My Birthday Vow

Today is my birthday. Today I turn 25. Today is the first time I will be celebrating with someone I care about in years.

Q: Curly, why is your birthday so hard for you?

A: Because, dear friend, I was raised not to value myself. Why would I be am worth celebrating?

I had some fun parties planned for me as a kid. My first priority was always to ensure everyone ELSE was having a good time. My mother expected good manners and smiles, especially toward the pretty daughters of the families she wanted me to associate with.

I became a very gracious host.

When I got older and was in charge of my own guest list, I invited only my fellow outcasts: theater nerds, closeted queers. The bullied. Everyone arrived with strict instructions not to bring any gifts.

Receiving anything positive just for being me was intensely uncomfortable. I hadn’t done anything to deserve others’ time and attention. I made up for this obvious oversight by always paying for everyone’s dinner. At least then they were compensated for the hour or so they had to focus on me.

After graduating college and escaping the few friends I had, it was easier to just stop observing this most personal holiday.

I spent my 22nd birthday in-patient at an eating disorder treatment facility in the middle of the Arizona desert (not exactly party vibes). I spent my 23rd alone and homeless in a van on Maui. My 24th passed quietly amongst brand new coworkers.

So many days in the last year have been so full of joy that I’d almost forgotten how hard it still is to have that joy directed at ME.

I’m fighting hard against it, but I’m still trapped in scarcity mindset around the wonderful new connections I’ve made since changing my life so dramatically at the turn of the New Year. I’m afraid, deathly afraid, that my friends and partners will discover that I’m not worth it after all, and all of this will go away.

Feeling safe is terrifying. It means something bad is about to happen.

In the past I’ve numbed this fear by not allowing myself to get over involved with anyone. If you don’t show your emotions, you can’t hurt other people! You get to hurt yourself, and you like it. And you deserve it. Pain, in fact, is the only thing you really deserve.

But I’m done with numb.

This year I am celebrating myself. This year I am 25, and I am feeling the fear of falling, over and over again.

This Year I WILL Love Myself Like My Life Depends On It.