Happy Birthday to Me

My birthday is now an event for me. I used to hate it, and I would shy away from the attention. I know a lot of people feel this way, but the reason I did was because I didn't think I deserved to have a nice birthday. I didn't think I deserved good things in life or to be treated well. It's maybe hard to understand because most people, I think, like to celebrate their birthdays, and if they don't, then their loved ones do it for them. Previously, I didn't want anyone to mention my birthday. I didn't want presents. I didn't want to organize anything and have people treat me nicely. I was on the opposite end of the spectrum where people get sad when their birthday isn't special enough. When I've gone clubbing over the past couple months, I would jump into random circles and wish someone happy birthday, and about two thirds of the time, someone would say "OH THANK YOU! HOW DID YOU KNOW?" It's the most bizarre thing, and you can use that as an icebreaker now, free of charge. In high school, I got a Winnie The Pooh card from my locker neighbour once, and it was very sweet.

Pooh always gave jars of honey as presents because he couldn't imagine getting anything nicer.

In the same way, I've been wishing everyone a happy birthday for some time now, which tells me that I've begun to value my own. Yes, I did have big parties the last two years running, but those were because I wanted to do something fun for my birthday. This year, it's different because I'm celebrating myself. I now think I'm worth it. Now, I think I deserve to be treated nice and to have people make sacrifices to see me and to make me feel special. The counselling is paying off.