My merry unbirthday
Today is my birthday. I'm 35.
I have to admit, I find birthdays to be just a hair traumatic. When I was a kid I don't think I ever felt that way, nor did I ever have a traumatic birthday that I can recall. Okay, that's a lie. 15, 16, 21, 25 and 30 all come to mind. Aside from those, however, I have had plenty of happy birthdays and the memories to go with.
I suppose if you conisder the phenomenon of anniversary reactions related to traumatic experiences, and that birth itself is traumatic, it all makes sense.
Imagine the impression that vaginal birth leaves on a newborn's psyche. We go from floating weightless in a place that is safe, completely contained, dark, quiet and where all our needs are met effortlessly to violently thrust into a cold, sterile, bright and noisy room where someone (our mother, presumably) is screaming in agony, our ears yanked by a pair of strange hands prying us free of our happy place. It sounds awful - it must have been awful but none of us remember.
I'm sure the psyche does.
If you're like me, where even seemingly small and/or positive life events require acknowledgement of the loss of what was and a minor grieving process, then you probably get a tinge of melancholia on your birthday too. The remedy for this is:
1) Remind yourself that you can die anytime, anywhere, for any reason and that if you've reached another birth anniversary you are actually lucky. Think of someone you know who is dead. There, now don't you feel lucky?
2) Thank your lucky stars you're not a teenager anymore. Remember how sucky it was to be 15. Tell yourself whatever age you are, this is the best age to be. Believe it.
3) Take the day off of work and do whatever you feel like doing - even if it's blogging in bed like me right now.
4) Eat cake. No one expects a 35 + year old to wear a belly shirt (thank god)
I have to admit, I find birthdays to be just a hair traumatic. When I was a kid I don't think I ever felt that way, nor did I ever have a traumatic birthday that I can recall. Okay, that's a lie. 15, 16, 21, 25 and 30 all come to mind. Aside from those, however, I have had plenty of happy birthdays and the memories to go with.
I suppose if you conisder the phenomenon of anniversary reactions related to traumatic experiences, and that birth itself is traumatic, it all makes sense.
Imagine the impression that vaginal birth leaves on a newborn's psyche. We go from floating weightless in a place that is safe, completely contained, dark, quiet and where all our needs are met effortlessly to violently thrust into a cold, sterile, bright and noisy room where someone (our mother, presumably) is screaming in agony, our ears yanked by a pair of strange hands prying us free of our happy place. It sounds awful - it must have been awful but none of us remember.
I'm sure the psyche does.
If you're like me, where even seemingly small and/or positive life events require acknowledgement of the loss of what was and a minor grieving process, then you probably get a tinge of melancholia on your birthday too. The remedy for this is:
1) Remind yourself that you can die anytime, anywhere, for any reason and that if you've reached another birth anniversary you are actually lucky. Think of someone you know who is dead. There, now don't you feel lucky?
2) Thank your lucky stars you're not a teenager anymore. Remember how sucky it was to be 15. Tell yourself whatever age you are, this is the best age to be. Believe it.
3) Take the day off of work and do whatever you feel like doing - even if it's blogging in bed like me right now.
4) Eat cake. No one expects a 35 + year old to wear a belly shirt (thank god)
