Birthdays....

Growing up there was always one day that I knew would be all about me.
I can remember being so excited about my birthday, the night before I could barely sleep just thinking about it, and that morning when I woke up... it was the greatest day. It wasn't about the gifts (I was spoiled when I was young) but it was just about the fact that it was the one day out of every year that was all about me.

My parents always did their best to make my birthday the greatest day, my mother would bake me whatever cake I wanted, my dad would always stay home from work, I was always allowed to have as many people over as I wanted. Heck even up until my teenage years my family did their best to make that day a HUGE celebration. No matter how crappy the year.... it always made me realize how happy they were that I was there.... that I had been born.... and I had lived another year.

When I first moved out, it was right before my birthday. I was turning 19 in a new city, with a new boyfriend, and our roommates. I thought I would have a whole different kind of party. Instead my boyfriend bought me a DVD and took me to the local college campus to try and convince me to enroll. There was no party. No celebration. Nothing. And it was sad.

I asked my boyfriend about it, why he didn't do anything, and he told me that in his family birthdays weren't such a big thing for him.
So for his birthday I decided to show him what it was like. I bought him a cake ( I wasn't so into cooking back then ), I bought candles, I showed up at his work and surprised him. Later that night we threw a party at our apartment. I thought the message had been made clear.... birthdays are  a big thing to me... and that's how we are going to roll from now on.

My 20th birthday I had to work, when I came home my roommates and I did what we normally did... sat around, played video games.... no special anything.

For his birthday, I threw him a surprise birthday party, I contacted all of his old college friends plus our friends in the city, I invited his family, my family, and everyone I could think of. I had us all meet at a piano bar in Lansing. It was an amazing night.

My 21st birthday, he tried. He invited a bunch of people for a bar hop... on a Sunday night... not many people could make it, the bars were dead...., he got mad at me the next day when I was hung over..., but hey he tried.

My 22nd birthday... nothing.....

My 23rd birthday... I decided to take matters into my own hands. I did the planning, I invited people, and I was going to make it happen. I wanted some feeling of the old times. And then we got into a fight..... a bad fight. While he was screaming at me for some... unknown reason, I was getting text messages from my friends, asking when I was going to get there. My whole night was spent crying and yelling and feeling completely unloved... by my now husband, while my friends were waiting for me. It was... probably the worst birthday I ever had.

My 24th birthday.... I don't remember at all. I couldn't tell you if I had a party or what.

My 25th birthday I decided to try again at the party planning. I planned a huge party in my hometown, I got RSVP's and everything. I had to work, and my boyfriend at the time couldn't make it to Jackson so as soon as I got out of work he took me out to eat, made a huge deal, made the day start out so amazing. Then I got to Jackson, a few of my friends showed up.... but finally I was exhausted and decided to go to sleep. Granted I was so surprised when Robin was there, sleeping on my sisters couch when I woke up. It turned out way better than I thought... but for a few minutes I felt like it was going to go bad.

And in two days it will be my 26th birthday.
I will be working, I made no plans, and as far as I know no one else has made plans for me.
It will be the first year that I have given up on trying to have an amazing birthday.
I bought myself a bottle of champagne to toast to the end. I am not going to go out of the way to make my birthday special again.
I am sick of the disappointment.
The sad part is that everyone says it's just one of those things that happens when you are an adult. But why? Why does it have to happen? Why do we have to give up our childish joy just because we are old? Everyone should be able to hold onto some childish joy regardless of what they have gone through or how old they are. It keeps you alive... keeps you hoping... keeps you sane.... and yet we are so quick to give up.

So I guess my point is.... find one thing that amuses you and go with it. I myself still enjoy sitting in the rain. Every chance I get... I just stand or sit or play in the rain. Because in that moment when the rain hits my skin I smile. Don't lose your childish wonderment just because you are getting older.