When I was a kid, my birthday was my favourite day.
Sure, Christmas was fun, Easter was cool and Halloween was undeniably the best and most awesome holiday. But for someone who never felt like she could ask for what she needed and desperately craved love and attention from her family and friends, my birthday was the single best day of the year.
At home, I got all of my parents’ focus and care. We would spend time together doing something fun and at the end of the day, it was up to me to pick what we had for dinner. Everyone watched as a I blew out my candles, and my mom always gave me a warm snuggle on the couch as we watched the film I had picked out for all of us to watch.
At school, all the kids had to be nice to me. The teacher paid special attention to my work, and I always got to be her special helper in class. My friends would let me play with my favourite toys at recess, I was never “it” in grounders and I always got a seat on the highly sought after swing set.
Sure, the presents were pretty awesome; that much is obvious. But the day itself? Nothing was going to top that.
I was 18 when things changed.
Growing up, adulthood felt so far away, a distant destination at the end of the long road I had been travelling on since birth. A place that I never thought I’d get to. A scary bedtime story my parents told when they wanted to remind me to live in the moment. Even when I started university at 17 years old — an event that marks the end of childhood for so many — the idea of adulthood still didn’t feel real to me. Like somehow, the moment the clock struck midnight on October 20, time would stop and I would cease to exist.
That isn’t exactly how things worked out.
Instead, I woke up on my 18th birthday as an unwitting adult, an involuntary participant in an experiment I didn’t know I was engaging in. Despite all the odds, adulthood had found me, and I had no idea how I was supposed to proceed. When I blew out my candles that night, the only thing I could think to wish for was the ability to turn back the clocks and do it all over again.
Suddenly, birthdays weren’t nearly as fun as they used to be.
Since then, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about getting older; it garners a fluttering feeling around in my stomach like a kaleidoscope of butterflies I can’t get to settle. Every year, my birthday reignites a burning flame of anxiety that reminds me that another year has passed and I, against my will, am growing up. It’s not an enjoyable way to spend what is supposed to be one of the most joyful days of your year.
This birthday, I tried a different approach.
Instead of pushing my friends and family away in an effort to wallow in my own sadness and regret, I surrounded myself with the people that I loved deeply, forcing myself to accept the support they wanted to give me. I gave myself permission to be happy, acknowledging that while getting older is scary, a birthday is a special day that is meant to be celebrated with everyone who cares about you.
Although it didn’t feel like much at first, it made an unbelievable difference. By letting go of my fears and dissolving into the love I was surrounded by, I was able to enjoy my birthday a great deal more than I had in a long time.
I want to share with you that it’s okay to not like your birthday. It’s okay to be afraid of growing up. But I also want you to know that there are ways to make your day just as enjoyable as it was when you were a kid. Although I know that not everyone will be as lucky as I was on my birthday, enveloped in the love of friends and family, I implore you to allow whatever community you have to wrap you up on your special day. No matter who you choose to surround yourself with, allow yourself to have these special moments of celebration because you are worth it.