This past month marks another year that the Earth has passed around the sun since I was born. It is a day that has had many meanings and reminds me that time is dynamic.
As a child, I longed for the days just before my birthday in which I would get increasingly excited for the actual day. I would dream about my special day where I felt it was all about me.
However, my expectations rarely matched my celebrated days. I was a lonely child that quickly learned not to say how I felt. I was abused physically and psychologically regularly and left to face that anxiety-driven reality daily.
This reality didn’t stop in my childhood. I grew more and more disillusioned and distant from a balanced emotional upbringing. My birthdays became a reminder of what wanted them to be versus what they were.
Many years went by and I either suppressed those feelings or I had better birthdays. To be honest I don’t recall. I just didn’t enjoy them. I focused on things that made me unhappy like thinking about the people that didn’t call or didn’t celebrate my day with me.
To this day, every time my birthday comes closer, and I am asked what I want to do, I don’t know what to say. The upside is I have 300 and some days where I just don’t think about it.
Writing about mental health issues is not always a positive story, sometimes one needs to put out what is going on inside. It is part of the journey. At least my journey.