How we feel about birthdays
We will absolutely cry if we want to.
Welcome to Solicited Advice, our weekly column that celebrates the helpfulness in health. Because in a world where strangers at the grocery store love to tell you that a specific brand of magnesium will indeed “cure” what ails you (it probably won’t, so sorry), we’re all about passing on our lived experience in a way that makes your life a little better. Are we experts? Nah, not really. But we’re great listeners who have perfected the art of pillow screaming. Let’s get into it!
My relationship with my birthday has changed a lot over time, and I’ve noticed my feelings around celebrating definitively correlates to how my chronic health conditions are affecting my day-to-day life. Do you all feel the same? How do you each approach your birthdays?
Ash: I used to love my birthday, but nowadays I seldom feel good around it. When I was growing up, my birthday was made into a big deal and people around me were enthusiastic to celebrate. And one year it all just seemed to… stop. I’ve written about how much loneliness affects me these days — where I feel like I’m lacking that close-knit bond with anyone who isn’t my partner — and because of it, nothing ever feels special about the day. This isn’t to discredit my partner’s role, as he always tries to make the day feel good, but it does highlight the stark difference of it being a day when those feelings of loneliness ring extra loud in my head. To be honest, I don’t know if I have any advice to share as I think I need it myself in order to work through those thoughts and feelings.
Jess: 🎶 “I'm so depressed, I act like it's my birthday every day.” 🎶 I don’t know what it is about birthdays exactly, but their gift is a shot of depresso. Usually at least once on my birthday, I end up crying big, heaving sobs. It’s not about getting older, it’s not about regrets, it’s not about what other people do or don’t say or do… it’s just… sadness. Emptiness.
I love my birthday month, in that it’s my favorite month of the year. And, I struggle sometimes with feeling overstimulated by too much attention, and so I’ve wondered if maybe that is part of it — if the attention and notifications are overstimulating me. Don’t get too jealous: At least two-thirds of the notifications are just different brands offering me coupon codes and trying to make a buck off me, and I often use those birthday notifications as an unsubscribe list.
For the most part, I try to treat it like a normal day with a few extras… like a bit of planned alone time or getting a little birthday treat from one of those emails. 😆
Kat: Did we save this topic for my birthday week? Why yes, yes we did. To start my answer off: I feel everything you said very deeply! I’ve never been a gigantic birthday fan, but I certainly used to love celebrating it more than I do now — especially when I was in college (turning 20 in Rome is hard to top!). But now, while I am of course grateful to have made it another year, it’s usually a deep, bittersweet heartache that blankets me most of all. What used to get me most was how my health kept me from celebrating the “traditional” way — with parties, a special vacation, or fancy meal. But now? Each birthday in recent memory always serves as a bold-faced reminder that another year passed me by in such a blur of debilitating symptoms and pain (and yes, often with a surgery thrown in there). I honestly think I shudder at the question of “What are you doing for your birthday?” just as much as “How are you?” these days.
So here’s what I do to dampen the blues: I try and have the most normal day possible. Weekday birthdays are especially great for this strategy. I still go to appointments (though I don’t schedule procedures or treatments), work, and maybe even throw in a load of laundry or two. I sneak in extra couch hang time with my partner and my pup, start a book I’ve been really looking forward to diving into, and engage with the people in my life who were kind enough to reach out and think of me. I do, however, try to take a day off from preparing food in most forms as a gift to myself. And that level of normality and low-key pressure tends to work wonders for me. It feels grounding with a little bit of sparkle sprinkled in.
But ultimately, I try to remember that my birthday is a reminder that I didn’t give up. I don’t know if you can relate to that perspective or not, but that’s really what birthdays are at their core. It’s a day that stamps when our story began, and each subsequent one is a little wave from the universe that says something along the lines of, “I saw your struggle over the past 12 months and I’m really freaking proud of you for surviving.” So I’m going to try and hold on to that this week. I survived, I made it, I did the damn thing — all in the face of a reality that would bring others to their knees. I hope you can remember that too, when you need it most.
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More Solicited Advice
To social media or not?
Social media is one of the most popular topics of conversation these days, and the discussions are often centered around how toxic the platforms are — and I don’t disagree from an ethical perspective. But as a disabled person, digital spaces are how I engage with the world. How do you all navigate this?
My birthday is in November, when my winter slump is in full swing. So my energy levels are low and my tolerance for social interactions is almost nil. So we keep it low key. The highlight last year was one of my besties dropping by unexpectedly with treats and a succulent.
Birthdays became a sore spot for me because social networking made them into nothing. When I grew up there was NO way to learn another person's birthday unless they *chose* to tell you. It was Personally Identifying Information (even though that term didn't yet exist). And unless you made a note or memorized it, you couldn't be one of the few people who knew next year. it was special; you could be an insider in their life that way, but it demanded a tiny bit of effort. Now it's zero effort, you can automatically get reminders on [almost] anyyone. It feels like being stalked. Sometimes it clearly IS.