I always get kind of bluesy around my birthday. It’s like in one hand, I don’t make a big deal about advertising it, but at the same time, I want others to know about it and maybe be nice to me for a day, but then again I almost feel more comfortable if people didn’t know and didn’t treat me any differently. Like nobody at work knows it’s my birthday (at least I think) and I just want to go through my normal day without drawing any attention.
I think what it really comes down to is the fact that I’m not really comfortable being a center of attention, and that’s typically what happens for a lot of people on their birthdays. It just makes me feel kind of cringey and awkward, and wondering who is coming out of the woodwork on social media to wish my a happy birthday because they mean it, or they feel obligated to do it because, and just how genuine it is.
Growing up, birthdays never really meant much to my family beyond a certain age, and it’s evident that I’ve gotten my general ambivalence and weirdness about them from my parents, who never did anything for their respective birthdays during my upbringing, so it kind of stopped being a big deal to me around then, regardless of the fact that I’ve tried sporadically to breathe some life into my birthday throughout my adult years.
I’ve also met and have people in my life whom I share the birthday or are close to others, and it’s by no fault of anyone else, I just want to avoid the possibility of being envious of others and the things they do, by trying not to make a big deal of mine in the first place. It’s like I’m happier and more amenable to celebrate the birthdays of others than my own, regardless of the date or proximity to the date.
Maybe it’s the feeling of anticipation of a birthday, and the kind of melancholy disappointment of when it’s passed and in the rear view, and knowing that it’s going to be another year before we can hope for our specific day to come back, and hope that it’s also good.
Or maybe it’s the dreading of growing older, and now that I’m 41, I’m still sometimes wondering what I’m doing with my life, and wondering if what I’m doing is good, successful, and has a promising future ahead of it, or if I’ve put my life kind of on hold while I put all my importance on raising my children, because when it really comes down to it, they’re the most important things in my life, and raising them well still takes precedence over everything else.
Honestly, I don’t really know what the point of this post is, or if there’s even one at all. It’s my birthday, and I just felt like writing about it, even if it’s not particularly the most exciting, promising, or positive-feeling post I could possibly make.
There’s not much in the world that I have a want for, physically. Not even any more wrestling blets, because I pretty much have everything at this point. I guess I just want a general sense and feeling of comfort and happiness, and if I can just have a day where I can not get too stressed out, have a good workout, have some Willy’s, and spend some happy time with my kids and wife, then I don’t think I can really ask for much else.
So here’s 41 years old, hardly feels that much different than the last few years, but I suppose that’s what life is going to be like until I can look forward to a better retirement portfolio or registering for AARP.
