every year, i attempt to boycott my own birthday (today is my birthday)
if birthday's are a celebration of life, why am i always mourning mine?
As you read this, it is my 24th birthday—it’s also Halloween (spooky). I’ve read many personal essays and articles about young women who dread their birthdays and for a multitude of reasons. One of my favourites was written by the lovely Emilie Mendham called ‘Why Do I Always Cry On My Birthday?’
I think it mostly comes down to the fact that their day, their one day, never quite goes the way they’d want it to. I know that’s the case for me. Last year, when I was in a nine-month situationship (we’ll discuss at some point), he finally confessed his liking (not even love) for me a few days before my birthday…and then only wished me happy birthday when I messaged him by chance. My head lies in my palms, also - glad we could share that bonding moment.
This year, I actively decided to boycott my birthday…somewhat. “I just don’t want to be disappointed,” I told my loved ones. Now, I was conscious that I didn’t want them to think they were the problem. As a self-proclaimed perfectionist, I go into every year knowing exactly what I want for my birthday and how I want to be celebrated; I’ll drop hints or speak in great detail to people about my ideas for it, and yet August rolls around, and I know, it won’t happen. In the end, something gets organised in a pub somewhere in London a week before my birthday. And I’m GRATEFUL, that’s not up for questioning. I appreciate that it’s a blessing to be loved in the immense amount that I am, and I will use any excuse to sit and just be with the people I love.
But for just one year, I want it to happen the way that I’ve always dreamt it would: a birthday bash. Not quite in the Sweet Sixteen fashion that we’d watch unfold on MTV on Saturday nights, but something relatively similar. I want to say I’m not expecting a car, but I am, @ Dad. Also, I can’t drive legally yet xxx Either way, in this subby1, we will attempt to dissect and address the ‘birthday blues’ phenomenon and why it affects so many across the world every year.
In a 2022 Refinery29 article, psychologist Ash King told Alexandra Roster that “people who get down on their birthday might be confronting fears of getting older and facing their own mortality.” King also mentions “reflection on unrealised hopes, vanished expectations and past failures,” feeling “overwhelmed by the pressure to feel happy and joyful on this day that is routinely dedicated to celebrations,” and that it may “also activate traumatic memories.” Sadly, I relate to all of these.
I’m careful with what I share through these substacks because I don’t quite want them to be a diary, but once upon a time, it was hard to picture life beyond the age of 19. Five years later, we’re here, and honestly, all I’ve done is try my best—perhaps too hard at times—with what I’ve been given. But what I can never shake on October 31st every year is this eery sense of mourning and grief.
This year, I’ve never encountered those two feelings more in a literal sense, having suffered some familial losses and broken down relationships. This is a non-negotiable part of life; there is nothing we can do to alleviate or stop these, although God knows how much I wish I could at times.
Two years ago, in a Reddit chat created by the r/infp page in October 2008, user kitcat102 posed the question: ‘Does anyone else get super depressed on their Birthday?’ Many of the responses discussed not feeling like they had achieved enough, with their birthday as the milestone, and I find that ironic. Surely, our birthdays should be the days where we just exist simply because two people decided to get crunk? Even at work, some places allow their employees to have their birthdays off because, universally, it’s understood that birthdays should be a celebration and an absence of responsibility, especially professionally.
It dawns on me frequently that we’re gradually losing our ability to simply be. There’s a worldly, societal checklist that has been created and set, perhaps more so with the prominence of social media, that disables us from living as freely as we were (probably) supposed to. Lifelong relationship by 18, degree by 21, home by 24, marriage by 27 (28, no ifs, buts or maybes), and your first child by 30 (if not earlier for women because of our ‘biological body clock, although Gisele Bündchen has just announced her third pregnancy aged 44). How boring would life be if we all stuck to this timeline? Also, would the world not be severely overpopulated? We can’t even hack Oxford Street on a Sunday anymore.
I think it’s important to recognise that there’s nothing wrong with being ambitious. I think that’s growing amongst younger generations as the privileges that were afforded to older generations seem less solid and sure for us. All of those mentioned markers are incredible feats, still, and deserve to be celebrated — but so does everything else? I’m going to be a hypocrite because I don’t extend this same grace to myself, but we absolutely should celebrate making it to the gym after not going for months, that first walk to your local newsagents when you haven’t left your bed in a while, committing to reading and finishing a book, even if it’s less than 200 pages, and (potentially controversial) responding to those iMessages that you saw come through but mentally replied to four days ago.
If you’re reading this, chances are that, in more ways than one, you are pretty fortunate. I don’t want to be that person who involuntarily brings in our friends in other, scarier parts of the world who unfortunately haven’t been dealt the same cards as you and I, but we’ve seen how bad things could be, and they’re not.
Personally, this year, I’m mourning the relationship I’ve longed for for the last seven years. I’m not sharing this for dating requests, by the way :) I have sat, hands crossed in my lap, as friends, mutuals, peers and well, (it feels like) everyone else has been ‘rewarded’ with a romantic relationship. For some reason, beyond my human comprehension, it has not happened for me yet…in any capacity. My own fears have poisoned what could just be life’s flow (for me) and turned them into a wrestle with my self worth and a consistent undercurrent of inadequacy, even whilst experiencing incredible highs in other aspects of life. Somewhere along the line, I placed myself under an incredulous amount of pressure to be in the romantic relationship that would end in the marriage, kids, homes, cars, sports days (I’ll be a soccer mum), and ballet performances (and I’ll also be a dance mum, duh?). This is CRAZY, and yet I won’t budge on softening this load for myself, and it has meant I’m going into my 24th (Kobe) year mourning parts of a life that perhaps are non-existent for my greater good.
In all of these burning desires and thus burning questions and brewing frustrations, a level of self-awareness is required. You have to shake yourself and just be like:
So, I don’t have a man…and? Truthfully, there are things I want more (much, much more) than a relationship with the opposite gender (trust me, my goodness); I would love to own multiple properties one day. As mentioned previously, I would like to drive legally (before my…25th…scream, it’s just fundamentally illegal otherwise, right?), and I want to move to New York (I think, don’t hold me to it…or do). And I’m making all of the necessary steps to doing those things, granted, with blips in the road, of course. And King, the psychologist from the Refinery29 article, said that it was necessary to "respond to these thoughts and feelings with kindness and compassion. After all, it’s human to feel sad and to experience disappointment and regret."
Naturally, I want to finish these subby’s and feel that ‘there’s something we can learn here’ or maybe we’re just having a girly chat in a rather restrictive matter - whatever! In this moment, I’m reminded of an English lesson in year 12 when I asked my teacher why the literature we studied was so depressing. “Well, because it's easier to write about,” she said matter-of-factly. Needless to say, though my jaw did drop, it was relatively brief. Only the British education system would mess with our mental wellbeing so overtly. But it’s kind of similar to birthday blues; it’s very easy to think about all of the things that haven’t happened or are yet to in a life not yet fully lived and dwell in them. It’s very easy to want something we’re simply unprepared for, and that lack of preparation is not always bad. Often, it’s protection.
To end, here are 24 things I’m thankful for:
God.
Any and every moment shared with my cunty’s.
I was in long-distance relationships with two of my best friends and they’re back now.
The job or roles I dreamed of doing as a young girl, I get to live out.
My family is safe, sound and full of love and I see and feel more of them in me all the time.
Spaghetti bolognese has been my favourite meal for 18 years and it gets better and better.
My baby (18-year-old) brother…he’s just everything to me. He started university this year; the second grandchild in our family to attend.
My faith is a rollercoaster ride but it’s growing upwards and the community that accompanies it is one of the most beautiful bonds I’ve encountered.
I went to New York and Paris this year — the latter twice — and these were DREAM destinations for me.
I started reading more consistently again.
I’ve witnessed some beautiful autumnal sunsets.
Even when I was ‘jobless’, I had jobs (lol).
The parents of the kids I babysit told me I’m their favourite (obviously and naturally).
I bought an iMac all by myself and it has significantly helped my productivity, and therefore, my career in the short term.
I have friends that let me be passenger princess most of the time. (I just have the best friends EVER, I pray everyone gets to experience love like this
I’ve lost my voice to laughter countless times this year.
I’ve not had a fizzy drink in two months (!!!)
There are people looking out for me in all aspects of my life; my safety and wellbeing, my health, my heart, mentally and emotionally, my career, dreams and aspirations — the list is endless.
I almost got to see Arsenal win the premier league, and trust me, they’re going to do it again (my money’s on Ethan Nwaneri to take us to the tippity top).
A Lola’s Cupcakes opened up in the town centre.
Sushi is one of the few foods that doesn’t make my stomach hurt.
People have become less judgmental about my mushroom allergy xxx
Not paying for dairy alternatives in cafe’s.
I made it to year 24🩷 (the colour for this year is pink, 100%)
So, this year, I attempted to boycott my birthday2 but 2024 will be the last year I allow myself to wallow in the blues surrounding October 31st. Why am I giving myself more stress and pain when I was literally born on Hallo-bloody-ween? Strangers knock on my door unprovoked between 7 and 10 pm every year (?!?!) And rather than think of everything that is missing or the marker I’ve not reached or achieved yet, I pray that I will be still enough to just sit with the beauty and magic that occurs in life daily.
How blessed am I?
This is how I’m choosing to refer to the substacks because, well, why not?
To no avail. As we speak, I have already had one pre-celebratory birthday dinner, and I am set to have two more outside of my birthday xxx (Can’t wait for you to realise just how dramatic I am)