Why I Hate My Birthday

For as long as I can remember my birthday has always caused me a lot of stress and anguish. I can remember being a little boy and my birthday was the day after my grandmother's. We were very close and very much alike, very quiet, humble, and reserved. I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't like all the birthday attention either. I remember my family would throw these huge parties with a bunch of kids, some I barely knew, and I was the center of attention. It was alright being that I was a kid and enjoyed any time I got to play with other kids but deep down I didn't like everyone to be focused on me. The adults would make all the kids dance just for their own amusement and being the birthday boy I would have to dance even if I didn't want too. Sometimes they would have a Halloween theme for my birthday because the two days are so close and all the kids would wear costumes and I always felt like I had the worst one.

​I remember one year my mom planned a sleepover and I was Popeye the sailor man. I hated that costume but that's the one my mother chose and back in 1987 Popeye was not all that cool. I was 8 years old. I particularly remember that birthday because there were about 15 boys and we watched the all the movies I had no interest in and played all the games I didn't care for. As a child at that time I was probably dealing with a lot of anxiety.

I remember the next day the majority of the boys wanted to play tackle football and I didn't want too. Not that I didn't ever play football with my friends but we always played touch football and I was afraid I couldn't play as good as the rest of them or that I would get hurt. So myself and a couple of the other boys who were not really into sports decided to go on an adventure. I was the leader. There was a trail behind my moms house and we went through the woods to discover a lost mountain. They didn't believe that there was a mountain there but I was ready to prove it to them all. On the other side of the trail there was what might have been a landfill, I'm not sure, but it was a pile of something. A pile so big that it resembled a mountain. The kids were in awe when we came upon it and we had fun trekking through the woods on a real adventure. That all came to an end when the rest of the boys came looking for us to tell us that we were in trouble. My mom didn't know where we were and at that point it wasn't fun anymore. Back then I knew that in trouble meant getting spanked but to me it felt more like getting beat. And that's exactly what happened. My mom beat me with a belt in front of all my friends and family. She then proceeded to spank the other kids that were with me..not as hard as she did me...but the fact that she spanked my friends embarrassed me.

​The next few years I remember the same types of parties with family and friends followed by a party they would have for my grandmother. My grandmother's death, when I was 15, took a huge part of my happiness. It really became difficult to even think about my birthday. My teenage years were very depressing for me. I wasn't popular and didn't have many friends. I didn't go to parties. I was very self conscious and had low self esteem. So when my birthday would come I would dread the day. All the phone calls wishing me happy birthday when I wasn't happy. Everyone using my birthday as an excuse to party and couldn't understand that I would rather not be bothered. It continues to this day. I regret the day I joined facebook for this reason alone. I really don't mind all the well wishes and acknowledgments on my birthday but I could do without all the small talk and phony conversations with people who generally wouldn't pay me too much attention. Then someone would ask that awful question. What are you going to do for your birthday? Most of the time I just want to say nothing but I know that would make people think something is wrong with me. I think people expect that you should want to celebrate that day because most of them look forward to it themselves and plan months in advanced for their own birthdays. Most people can't fathom the idea of someone being depressed on their birthday.

I've come to realize that it's hard to celebrate a day that you've never appreciated. When you go through life wishing you were never born or wishing you were dead it's hard to celebrate life. Even when I'm at a point in life where I am becoming more positive in my thoughts it's still hard for me to value myself.

Being 33 years old now I'm trying to gain a new perspective. There are so many things I want to achieve by 40 and I am becoming more focused and determined about achieving things and being successful. With that in mind...I still have issues with self esteem. Hopefully at 40 years old I will feel like I have something to celebrate and would want others to share in that with with me. Right now, I'm still a work in progress and all the attention around my birthday is too much too soon. I really do appreciate people being thoughtful, I just know that it is going to take some time for me to open up in regards to appreciating myself. I don't like being forced to focus on myself year after year when all I can see is my flaws. Hopefully this idea I have about myself will change and with all the other things I've had to overcome I believe that someday in the future I will finally be able to welcome my birthday with open arms. But right now I just hate it...lol.


eyeconfess eyeconfess
31-35, M
Jan 17, 2013