Birthday Dread

The temperatures have dropped, and leaves collect in colorful drifts along the sidewalk. Fall has arrived, and with it, my birthday. This is the one day a year it feels okay to celebrate myself, and I dread it.

Birthdays used to be easy. I celebrated with friends, received flowers from my then-husband, and spoke with family on the phone. I felt that I mattered. That all changed when I deconstructed my life to make room for authenticity. Four years ago, I came out as queer, separated from my husband, and began holding my parents accountable for their behavior. Embracing my true self seemed to repel all the people who had previously cared about me and celebrated my life with me. That year, I spent my birthday alone, waiting for well-wishes that never came.

Since then, my birthday has felt like a burden. A day marked with feelings of loneliness and abandonment. A day that others only celebrated when I had pretended to be someone else.

I want to be happy. I want my child-like joy to set the tone for my birthday. Yet as the day approaches each year, feelings of dread settle in my chest. My jaw becomes permanently clenched. A voice in my head whispers my deepest fear: no one cares about you. I wait for the day to arrive and prove that voice right.

I've spent so much time trying to create authentic relationships since that lonely birthday. I've faced the ugly truths about myself with compassion and understanding. I've learned to be vulnerable. I've started to ask for the same in return. Not many can handle this level of emotional honesty. It has made finding connections challenging and filled with disappointment.

It's so easy to see the failed relationships and so hard to focus on the good ones. My brain is trained to look for abandonment. This morning, I started a list of people who care about me to balance out my fear. Already, I find myself adding to it as more friends reach out with birthday wishes.

I hope that as years pass, this fear around my birthday begins to fade. People do care about me. People do want to celebrate the real me. It just took a while to find them. It's just taking a while to believe it.

People care about me:

• My friend, who meets with me for coffee every two weeks, asks about my life

• My friend who has driven in to celebrate my birthday with me for the last 3 years

• My friend who has wished me happy birthday every year for over a decade

• My neighbors who are curious about my life and art

• My friend who sent me some money to treat myself

• My friend who bought my art at my first ever art show

• My coworkers who ask for updates on projects I am working on

• strangers who find my art and take the time to tell me it improved their day

• My step-grandparent who checks in with me regularly

• My new friend with the same crazy vision and passion as me