When I was younger, I had a number of fantasies regarding the celebration of my birth. Due to too many soap operas, movies, television shows, and the influence of my peers, I had high hopes of what others would do FOR me on my birthday. Breakfast in bed, time at a spa, numerous bouquets of flowers, fabulous presents, and all attention devoted TO ME on MY SPECIAL DAY! Or so I thought.
Sadly, year after year, I was soundly disappointed in my birthday. It seemed like the only person my birthday mattered to was me. Yes, I'd have the requisite dinner out with my parents, and maybe some cake. There would be some cards, mostly funny, and a few gifts, which grew fewer and fewer as the years passed. By the end of the day, I would go to bed disheartened and unhappy.
A few years ago, I realized that my birthday was important...to me. Each birthday provides me an opportunity to recall my previous year, to celebrate the coming year, and to be grateful that I am healthy and alive. Because of the importance of my birthday, and the fact that I love the idea that each person has one special day, I decided to make a change in my thinking. Rather than rely on others to celebrate me, I decided to make my birthday special instead.
My husband plans my birthday dinner and knows how much I love ice cream cake, so he takes care of that aspect of my birthday. And naturally, he either makes me a wonderful gift or buys me a wonderful gift, which is always a lovely surprise. He also knows how much I love cards, so there's always a funny or a serious card; some years there is one of each. But the day is mine, and I want to celebrate it my way.
Several years ago, I decided that I wanted to spend the day at the art museum and have lunch downtown. Last year, I had my hair done and a massage. This year, I went hiking on one of my favorite trails. Each year, different people celebrate with me. Each year, I have a wonderful birthday because I've taken control of the day rather than depend on others to do it for me.
A friend complained to me, not long ago, that her husband never seems to get her birthday right, and I mentioned my way of thinking. I no longer understand why we must put so much pressure on our loved ones to 'get' our birthdays 'right.' My husband takes no offense to my belief in celebrating my birthday my way, and if he can come with me, he does.
I now look forward to my birthdays and delight in planning my day. The pressure is off my husband to plan a 'right' birthday for me. And in the end, I revel in the fact that I am another year older, hopefully wiser, and--with any luck--happier.
