What if holidays and birthdays just weren’t a thing we did?
This is absolutely me projecting my own experience, yes.
Hear me out though.
I don’t know if I can think of a single person I know who genuinely loves and looks forward to every holiday and celebration. Sure, sometimes we all love a day where we get pampered a little extra. And of course, there’s something about the christmakkuh season that brings moments of joy, even if that joy is sometimes just more time off work and space for self-reflection.
I think this past go-around of each put a lot into perspective for me. Somehow, the dates I used to look forward to the most became the ones I was dreading most.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ll take any chance I get for a moment of spotlight. Especially if it means being surrounded by a swarm of my favorite people. At the same time, we can’t ignore the fact that holidays, birthdays, and staple celebrations rarely feel like smooth sailing.
Personally, most holidays for me are tied to a lot of old trauma and family drama that doesn’t actually feel good. Birthdays and certain anniversaries, in the grand scheme of things, are lovely. And while often – most times even – the love and happiness outweigh the stings, we as humans are wired in a pretty wonky way. We take one shitty thing and let it cast a shadow over the better stuff. I know I’m not alone in feeling like birthdays don’t always feel cute; we hold people to expectations that can leave us disappointed.
But imagine a world… no birthdays. We just get to be.
We celebrate a best friend on a random Tuesday at 3:33pm. We take a couple hours off work for no explainable reason other than this felt important five minutes ago. No candles. No countdown. No “did you get my text?” or “damn, really thought they’d at least call..” anxiety spiral.
What if we didn’t panic-buy gifts on the one day a year we’ve known was coming for twelve months? What if instead we just gifted them a toy car that looks like the one they loved when they were four but can’t justify buying now, plus a gift card to somewhere with go-karts. Or what if you found a slightly pricey piece of jewelry that made you think of someone and you bought it just because, and gave it to them the next time you saw them, instead of waiting for their birthday because you’re “supposed to.”
I don’t know. There’s something about the expectations baked into birthdays that, at least this year, don’t feel worth the pressure. I wish there were a norm where every day felt created equal, and we just found days to celebrate without needing permission from the calendar.
Because ultimately, if you really love someone, you’ll find a reason to celebrate them every time you’re with them. Or at the very least, being with them will feel like a celebration every time.
Thirty-three is going to be a good year. I know it. I’m nearly confident, knowing what I have coming and what I have to look forward to. But truthfully, I wish I could just be 33. I wish there were a skip card.
Not as a way of ignoring change. Not as a way of avoiding being celebrated. But because the love I feel year-round is enough, and I don’t need an annual date to prove it.
yours truly,
Marty Party – 33, F, my bed
Hawaiian Princess Pieces 