Birthday Blues?

Before I start, no, it is not my birthday.  A friend of mine was suffering from some post birthday blues this morning and it got me thinking.  Thinking about why birthdays hurt so much for so many of us.

I don’t think I’ve ever really been fazed by a birthday.  They aren’t spectacular.  They aren’t devastating.  It’s just a day to me, a day that usually comes with some perks, like cake!  Since I’ve never had a birthday melt down, I have to ask, what’s the big deal??

From some people I get the sense that it is mealy a lust for youth.  People miss the physical attributes of youth, the smooth skin, the full head of hair with no gray strands, the energy and flexibility.  For others still, it seems that they miss the activities of youth and the lack of responsibility;  Bike riding from sun up to sun down with nary a worry in the world.

For others, I think it boils down to remorse, regret at opportunities missed.  Anything from not nailing down ‘the one that got away’ to picking the wrong major in college to never learning to speak French, conjures up feelings of anxiety and panic.  Feelings that we don’t assess until the annual ‘year in review’ that has become the birthday ritual.

I understand, looking in the mirror and seeing skin drooping further and further south and hair not looking as smooth, shiny, and illustrious as it once did.  I did however, have a hard time wrapping my mind around the missed opportunities remorse.  I mean, if there is something out there that you wanted to do, why didn’t you DO it?  Why don’t you DO it now?  You are never too old to learn to play the flute or speak another language. 

My grandmother, for example, just graduated from college!  Sure, life ‘got away’ from her when she was younger, but she didn’t let it keep sliding, she ceased HER day.  She didn’t do the college thing when she was in her twenties, life happened, but she still wanted to do it; so, she did.

I, myself, have started to read. No, not learning to read for the first time, but reading for the first time for pleasure.  I HATED reading, as a child, teen and even in my twenties.  It was an elementary function that served the purpose of getting by in life.  I read very few books that I understood as a child and fewer still that I enjoyed.  In high school literature, I had to read the Odyssey.  It may as well have been written in a foreign language.

It wasn’t until I was nursing my infant son that really began to read, and found that I kind of liked it.  My son didn’t nurse well with the distractions of TV, the chaos of the family in the living room or the cover of a blanket, so I was spending a lot of time alone in the bedroom.  I figured I could read a book, any book I wanted, so I did, and *shhhhhhh* I LOVED it!  I have since continued this practice.  I can now say that I am a reader and I now completely understand the fascination of a book club.

I look back at my life and the only things that I regret are not trying or doing things sooner, but the things that I have taken up later in life, has given me the opportunity to savor the activity. 

I’m a birthday lover, I always will be.  Getting older has perks, like less pimples and grandchildren.  There are so many things still left to explore and conquer and while my body may not look the same, I’m going to savor the simple pleasures in life and cease the day! Carpe Diem!!