Sitting in the dining room, I gloomily stare at the lit candle on the birthday cake in front of me. Alone with just my family, I manage a smile, thanking them for their out-of-tune singing, and blow out the flame with a generic wish about wanting to be happy.
Birthdays are usually seen as an occasion for celebration, with loved ones throwing parties and giving away mounds of presents. Too often, though, I actually don’t enjoy my birthday because of the stress that comes with it.
The biggest barrier between me and birthday happiness is high expectations and my disappointment when those expectations are not fulfilled. As the only day every year where I’m allowed to make a huge deal about myself, my birthday has a lot to live up to.
Sometimes, I dream of a huge party — complete with aesthetic, Instagram-worthy balloons and streamers. It’s always fun to celebrate with a large gathering of friends, right? But then there are the stressors of planning a big birthday party: who to invite, how to set up, where to host it, what type of cake to buy, what party favors to get, etc. I start to spiral and overthink small details, and consequently my expectations get the best of me and I end up not hosting a party at all.
Whenever I do actually manage to host a party, it always falls short of my expectations. The joyous celebration of my imagination transforms into a burden of putting on a happy face and socializing with everyone. Listening to everyone sing happy birthday to me makes me feel trapped, as I look around and see a wall of eyes fixated on me.
On the other hand, I think other people’s birthdays are great and I am extremely serious about properly celebrating my friends on their birthdays. However, if I spend a lot of time picking out gifts or writing out heartfelt letters for others’ birthdays and don’t get one back on MY birthday, I don’t feel very special.
My sweet 16 birthday is coming up in May this year, and I feel like it has a lot to live up to — both in terms of having an extravagant party, but also showing that I have matured. By the time I turn 16, I’m supposed to have at least some part of my life figured out. High school is almost halfway over, but I’m not ready to go into college and the adult world so soon.
In the end, maybe the real cause of stress during my birthday is the knowledge that I’m only growing older — and seeing “Happy Birthday!” messages every year just reminds me that I’m running out of time to figure things out.
