Other than a few oddball years I haven’t been much into my birthday since somewhere in my teens. Rarely is this understood by others. It’s my way of celebrating. This, apparently, is not acceptable. It’s inconsiderate. It’s being sad even when you’re not.
Even though I knew months in advance this would be one of the quiet years it still meant lots of assurances and many concerned looks. Stubbornly I stuck to my wish.
This year my birthday happened along at a really bad time. Celebrating turning another day older became one more thing that had to get scheduled, planned for, added to the calendar, and everything else completed around it when all I really wanted to do was absolutely nothing. I wanted to sit on my couch and do nothing. Nothing.
And then breathe.
And then nothing.
Except this year my birthday happened along at a really bad time. Doing nothing was never going to be possible. Which I suppose did make me sad before the stress hit. The most I could do is neglect school projects and this blog for a day which turned into a week while I attempted to regain my calm.
Instead, this year I set out to ignore the day and eat cake. I do really like cake. On any day really. Pictured is the Champagne Cake (with sprinkles, of course) found in Vintage Cakes by Julie Richardson. The best part of ignoring my actual birthday this year was that when the cake was ready a day early, I got to eat a slice a day early. It felt rather wonderful.
In this way the day was good. I’d rather celebrate me on all the other days. On any day. On the days when the day feels like it should be celebrated rather than on the day you’re supposed to.