It's My Birthday And I'll Cry If I Want To

I always feel very neutral if not somewhat unappeased with my own birthing day.
 
A message I received last night that made me sigh with relief,
This person just saw into my soul.
 
I got a lot of messages yesterday,
On my 37th birthday,
Wishing me love and asking me,
Have you had a great day?
 
As I tried to answer,
I would remind myself,
Be excited,
It’s your birthday,
You’re supposed to be filled with joy and cake,
And yet,
In the spirit of honesty,
My answer was a pretty consistent ‘fine’ across the board,
Somewhat unappeased if you will.
 
It’s no big deal,
I’m not scared of getting older,
As much as I won’t deny the myriad feelings that come with edging closer to a new decade,
The biological ticking echoing in my ears,
The extra laughter lines around my mouth,
I feel generally like I’ve got most of my life together,
Not that you’d guess it from my entirely beige diet and silly silly errors the past week.
 
I just don’t LOVE my birthday.
 
I used to feel this intense pressure to have fun,
Put up some post about 37 things I’ve learned in my 37 years,
Make myself look like a pretty little thing make up head,
Take pictures with my all friends,
My entire 20-something person family,
My fit boyfriend,
Whilst justifying just how productive the past year of my life had been.
 
This year,
I’m sharing my birthday party with my 4 year old niece,
We're having a purple and yellow dotty cake because those are our favourite colours,
And to be quite honest,
That is my buzz,
That’s where I get my jollies,
Which I think means fun but now I’m scared means something else and if so, I sincerely apologise. 
 
Point is,
This wild expectation to show up,
To behave in a way that society deems as acceptable,
It's more pervasive than therapists who tell you you've got daddy issues.
 
I hear this pressure in people to show their ‘photo dumps’ of the week,
Look at me, 
I have fun as well as work,
And on those weeks that your only evidence of a life outside of work is a freshly baked croissant from Tesco and a clouded over sunrise,
This feeling of comparison creeps in that screams,
You’re boring,
You’re not living your life,
Look how much everyone else is living,
Whilst you’re sat at home watching Selling the OC and eating leftover pizza.
 
You know,
I didn’t watch Instagram stories for an entire year when they first started,
Despite having so much joy in my life,
I found myself looking at others and thinking,
Yes but maybe they’re having MORE joy,
You must travel Emilia,
Get a boyfriend,
Be funnier,
Do more.
 
When in reality,
Without comparison,
I was more content with my life than a pig in poop.
 
I suppose this email has nothing to do with food or body image or sex or indeed,
My hilarious nature,
But rather a reminder,
From someone who is officially another year older and therefore immediately infinitely wiser.
 
You do you, babe.
Know what’s important to you,
Know what you value,
And live in alignment with that as best as you possibly can.
 
And when you feel off?
Look at those things,
Ask yourself,
Are my actions aligned with what I say is important to me?
 
And if you notice comparison,
Again ask yourself,
What is it that’s triggering me here?
Are their values the same as mine?
And if not,
Why would I want the life that they’re living?
And finally,
What are they sacrificing to live that life?
Because everything comes with sacrifice. 
 
As Oliver Burkeman reminds us,
This is not a dress rehearsal,
Every choice requires myriad sacrifices.
 
The question is,
Are you sacrificing the right things for you?
 
Have a beautiful weekend,
Get off instagram stories.

I’m always here,
Em x