#7 Why Hating Your Birthday Might Be A Good Thing
Five years ago, in 2017, I wrote a blog post confessing how much I hated my birthday.
I used to believe my birthdays were cursed.
In that same blog post, I reflected on how I chose to approach my birthday that year with a completely different mindset and how doing so ended the streak of “cursed” birthdays. For the next four years after that, I developed what felt like a solid and healthy relationship around my birthday: Free of expectation, pressure, and stress.
This year, with my birthday nearing (Dec. 17), I started experiencing a lot of dread again.
In my blog post from 2017, I wrote: “Here I am now at 27, completely lost and anxious about which direction my life is going to move towards by the time I turn 28, yet I’m simultaneously happy about the fact that I didn’t end up where I thought I was supposed to be by 25.” I instantly smiled at the insightful words my younger self wrote; but the smile faded almost as quickly as it came. Because while I am glad that my life didn’t end up becoming what I thought it was supposed to look like at 25—married with kids, climbing some corporate ladder (yawn)—how is it that five years later, I am completely lost and anxious about which direction my life is going again?
Like I always always say—because I need to constantly remind myself and understand more than just the theory of it, or else I will absolutely obliterate myself and destroy any chance I have at a creative career that I actually love—our healing is not linear. As much work as we put into our growth and evolution, our shadow selves will still return to haunt us. And sometimes, like a bow and arrow, being pulled backwards is necessary in order to be propelled forward again.
As often as I forget to recognize it, I know I put in the good work these past five years around healing myself:
I repaired friendships that needed some serious mending.
I developed a consistent writing and meditation practice.
I discovered and purged demons that held me back for more than a decade.
I started a business that required putting myself out there in ways that were so cringe to me.
I experienced what it feels like to truly forgive.
I experienced what it feels like to love and be loved wholeheartedly.
I tackled my fear of needles by coming face to face with them on five different occasions.
I tackled my fear of death by going on a death day retreat and taking a program titled Resurrection, which encouraged me to think about death every week.
I developed a friendship with my parents, who I felt were like strangers to me almost my entire life.
An ex, who I formerly had a toxic relationship with, and who I resented for years, became my best friend.
If you read that list again, you’ll notice that everything I’ve listed as a testament to my growth is not related to accomplishing any sort of accolade or reaching any monetary value. My ambitions have been soulful. This sentence alone would make my 8 year old and 80 year old self proud.
So then…
How is it that five years later, I am completely lost and anxious about which direction my life is going again?
Answer: Because I am dissatisfied with where my life is. Again.
Five years ago, I made a choice to break the mentality that my birthdays were cursed because I was fed up with the way my life was going. My five years of healing was born because of a deep dissatisfaction of where I was at. And even with my track record of soulful accomplishments, there’s a fire in me that knows there is still so much more good work to be done. So many more mountains within me to climb. While the visions I’ve been able to meet are more than enough—I could strive for nothing else and still be worthy of my existence—there is nothing wrong with my desire to dream bigger.
Reading this article titled The Reason You Hate Your Birthday confirmed, on a deeper level, why I was feeling so much dread this year. It felt like a gut punch to read that birthdays might make you reflect on “difficult relationships in your life or make you feel sad about not feeling close to many people right now.”
I mentioned above how in the past five years I repaired friendships that needed mending, formed a friendship with both of my parents, and became best friends with an ex I formerly had a toxic relationship with. All of which I’m incredibly proud of. And dare I say, those old relationships (and even some new ones I’ve formed), during this time, have become stale and stagnant; I want more.
In the past few months, I have not felt close to many people because I’ve been afraid. Resistant. There’s a new threshold I feel called to cross and my birthday woes are revealing to me just how much more needs to be healed. Deep and intimate friendships are still so frightening to me. I have a history of spontaneously going all in with new bonds that feel natural and then retreating as soon as I experience the slightest bit of conflict or distance arising. Yes, I have trust issues.
A good measure of knowing whether or not something is healed is to notice how we react to the same situations that initially caused us to build the wall. This past year, one of my past traumas repeated itself: A friend who I developed what felt like a strong sisterhood with, and a friendship I naively assumed would last a lifetime, told me she needed space (it’s been six months since we’ve spoken). She had been dodging me for a month and because of this I sensed that something was off. It was only after I had finally asked that she confirmed what I was feeling. I used every tool I’ve learned on my healing journey to work with the pain I experienced from this situation, only to discover that the wound was too deep for me to heal within a few days, and at that point, I was exhausted from all the inner work I had already been doing.
Part of me wishes she could’ve handled it differently. Been more straightforward and honest, rather than just becoming avoidant. But shit, if she’s anything like me—a recovering people pleaser with high anxiety who is still sometimes resistant and fearful of telling people the truth—how could I not have compassion?
As much as I wanted to understand, as much as I did understand, I still felt betrayed. Abandoned. Enraged. Dumb. So my ego did what it does best to protect me: it buried those emotions. Now, a week before my birthday, those very emotions are asking to be seen again. I’ll begin with this excerpt from a poem by Rumi to explain in more detail:
Pay close attention to your mean thoughts.
That sourness may be a blessing,
an overcast day brings rain for the roses
and relief to dry soil.
Don’t look so sourly on your sourness!
It may be carrying what you most deeply need
and want. What seems to be keeping you from joy
may be what leads you to joy.
I’m beginning to see that my sheer dissatisfaction (my sourness, as Rumi states) of where I currently am, is a blessing. My sourness around not feeling close to many people around this time of the year is mirroring to me what I deeply want and need. I deeply want and need community. I deeply want and need friends who are willing to be intimate with me. I deeply want and need myself to be willing to be intimate with friends. And when I use the word intimate, I mean what Berlin-based oil painter, Atusa Jafari, describes in Friends of Friends: “Exposing what we see as the dark sides of our personality, the parts that we deny most of the time because they complicate the image we project of ourselves, that is intimacy.”
My vision for the upcoming years, maybe even as soon as this year, is to be someone who gets excited about celebrating my birthday. This phase in my healing journey, where I’ve chosen to extend my numbness to all the pain, has served me, up until now. I’m grateful for the way my dissatisfaction made its way to the surface.
The coming to terms of what we don’t want is the bridge to getting to what we do want. It takes courage to come face to face with that truth. To feel the pain of what sucks right now. To notice how much we’ve procrastinated on the inner work after being exhausted from losing ourselves in it. The most beautiful thing about pain is that while it hurts like hell to be exposed to the dark sides of our humanity, it also serves as a reminder of just how alive the Soul is.
To resist pain is to resist love. Feel everything. Reclaim the expansive, abundant, incredible life that you want and need. As Rumi states at the end of the same poem I shared above: “Reach for it. Hold your meanness to your chest as a healing root, and be through with the waiting.”
-Val
As promised from last week’s newsletter, the following is a compilation of some inspiring resources that have gotten me through some dark times during the year. I was initially only going to make it for paid subscribers, but I decided to make this a recurring section of this newsletter, and so I wanted everyone to get a little taste of what this will look like. In the following weeks, this part will only be accessible to paid subscribers.
7 Resources to Inspire You This Week
I know I’m late to discovering the legend who is Sheryl Lee Ralph, but I’m sure glad I did. Ever since I watched her jaw dropping speech for receiving her first ever Emmy, I went on a deep dive to learn all about her by watching countless interviews. This particular one almost moved me to tears when she spoke about how she was working with a 91 year old artist on a project. It really is never too late to follow your dreams.
The song by Dianne Reeves that Sheryl Lee Ralph sang a portion of in her speech.
Discovering Sheryl Lee Ralph (thanks Ceej!) is what led me to binge watching Abbot Elementary, written, produced and created by Quinta Brunson. In an interview, Brunson spoke about how she really wanted to create a network television show that every generation could watch so (like back in the day) they could come together as a family and bond through laughter. It’s such a wholesome show that will make you want to laugh and cry at the same time. It will remind you of how teachers have such an incredible impact on the world and how they truly do not get enough credit for what they do. You can watch it on HBO Max or Hulu.
This excellent article by Anne Friedman on ambition and how hustle culture is dead.
The book Rest is Resistance by Tricia Hersey that will make you angry at first, but inspired to Rest in a way you’ve probably never even thought to. It’s been helping with my insomnia.
This poem titled, A letter to my descendants, by Gabes Torres, a dear friend and teacher, hit me so deeply in the midst of my intergenerational healing journey. Here’s a snippet:
And yes I say, “enough is enough,”
yet Love bids for more.
Love is not only concerned about the things we could be free from,
but also what we could be free for.This essay inspired me to write this week’s newsletter and look forward to the things that could be, as long as I keep my heart open.