Birthday blues are a fascinating phenomenon. The original idea is to celebrate your birth and the time that is given to you on this planet. Yet, it is ironic because people still choose the opposite. So why so glum, chum?
A History of Birthdays
The concept of celebrating birthdays comes from Mesopotamia and Egypt, the grandfathers of modern civilization, where keeping birthday records was important for casting horoscopes.
In Europe, it was feared that evil spirits were attracted to humans on their birthdays. To protect them, they would be visited by friends and family who would bring good thoughts and wishes. Christians up until the fourth century AD did not celebrate their birthdays because it was considered a pagan custom.
Nowadays, people celebrate by cooking lasagna or reserving a table for an all-night party. I’ve been to many birthdays. It’s not uncommon to see young kids dancing like wild chickens in celebration of life, or to end up in dramatic sobbing at 3 a.m. from too much alcohol.
A birthday means you’re a full year older. This realization causes a gradual process of freaking out, usually starting weeks before your special day. By the first week, you’re mulling over goals from five years ago that haven’t been fulfilled. By the last week, you’re tripping over regret for breaking up with a boyfriend from three years ago. If you’ve experienced something like this, no need to worry — it’s perfectly normal.
Smells Like Teen Hormones
When I was younger, I used to get a bad case of the birthday blues. It never failed to show up every year. It’s pretty much like that time of the month. Without logic, a rush of emo would come over me, and suddenly I’ll be pointlessly wondering about the meaning of life. Eventually, all my dramatic musings simply end up with me complaining about the lack of a love life.
I also never figured out the point of celebrating. You’re throwing a party, although you don’t know exactly why you are throwing one. You simply know that there should be a party. Is it to show prosperity? I wasn’t exactly a people person in my teens, so I never enjoyed being the host. For the young ’uns out there, it might just be a case of raging hormones.
I don’t get the blues anymore, but I used to get them in my teens up to my early 20s. Aside from hormones, I would like to think it has something to do with maturing. I used to think that celebrating your birthday was selfish, and I did not deserve it. Over time, you learn to not be too serious about it.
How I wish I did more crazy and selfish things in my past birthdays. A friend of mine traded her debut money to learn how to fly a plane abroad. Others opt for something like a Southeast Asian tour. Anything that will get you to travel is better than blowing all that cash in some hotel. Do something to boldly expand your horizons and passions.
The birthday is the most selfish date on your personal calendar. People are nice to you. They become more tolerant of your actions. You can pretty much do whatever you want because, “It’s my party and I can cry if I want to.” Act like a buffoon and your friends will still forgive you.
As an example, try pinching a close friend on the cheeks. Do it with your entire hands and palms, like you want to see a disfigured face on your birthday. If your friend complains, argue that it’s your special day today. Believe me, whoever you do this to will (at least) pause to ponder the logic.
I am almost 27 now. I don’t get the birthday blues anymore. Being a Cancer-Leo cusp, we’re supposed to be a symbol of fire: Whatever room we enter, we bring vibrant light. I’m glad to say that is the case now.
So break out the candles for that birthday cake. Pop the song Birthday Sex by Jeremih, even though I have a mixed opinion about the message of the song. Bring out that birthday suit while you’re at it, well, because it works well with that song.
Learn to accept happy thoughts from family and friends. Actually, be grateful for them. Learn to simply enjoy life and, most importantly, yourself.
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