old days when I loved my birthday. I went through a quick mental inventory of my favorite birthday memories. There were always parties. No matter if my parents were short on cash or my mom was sick (which she was often), there was still a celebration. Friends and family came over, there was always lunch – mom didn’t believe in having people for a party if you didn’t feed them. And the cakes! Mom wasn’t a baker so I grew to love and adore boxed strawberry cake every single year for my birthday from as far as I can remember. A tradition my husband even carried over when we dating and away at college.
I eventually fell asleep.
In between the morning snooze alarms, this birthday girl thought about my kids. As a mom, I’ve carried over the same attitude about birthday celebrations to my kids. I tend to go overboard for birthdays for my nuggets in order to make them feel extra special for simply being alive – being them.
It’s then that I realized maybe I’ve been thinking about my birthday the wrong way this last couple years.
Fact – when you lose your parents, a part of your birthday happiness is going to die with them.
I didn’t know this. I couldn’t have prepared for that. Once you realize there will never be any more surprise visits paid to you, there will be no more special birthday dinners of your favorite home-cooked meal (pozole for me) and there won’t be a happy birthday phone call – to which you reply “Thanks for birthing me.” – because yes, every year I’d say that, you really feel their death all over again.
Fact – once you have a family, new birthday happiness is born.
This is the fact I realized on the morn’ of my 39th birthday. The gift I ended up giving myself.
I may be an adult orphan, but I’m not abandoned. I have my family. My parents may not be here but I have a husband and three kids who are pretty stoked that I was born and have been planning for a week what to get me for my birthday, including a fully cooked home breakfast because that’s a family tradition. Not of my childhood, but theirs.
This is the official passing of the torch. My parents’ legacy lives in me and how I create birthday traditions and celebrations with my kids.
I ended up having a great birthday. Despite my husband running out of time to bake my boxed strawberry box cake – Jillian was upset about that almost as much as me because…tradition. Despite my other daughter Emma being a turd at dinner because Jillian got to order a regular entrée and not a kid’s meal. Despite my son Zander refusing to go to bed that night. I had a great birthday because I chose not to dread my birthday after all.
Bye, Maxine.
Instead, I said a quiet “Thanks for birthing me.” to my parents. And I lived in the moment with my legacy.
Midlife Mamacita 