Yesterday was my 43rd birthday. Holy fuckballs. I am FORTY THREE YEARS OLD. Had you asked me at 20 if I’d see 2020 I’d have laughed in your face. Even though I’ve had a lot of anxiety about my birthday (I will explain) because people are very kind and I have people who love me, they helped a lot.
So why am I so fucking birthday anxious? It isn’t aging. I’m good with aging even the bullshit parts. I love my grey hairs, I love that. I love that I’m officially at Fine Ass Old Auntie Age. Being young was real hard and I wouldn’t go back unless someone gave me a LOT of money to have back then and I got to keep what I’ve learned.
The thing is, I have a lot of trauma around um, expressing that I want things that aren’t necessary for survival. I feel guilty when I window shop, I hear the “teasing” of my parents about being greedy. Or the exapseration when I was like other kids and would be like, OMG I want that. You know, normal kid stuff.
Parents I want to say what is coming for you. Pay attention.
Some kids will hear everything you say and how you say it. I was a kid who got sick a lot. I know now that my parents had little money but then, what I heard was how much of a financial burden I was. Every prescription of antibiotics for my ear or other infections. Trips to the ER. School supplies. School clothes. Food. I very acutely felt the weight. I don’t think they did it on purpose necessarily but a lot of that behavior, the “teasing” really damaged me.
For instance. I did not know this was a bad story until I was trying to be funny and told a friend a long time ago and they were horrified.
Scene: Me as a little potato maybe 9 years old. I tried to keep a running tally of how much money I would owe my parents when I grew up. I tried to figure out how much it cost for me to eat, how much my clothes cost, I taught myself to try and eat less. Be small. Years ago I thought it was a cute story…it is not.
There are other traumas but that one kind of sums it up. I honestly thought I’d dealt with this. In my thirties I was fine sharing my wishlists and kind of being more casual about this stuff. I don’t know what happened but for the last few years I’ve had the hardest time saying like, I’d like this stuff for my birthday or for christmas.
Even from my partner or my bestie it has just been so hard. This year, y’all. Full disclosure. So I made this birthday wishlist. Please don’t feel obligated to buy stuff. I used it as some exposure therapy on myself. I LITERALLY spent almost 3 full months curating it. I was terrified that, I’d put too many things on it. I was anxious because I put things on it that my lil fam doesn’t need. It took me literal weeks to even share the damn thing and then I kept screwing with it.
And I KNOW I KNOW how this shit sounds. I feel stupid but here we are.
That being said. I decided to really try this year. I got some gifts from friends and y’all, I wept. Knowing that there are people who were like, HEY lil potato have a good birthday. There has been sneakers (will post pics when I get a good one), yarn, snacks. A new stock pot. Having people give me things I’ve said explicitly that I want and not have them later on use it against me or to say, hey look I did something nice for you already. it has meant a lot.
The other thing is, I treated myself. It was also very important for me in my process of re-parenting myself, and being a good Space Dad to me. So below find some photos of me being a good Space Dad to myself.I had a bunch of other shit in my cart but, I was freaked out enough that I had to edit it, think about it and edit it. So I got what is important to me. Nutrition and skin care.
I ordered a yoga mat too but I think it got stolen.
But overall, I was a good Dad to myself. I’m gonna keep working on it.
BUT happy mother fucking birthday to me. Holy shit I’m 43!