What a Birthday Is

Most people I know have very different ideas about birthdays than I do. Apparently, birthdays are occasions to be ignored, forgotten, unmentioned. You should hate your own birthday, refuse any question of celebrating it, and loath to accept any gifts. If someone insists on talking about it, offering you a gift, a card, or even a hug you may accept out of politeness but you must insist they shouldn’t have.

You must at the very least refrain from mentioning or otherwise informing or reminding anyone it is your birthday. You should not plan your own birthday celebration but wait for others to prove how much they care about you by making the plans for you. You should not buy yourself a gift. That only proves you are selfish, self-centered, and, obviously, friendless. Birthday celebration should not exceed one day and night of gift-giving and glee. Anything more than that is an annoyance and a burden.

Of course, I do not follow or agree with any of this. I verbally and quite publically count down to my birthday. I make tons of plans for dinners, outings, visits, and events. I buy myself things and whole-heartedly accept any gifts others are willing to offer.

I treat every birthday as a holiday because to me that is exactly what it is and I invite anyone who wishes to come along to celebrate with me. I ask for no gifts or cash contributions, I only ask that you witness my life. Witness my growth and passing. Witness me moving from one age to another. That, after all, is the greatest gift any of us can ask for.

I make a whole month out of this day and I make sure not just that I enjoy it but all those who supported me in my journey around the sun and through the year feel celebrated too. I make sure that they know that I know that without them I certainly wouldn’t be here.

Each one of us is given one day to call our own. One day when we can treat ourselves and a day when those who care about us are welcome to treat us too. The reasons aren’t all to do with materialism or unbridled desire to be adored and adorned. It’s simply a chance to feel good about being alive for a change.

How many of you never wonder at the immense odds against you not just to have been born at all but to have lived through every year, every day up to now? Can you guess how many people weren’t and didn’t? Do you know not only the luck but the strength it takes to live and keep on living?

If you had not been conceived when you were and subsequently born on the very day down to the second that you were, this life you have might be different or might not be at all. This world, for you, might not exist and no matter how bad things get I have to believe that any life is better than no life. I have to believe each of us would really truly rather be here than not, would rather see another birthday than not. I believe it because I can see it.

I can see that though we may whine and moan and insist to the contrary that everything we do from the moment we wake up in the morning until we lay down to sleep, every breath, every lie told and love spoken, everything action and interest we take, everything we care about, dream about, own, give away, steal, everything we hate and everything we hope for, it is all nothing but proof that we are fighting to live.

And this is what I celebrate, and this is what I believe we all should celebrate, that fight. Every birthday is a win and every year we are given just one day not to fight but instead to congratulate ourselves, to take stock of the spoils, and to ready ourselves to fight once again. It’s a wondrous gift, this life, one denied to many others, and though it may not feel like it, we are wondrous creatures who do the work of living it. We deserve this day. We deserve this celebration and respite.

I’ve done my best to convince nearly everyone I know how much of a waste an unmarked birthday is. The experiences and the presents aside, the chance to face not only the void we were born out of and the void we are fated to disappear back into but this beautiful, bright, terrible, and mysterious blink of time in between. You are here, now, and only for once. You must mark it!

Yes, birthdays are a yearly reminder that time is marching on and we are marching along with it straight to our deaths. Yes, birthdays are a reminder that we are aging, that we will never be as strong, agile, or attractive as we once were. Birthdays remind us that we are growing obsolete and invisible, and that one day we won’t even exist at all.

Birthdays can be a reminder of painful pasts too, I know. They can bring back memories of loneliness and feelings of insignificance. They can bring back regret, anger, and pain, I know, but, in some ways, birthdays are a celebration of that too. After all, suffering is as much a part of this life as love and happiness are too.

A birthday is a much-needed reminder of all that we have been through and the chance, the maybe, the hope that we will get to experience more. It an acknowledgement of the awful truth, the threat, that we just as well might not. A bit of birthday cake, a couple of gifts to unwrap, and a few friends to laugh with over a few drinks make the truth go down a little easier, that’s all and if you don’t have those friends, those laughs, those gifts or drinks that’s okay too. None of that is the point.

All you really need for a real birthday celebration, the thing you should have no matter how surrounded by love you are or not, is love for yourself and the courage to face your life as it was, as it will be, and that it will no longer be one day. 

So, today, on my birthday, I wish you all a happy birthday too, whether it’s already passed or yet to come. I wish you a happy life, and all the happiness and success you can find in your fight for all that is good and, inevitably, a little of what is bad in this beautiful, bright, terrible, and mysterious thing we call life.

Photo by Adi Goldstein on Unsplash

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Today is the first day of the rest of my life. It’s been a long time since I’ve thought of that phase and this is the first time I’ve felt it ever seriously applied to me. 35 already feels different. For the first time I feel old. I know I’m not old but this is the first time I feel that I am not young and in my inexperience they seem the same.

This morning my wife made me a big breakfast, and afterward there were mimosas and gifts. She went all out this year. I got a cold-brew coffee maker, a Scrimshaw knife kit, a box of “Strike Your Fancy” matches, and a big, beautiful longboard! Apparently, there is still one more gift, but it hasn’t shipped yet and she won’t tell me what it is. I just have to wait until the world starts moving again to find out. FOr now I’m hanging out, watching my favorite shows and waiting until it’s time to roast the artichokes, steam the cran legs, and open the wine. It’s a good day despite everything that’s going on around us.

I got an email from Coursera about some courses I might be interested in. One is Memoir and Personal Essay: Managing Your Relationship with the Reader and I’m really thinking about doing it. I need a long term learning goal I can work toward during these next three or four months away from work. There were courses I’ve been enrolled in and have been struggling to finish for nearly a year or more, but rather than wasting time avoiding or forcing myself to do the work, I have decided to embrace quitting. I’m quitting them (for now at least) and moving on to things I feel excited and passionate about.

There’s another one I heard about during a Sam Harris interview with Laurie Santos, “an Associate Professor in the Department of Psychology at Yale University”. Her course, The Science of Well-Being is not only the most popular course at Yale but also on all of Coursera. I think I’ll give it a go too.

So, I have new things and new goals. I have renewed resolve and a new direction. I’ve taken a tiny step and it feel good. It feels right.

Goals // Week 16: Another One Around the Sun

This week is a new beginning of sorts, one of many that come every year. It feels right that my 35th year of life should begin on a Monday, though for the last month Mondays have meant very little. Still, Mondays are our chances to start again every week and this Monday I get to start the first week of a new trip around the sun. I’m excited, but it’s a somber and focused kind of excitement. I’m starting a new chapter but I’d like to write a little more of this one myself rather than simply reading along waiting for the plot to unravel and the twists to surprise me.

So, this week, the first week, I will:

Write one blog post every day. I’d like for them to coincide with the WordPress Discover Prompts but I’m utterly incapable of writing anything short and that means some pieces can’t be wrapped up before the sun goes down. So, if I can’t finish a post before the day is up, I give myself permission to save it as a draft and pick it up again later. I am committed to sharing something for each day of April, even if it must come late. The point is to make a real effort, to get up and try. That’s all.

Read a little every day. With so much writing in the schedule now there will be less time for reading but I have finished the longest book of my entire reading career and can confidently move on to regular sized novels and my Penguin Little Black Classics set of which each book hardly exceeds 50 pages. Bonus: Finish this list of Feminist Writing.

Get back to regularly updating my to-do list, logbook, and schedule. Time seems to be compressing in on each side of the present and the days are harder to remember and to plan. I need a schedule to orient myself, to get a hold of time, to get things done, to remember how I want to live, and in order to do that I have to take the time to sit down and map out not just what is to come but what has passed too. To give my mind proof that though time is always slip, slip, slipping away I can make use of it as it passes.

 Enjoy my birthday. Being stuck inside during a global pandemic and a snowstorm is not the ideal way to spend a birthday but it is what it is and there is still so much to be grateful for and to celebrate. My wife, my best friend, my partner, is right here with me and there has never been an end to the joy we’ve been able to find in one another. It’ll be a good day if I decide that it is and what I have is not only good enough but a great blessing.

Work out. My body has been falling apart for years now, but the inherent inactivity that comes with social isolation is resulting in further joint stiffness and increased pain. The only remedy is to move through the hurt and eventually the body will adjust, become more pliable and less resistant. I have everything I need for a good home workout the only thing missing is my willpower. There are no more excuses to make. Bonus: Go one day this week without a sugary snack. It’s a start.

Practice more self-care. It’s becoming harder to remember to do the basics when you have nowhere to go and no one to impress, but the purpose of self-care is not to impress others but to provide a sense of calm, comfort, and care for yourself. Self-care can help you self-sooth. Self-care can distract the mind. Self-care can help you begin the day with focus or end it with peace. Self-care lifts the spirits and energizes the body, and in these times it’s more important than ever.

This week I will not give in to the draw of inactivity. So much of what our bodies crave is not only bad for us but counter to what it is we really need. My anxiety and the creeping depression and loneliness are making it hard to stay motivated and focused. All I want to do is binge eat and binge watch. All I want to do is nothing but I know that isn’t really what I want and it’s far from what will make me feel better. This week I will not let time slip away. I will not reach for what is mindless or numbing. I will not let the walls close in.

Photo by thomas van der vennet on Unsplash

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Today is a better day. It’s my birthday eve and I feel both very excited and very nervous. I’m excited for my own perfect day, or as perfect as my wife and I could make it. I’m excited to receive some gifts and to eat some delicious food but I’m nervous to start a new year of my life and I’m also a little sad to end this one.

It’s a day full of anticipation. I’m living entirely for tomorrow right now, but I’m doing my best to come back and to make this day its own. I made a little time to write and mustered the motivation too. I didn’t finish anything of significance, but I did work on a few pieces sitting in my drafts. I had hoped to post so much more than I have, but I am not counting this as a failure but as a reminder.

I have never been very good at blogging challenges and I don’t particularly like them much either. They are a wonderful motivator though and even if I don’t post anything else more than my little journal entries for the rest of the month, I will feel like I have won. I’ve already written more in these 11 days than I have in over a year.

I will still keep at it, for the rest of the month at least, but I’m not sure daily blogging will every be something I am capable of. Maybe if I change the things I am posting. I’m considering ending my Weekend Coffee Shares. I write these little updates every day and I really would like to spend my weekends writing other things instead.

If We Were Having Coffee // A Greater and Greater Toll

Hello, happy Sunday, and thank you for stopping by for a bit of caffeine and catching up.

This morning is a big change from the summer-like sunshine and warmth we’ve been enjoying. By the time I woke up, the flakes were already falling and the air frigid. Being stuck inside is hard enough, but not even being able to open the windows or walk past the driveway makes it all the more miserable. Still, the day is off to a good start. I’m up on time (though I had hoped for early), my phone is in another room, the T.V. is off, and I am at my desk rather than on the couch. If I can keep this up through lunch, it will be a good day.

Here, please, pull up a chair, though not too close, and fill up a cup. I’d hoped to be switching over to cold-brewed coffee by now but the mornings are still too cold and clearly, winter has not been sent firmly enough on her way so we’ll have the usual instead: a bright blonde roast steeped in the French press with lightly frothed sweet vanilla oat milk (which is becoming increasing, and surprisingly, hard to find in stores lately) to pour over top. Let’s talk about last week.

“oh god it’s wonderful
to get out of bed
and drink too much coffee
and smoke too many cigarettes
and love you so much”

― Frank O’Hara

If we were having coffee, I would tell you that time is a concept I am slowly losing my grasp on. The week flew by faster than any work week I’ve ever been through. Each morning I wake up and I have to spend an unsettling amount of time working out what day of the week it is and then attempt to orient the not only within the month and year but from the beginning of this isolation and to the estimated end, though that goalpost is fuzzy and constantly shifting.

Every week it seems my time away from work is extended farther and farther. This week I heard from the district’s administration that the transportation department personnel will not return to work until July, for our annual one-day mandatory meeting, and then not again until mid-August to start the new school year. In all, I will have nearly five months away from work. It’s more time than I know what to do with and already I feel like I am monumentally wasting it.

I’m trying to remember that no one is asking anything from me and it’s only my own expectations of myself that I am falling short of. I’m trying to remember that it’s okay not to do anything, make anything, or accomplish anything right now. It’s okay just to focus on taking care of my mental and physical health and to be honest that is a monumental task in itself.

If we were having coffee, I would tell you that the social distancing order is starting to take a greater and greater toll on my emotional wellbeing and this past week was the hardest one yet.

Monday started off okay. I had a plan. I had a goal. I was excited and confident. The weather was warm, the house was clean, and I felt happy to have so much time and so much to do but slowly day after day, no matter how hard I tried to begin again and again the good feelings slowly slipped away. I felt less and less excited, less and less motivated, and less and less happy about all this time on my hands. I missed my family and friends more and more and my anxiety kept getting the better of me. I started having nightmares and, because my emotions manifest physically as symptoms of an autoimmune disorder, I started to feel really cruddy.

By Friday I was ready to explode in a rage or to sink fully into despair. The problem isn’t being confined to this space. It isn’t being cooped up. It’s the lack of people. It’s the lack of distraction from the self.

I’ve made so much progress toward loving myself more and enjoying solitude and time alone with myself and my thoughts, but this is pushing all that progress to the limit and threatening to undo it. It’s not that I don’t like myself, but like being around anyone else, myself and I, we need to take occasional breaks.

Without time away from myself or I get irritated and angry. I start noticing all my own flaws and nitpicking my little mistakes. I start to really dislike myself without the perspective offered by a little time apart and a few friends or coworkers to reinforce what I know, deep down, is good about myself.

If we were having coffee, I would tell you that this past week wasn’t as great of a writing week as the one before. I got a few pieces out but then the words were harder and harder to find and so was my energy and my focus. Still, it feels good to have written anything, and it feels good to know that every day I can try again if I fail.

I have worked out a kind of routine that helps get me started. I start by waking up before 7 and before my wife. I need time to wander around the house and do a little thinking by myself. I get dressed, wash my face, and brush my teeth. I drink a glass of cool water and take my meds and supplements. I check on all the plants and take care of the pets, clean a few dishes and make coffee.

(I do not check the news during this time. I’m learning that catching up on current events or checking social media gets me out of the introspective mindset I need to be in.)

I do all the little things I know I am going to want to do instead of writing first thing so I won’t have to feel guilty and so I won’t be tempted to procrastinate then I head to the “creativity room” and do my best to avoid distraction for as long as I can. Obviously not every day is a good writing day, not even most but I am writing more and writing better so I know I’m heading in the right direction.

If we were having coffee, I would tell you that tomorrow is my birthday!

Unfortunately, I won’t be marking it with my usual zeal. Most years I’d spend this time new tattoos, touring museums, exploring new restaurants, and seeing friends and family for celebrations all month long, but this year it’s just going to be my wife and I.

She did her best to make it special though. We have a few clusters of crab legs in the freezer and artichokes waiting to roast—two of my favorite foods! We have bottles of wine chilling and almond cake for dessert. I hear rumors of gifts hidden around the house and we have movies to watch and board games planned to play. I’m actually looking forward to this low-key observance.

So, today is my last day of being 34 and think I’m going to miss it. I’m not quite ready to move into the mid-30s and to be so close to 40 but time marches on and each age offers its own kind of wisdom and happiness in exchange for the one you are being asked to give up. I think 35 will be the first year I feel finally fully grown up. I have worked hard this last year not only to overcome so many of my little fears but move out of my comfort zone from what is easy to what could be better.

Yes, 34 was a good age to be and I will miss it but 34-year-old me set 35-year-old me up so well I know that only more good is on the way and I can begin another trip around the sun with confidence and peace.

If we were having coffee, I would tell you that the rumbling in my stomach let me know it’s lunchtime and the rising fear of rambling on more than is pleasant or welcome are clear signs it’s time for me to finish my cup and go. It’s time for lunch and, afterward, I’d like to create a sense of normalcy by going about a pared-down version of my usual Sunday preparations.

I hope you had a good week. I hope you have been able and willing to stay inside both to protect yourself and your loved ones and to keep others in your community safe as well. I hope you have what you need and that you have found ways to cope, to feel less alone, to feel less afraid. I’m here if you need me.

Until next time.

Written for the #WeekendCoffeeShare link-up hosted by Eclectic Alli.

Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash

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The weather is gorgeous again but the reports are foretelling high winds and a 30-degree drop in temperature between today and tomorrow and through Monday. I’m bummed about the return of winter but I’m trying not to be. It’s not like I had big plans for the weekend, anyway. There is nowhere to go even if I could.

It’s another blah kind of day but the want to do more is there even if the energy and willpower isn’t. It really is like fighting yourself. Part of you is saying no to everything and whining all kinds of reason why and another part of you is calling that part a big baby and screaming that she has to suck it up and get to work if she really wants to change anything about her current situation. And then there is a third “I” the one who watches and wishes she had a say. She wishes she had more control and more understanding of these other two. She wishes she had her own life and didn’t have to rely on the others to do or not do.

That’s how it feels, but that isn’t really how it is. There is just me, just one, and I am simply made up of all kinds of contradictions and obsticals to overcome. I am just a person that is harder to be than others. Or maybe that isn’t actually how it is either.

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Today started out so badly but has improved so much since that I feel as if I’ve lived through two entirely different days at once.

I had more nightmares last night but with the help of a good dose of melatonin I was able to stay asleep and so only had to suffer through just the one. I’ve been waking up early again, which I took as a good sign, but today I hardly recognized myself in the mirror when I woke. My whole face felt swollen and on top of that my joints from the hips down were stiff and painful.

Shortly after waking a big mistake committed (unknowingly and accidentally) by me was discovered this morning and though it’s far too upsetting a to describe here, I will tell you that I was very angry with myself and sorry to my wife for messing up so royally. Of course she forgave it all and then set out to make everything right again. She even managed to cheer me somewhat, but it still sucks to be only the second best wife in this marriage.

I didn’t feel much like writing or reading as a result. The last place I wanted to be was in my own head, so I spent most of the day listening to music and cleaning around the house instead. It felt good to unplug for a while, move my body, and get some things done. I showered too and did some important self-care things. I managed eventually to eat something and now I think a hard cider and an evening on the couch could push the last of my humiliation away.

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Venturing out of the house when the need arises is becoming more and more stressful as this pandemic wears on. We were running out of some basics and wanted to get provisions for my quarantine birthday celebration in a few days. It took two hours and trips to three different grocery stores, and we still didn’t get everything we were looking for. It’s pretty awful out there.

The good news is the shelves are looking more and more stocked and it’s getting easier and easier to find what we need. Today was only difficult because most of what we were looking for were items that are not basic or essential. I think much of the bulk and panic buying is subsiding, but there is still no toilet paper anywhere. Thank goodness we still have quite a few rolls left.

Wearing a mask is difficult for me. I feel like I can’t breathe in it and my glasses get fogged up. With all the people around, the inability to find anything, and the effort it takes to maintain a 6 foot distance between yourself and others makes for a high anxiety and an irritable mood and, if you can’t get out fast enough, an inevitable panic attack. Under the circumstances, my wife and I did well, I think, but it’s hard to tell whether it’s better for both of us to go or only one.

I’m back home now, but it is a bad writing day so I’m taking it easy instead. I’ve been fighting a headache since yesterday afternoon and I wasn’t able to get a good night’s sleep either. I kept having bad dreams. I would wake up drenched in sweat from one only to fall back asleep and have another. Each one was a different terror all its own. Each dream was so vivid, so real, that I woke up confused and relieved that what I had been fighting through was not in fact my real life.

I hope this is not a new trend. I have a feeling it’s connected to my increased anxiety, which is obviously connected to everything going on and all the growing fear and uncertainty around me. I’m considering seeking therapy but I keep coming back to the fact that I am one of the lucky ones and instead of feeling anxious or afraid I should be feeling grateful. I shouldn’t need therapy to get through this when so many more people are getting through it with fewer recourses and less support than I already have.

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A friend called me today, and it meant the world. The hardest part about being away from people is how hard it is to feel cared about, loved, or wanted, but she made the effort to call, not just text, but call. The conversation was short, but it cheered me up and I have a feeling the good it did will last a long while. I think I’ll try calling people this week too. It isn’t the conversation so much as the thought that counts and I would like to spread the joy.

It’s been a while since I’ve written any poetry but today the words were coming easier so I thought I would give it a try. I’m pretty proud of the outcome and encouraged by the enthusiasm I was able to muster. Some days are going to be easier than others it seems, and maybe that’s okay as long as I make sure it’s a bad writing day by actually trying first by actually trying and I still do something productive with the day like reading or working on an older piece.

I finished book 11 of my Penguin Little Black Classics, A Cup Of Sake Beneath The Cherry Trees by Yoshida Kenkō, and started book 12, How to Use Your Enemies by Baltasar Gracián, which, it turns out, is also a book about how to use your friends. The premise may be shrewd, but I’m finding a lot of insight about the human psyche in here and I’ve realized that the way things should be and the way things are each a kind of truth.