My Birthday as a Sacred Practice

Last week I secretly turned 23 and it was pretty great. I changed the privacy settings on my Facebook so that my birthday isn’t visible, I didn’t post anything on my other social medias, and I didn’t tell any of my coworkers (well, I tried not to. A few of them found out). For those who did end up finding out though, the question became, why don’t I want to celebrate my birthday? Here are my reasons.

1. Holidays are annoying

I am not a holiday person. I hate holidays, I dislike festivities, I find traditions odd and annoying. There’s just something about large groups of people all doing the exact same thing that I find...unsettling. One of my specific grievances about holidays is the assail of being wished a happy one. Now I was raised right, so of course I always say thank you when wished a happy holiday, but each time this little fury burns inside of me for being obligated to express gratitude for being told to enjoy a holiday I’m pretty much being forced to participate in against my will. I know how nuts that might sound, but that’s how I feel and my feelings are valid. This is even worse when it’s your birthday because now, more people are in on the attack and no one else is experiencing it except you.

2. I don't like being celebrated

I hate being the center of attention, call it middle child syndrome. I grew up being overlooked, got comfortable in it, built a home there, and now it’s my preferred treatment. For the past few years though, I’ve been doing a lot of dope things (publishing a book, graduating college, winning awards, etc.) that are worthy of celebration and I think the concentrated amount of attention I’ve been receiving has made me more and more sensitive and reluctant to receive praise. So having a bunch of people coming up to me on my birthday, giving me special attention and gifts and singing to me is so far left of anything I would ever want. One of my coworkers who found out it was my birthday had a classroom full of children sing to me and it was a mortifying experience.

3. It shows who truly remembers

One unexpected treat during my secret birthday was seeing how many people actually remembered my birthday without a Facebook notification or any reminder from me. The first person to text me happy birthday, even before my mom and siblings, was my ex-boyfriend. Like my high school ex-boyfriend. The fact that he remembered my birthday, truly remembered it with his actual brain, after all these years and after how far apart we’ve grown made me feel really warm and fuzzy inside. Like my birthday will probably always be a part of him since we spent so many of them together (and equally his birthday will always be a part of me).The other person, even more spectacularly, was my best friend from middle school. MIDDLE SCHOOL. Bruh... Do you know how long ago middle school was? I haven’t seen shawty since the 8th grade and 9 years later she’s writing “didn’t your birthday just pass?” on my Facebook wall. I think the fact that I kept my birthday a secret made these unprompted acknowledgements even more sincere and genuine, and I appreciate those more because of it.   

​4. Some things are sacred

There’s some kind of quote about a best friend being the person you can share all your secrets with. That’s what makes friendships like that so sacred, saving pieces of yourself just for eachother. But, what about the secrets you only tell to yourself? What kind of love is that, to save pieces of yourself just for you? As I’ve actively been pushing myself away from other people, I’ve found myself being more and more stingy with the information about myself that I share with others. I have a lot of secrets now and each one of them is like a little treasure I protect. Some are big and important, but a lot of them are just silly (like what day I was born). So it’s not that I don’t want to celebrate my birthday, it’s moreso that I want to celebrate it only with myself. For my 23rd birthday all I wanted to do was buy myself my first pair of Jordans and make an instagram post wearing them with the caption “Jordan Year.” That’s it. That’s how I wanted to celebrate my day and that’s all that should matter. 

I know that a lot of my thoughts and feelings and opinions are weird and don’t make any sense to some people, but why do they have to? Why does the fact that I do things a little differently have to warrant an explanation? As my friend Anthony would say, I “always have to be different and difficult,” and I’m totally okay with that. If being different and difficult means that I’m being my authentic self, then what a compliment that is. I just hope that as I grow, the people I allow into my life will love me enough to simply respect my “different and difficult” ways.