I hate my birthday.
It’s not the Over The Hill jokes, that weird “ma’am” I get at high school basketball games, or even the fact that it’s increasingly likely I’ll wake up sore from sleeping weird. That’s right, I injure myself sleeping now, but even that’s not enough to make me hate my birthday.
These days my birthday reminds me of celebrating it in hospice two days before my mom died. Whoa, Laura, way to bring down a room.
It’s not like I was a rah rah birthday person before. Sure, as a girl I was all about celebrating because hello! Friends and presents and cake and ice cream? What’s not to love? My favorite birthday was either the year a dozen friends piled into our family room for a sleepover or the time we took a group to Farrell’s Ice Cream Parlour and gorged ourselves on some crazy sweet concoction like this one. Mmm.
But as a grownup I kind of chilled out about the whole thing. Basically I wanted a card – I have an absurd love of inappropriate birthday satire – and dinner out because cooking yourself dinner on your birthday should be a fineable offense. BrightSide was even more low maintenance than I was. Unless we had a family gathering that demanded jocularity we were perfectly happy to cheer on the finish of another year in our own way.
Then in 2016 my mom was admitted to hospice at the beginning of my birthday week. By that time she’d already spent at least a week in the hospital and I was running on fumes. It was a terrible time, one where I constantly felt like I needed to be where I wasn’t, and I’d realized I was entirely unprepared to lose a parent. Putting one foot in front of the other became a valid coping strategy.
Then the day before my birthday arrived and to my utter shock I learned we’d be having a party – pizza, cake, the whole shebang. There’s no way to overstate how much I did not want to celebrate my birthday in any way whatsoever. I mean, if I could have conjured up a time warp to hop us from the 20th to the 22nd I would have. Shoot, I would have traded aging five years to skip having to smile my way through that damn Happy Birthday song. There just wasn’t any reserve left in my energy bank.
I’d like to say I knew my birthday was going to be ruined either way and this was important to my dad so that’s why I did it. That I agreed maintaining a sense of normalcy was important for the kids or the family or whatever. But the truth is it’s far more likely I was shellshocked, and since I have a history of not prioritizing my needs I just went along to get along. Do I regret it? Who knows. It is what it is. But that last birthday with mom is haunting and I just can’t seem to shake it.
Intellectually, we know our parent’s will probably die before us. Emotionally, I don’t think we are ever ready. Ways to celebrate a birthday, or any occasion, have changed a lot for me over the years. I’m no longer interested in a party, though dark chocolate cheese cake works well. I much prefer to “celebrate” by getting a massage, going for a hike, and/or watching my favorite movies. Time to take care of you.
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That dark chocolate cheesecake sounds pretty darn good; the massage would make it a near perfect celebration.
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Tainted. I hate it when that happens. There’s no more I can say than I’m sorry.
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Tainted is a perfect description. 💛
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I’m sorry that there is sadness around what should be a happy day. Memories have a way of getting intertwined.
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Our minds do make those connections, don’t they.
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😀 Hehehe, you really made me laugh! 😀
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I’m so sorry, Laura. My best friend was diagnosed with terminal cancer a few days before my birthday and died two weeks later. So, yeah, those memories and feelings taint the celebration. HUGS! I hope you’ll be able to process that damage and be able to celebrate your mom bringing you into the world. MORE HUGS!
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💛 (And sending those hugs right back at you.)
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Sorry to hear your birthday triggers sad memories. Losing a parent is a terrible heartache.
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💛 It is.
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Birthdays should be for joy not a reminder of such pain. You have every right to be haunted by the last birthday with your mom. It is a sad memory. Thanks for sharing.
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This means a lot, John. A couple of people said things this month that rubbed me wrong — guess I just needed to write it out. 💛
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It does help for sure. 💛
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I understand your pain.
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💛
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Sending you hugs. You tell yourself it’s only another day but these cold realities change everything. My mum went into hospital on my brothers birthday and she died a few weeks later in hospital on my birthday. Must admit my birthdays changed forever in 2016 as well. xx
It’s not fun injuring yourself in bed is it. Must be some dreams we are having.
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I’m sorry, that’s so hard that both of you were affected like that. I understand *logically* that it would have hurt no matter when I lost mom. I just can’t seem to convince my heart.
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The heart is the last to listen. Let’s see what time does.
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happy peaceful birthday, Laura – that must have been so hard
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It was, Beth. 💛
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Awww Laura, that’s really sad for you… big hugs ❤
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Thank you 💛
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These memories are really haunting and heartbreaking.
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💛
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🙏
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