Five days have passed since my birthday and I can honestly say that these last few days have felt more lethargic and pained than any of recent memory. I think I instilled the idea of hating birthdays into myself so strongly that it tarnishes my mental state regardless of whether it was enjoyable or not. I don’t know at what point I decided I didn’t like them, but I can’t remember when I did so it must have been long ago. I just have some sort of fundamental disagreement with the idea of celebrating the day. I know that my massive self-deprecation has a part to play in it because I truly dislike being celebrated or praised in anyway, and the day being a celebration of oneself makes it deeply uncomfortable for me. It’s not that I have an old-fashioned view of my masculinity where I can’t be anything more than stoic and strong. I don’t think I’m either of those things. My view of myself is so negative that when I receive a compliment of any nature part of me has to second guess it. Part of me wonders what they want in return for the gesture, or just simply part of me wonders why they’re doing it at all. And obviously there’s a reason for the celebration and praise on your birthday, but that part feels arbitrary to me. Every day that passes I get older, and that doesn’t change or become more significant on any one day, at least to me. The passing of time does weigh on me frequently, and acknowledging it directly brings that fear to the forefront of my mind.
Whenever my birthday rolls back around it just reminds of the lack of life I lived in the last 365 days. I feel shame for not having done anything to progress my life or better myself in anyway, when I know that I want to. I feel the same crushing sentiment on New Year’s Eve. A moment where people accept the future ahead of them and set out goals for how they wish to proceed. But I feel like I can’t join in on that celebration because I know that I will invariably do nothing with my year. Something may arise that was not planned that changes an aspect of my life, but I struggle to make it a determination to change myself on my own. That’s not to say that I haven’t changed, I think I’ve changed more as a person in the last three years than I have in the 23 years before that. But, truthfully, I don’t know that I can take credit for most of that change.
I’ll sit and write, and sit and write, talking about how much I wish to change, and how much I know I need to change given the reminder of times unrelenting current, but It’s just that. Sitting and writing.
Grub's Dirt 