Statistically, fall birthdays are the most common across the world. Maybe that’s why our calendars are constantly buzzing: someone’s birthday today, another tomorrow, and even your own. With birthdays comes a flurry of celebration: ribbons, gifts and smiling faces, anticipating your reciprocation. Isn’t that too much to ask, when sometimes it feels difficult to respond to the joy, the enthusiasm, in moments when we aren’t feeling it. Often, these birthday blues arise from various worries. Our thoughts wander, wondering, “Will my friends show up?” or “Am I really getting older?” even though nothing has been accomplished. On my own autumnal birthday, I found myself looking down at the sidewalk and pondering, “How do I make this moment special?” I assumed I failed, because it felt like any other day. Though my whole family incessantly called, harping on the novelty of being sixteen, my mood was irritable. My fellow September-born friends were having dinners and taking nice photos, but that wasn’t necessarily something I wanted to do. Certainly, I thought myself to be entitled; making a fuss on a day where people bought me gifts and sent me nice messages. They were doing all the textbook activities for festivity. Still, I hated my birthday, and sighed as it ended.
In American elementary schools, it’s commonplace to invite friends over for a birthday. The special day involves springing colorful decorations up around your house, eating cake, and playing tag, among other joyous activities. I remember doing those things just the same, and loving it too for a while. But after the first twenty minutes or so I would find myself feeling out of place, suddenly waiting for it all to end, so the people could leave me alone.
In high school, we’re overexposed to everyone. Birthday parties turn into a demonstration of how much people love us and are willing to show up for us. We are in a conflict between wanting to participate in that culture and considering our enjoyment. It’s not a lonely phenomenon: the birthday blues are well-known. These blues remind us of what has passed, who’s still here, and who’s not. But, by convention, we are required to wear happiness so others can see us and smile, too. This convention can extend beyond peers and into familial dynamics as well: grandparents, who want to see you smile in new clothes; mom, who’s insistent you make extensive plans, among other family members. Having a loving family is a gift, so are we obligated to celebrate for them, too? The culmination of our parents’ hard work is our happiness, and our birthday is yet another example of what they’ve sacrificed for us.
Should we construct our joyous times in their image? Not necessarily. The ideal birthday is constructed by you, not them. You’d likely be upsetting people by doing something unconventional, but still, reclaim your day. For me, doing something in solitude serves as a celebration: getting a coffee or ice cream, enjoying nature, and writing about it. For others, maybe it is that extravagant celebration and show for friends and family. Regardless, it’s vital to think deeply about what type of day we truly want.
Surprisingly, I get joy from planning something special for a friend. Crafting the perfect birthday present or surprise makes me a little more joyful and appreciative of our friendship. For someone who thinks of solitude as special, this is a stark contrast. Similarly, I acknowledge I have friends who’d love to see me, sing happy birthday, and give me gifts as a reminder of our friendship, even if I don’t enjoy that. Is it possible to be there for friends even when you’d rather not be? There exists a balance between two sides. Before my birthday, my mom would call multiple times, wondering if there was something special she could do for me from afar. When I claimed I had no plans or wishes, we both certainly got frustrated. True to my word, I spent the morning and afternoon of the day holding no conversations, simply enjoying my silence. Then, I came out of that bubble and accepted what friends had given me with understanding, not annoyance. It needn’t be maximalist, but despite being reclusive types, we must allow our family and friends to show that they care.
Flashing lights, colorful banners, a three tiered-cake. For many, that is what their ideal birthday looks like. Yet, before you commit to your plans, pause and analyze: is that a celebration you want? That could very well be the cause of your birthday blues. The day can still be special, even if it’s just a sunrise walk, trying a new pastry, or having a conversation with long-time friends. Your birthday isn’t to be lived by someone else’s rules, only your own. Knowing this, still allow your loved ones to do things for you. They have joy to experience in celebrating, and even if in a small way, let them know their presence is valued. So, why must we still have the birthday blues? It’s not your birthday, but what you’re (not) doing for you.
