Celebrations? Birthdays? What?

Celebrations…. why do they exist? And why are they so important?

I used to be a huge fan of holidays – didn’t matter which one, or what was being celebrated. Holidays were fun, time packed with family, food, sometimes presents, always a good time…

But really – looking back at those times in my childhood, they weren’t really good times, packed with family, food, maybe presents, but also carried an undercurrent of tension and discomfort. Outside of this category were always birthdays.

Let’s talk about birthday celebrations as well.  I was born on my oldest brother’s birthday, three days after my Mother’s, and two days before my other brother’s.  My sister’s birthday was two months earlier, five days after my Dad’s.  I don’t remember ever having my own birthday celebration.  It was always combined with my siblings.  I don’t remember having a birthday all to myself until I was married. Then my first husband’s birthday was six days after mine.  It seems like I chased after individually celebrating my birthday almost all my life. 

Now that I am an aging adult, I don’t care much about celebrating birthdays. Yes, the gifts are nice, cake is always a bonus, but I don’t get as excited about them as I always I thought I should.  Perhaps the individualization of the day removed some of the mystique and glamour. 

Or, perhaps I have come to realize that they are just aren’t that important at this time in my life.  Who knew all this would come to this?