Birthdays have always been hard for me. I absolutely LOVE celebrating the births of my friends and family, I feel that their existence and special impact on the lives of those around them deserves to be celebrated! Unfortunately, I feel the exact opposite way about my own birthdays. It’s really hard for me to accept that I am a worthwhile person who deserves special things on her birthday too. People drop off flowers, gifts and cards and I am always surprised that the take the time to make me feel special on my birthday. It’s hard to think of myself as being as special and worthy of love as those I hold dear.
Yesterday was my birthday and I had a wonderful day! It started at midnight when my wonderful husband woke me up (yes, I was already passed out at midnight) and sang me “Happy Birthday”! When I woke up (for real this time) I was greeted by my happy puppy and took her for a really nice walk on the dark foggy streets. I came home, fed the animals, fed myself, showered and headed off to work. My dad called from South Africa to wish me a happy birthday – hearing his voice makes me feel SO happy I can’t even describe it, it reminds me of being a kid and my mom waking me up to talk to him on my birthday, it always makes the day feel SO good. At work Carson’s mom, aunt, sister and my niece dropped by to give me some flowers. After work I went to see my mom for a chat and came home. We went out for tapas and had ice cream cake (MAJOR recovery win there!), with candles in the shape of a heart – it was really special day.
I couldn’t help but feel awkward that people were making such a big deal out of the day, but I guess recovery is all about restoring your sense of self-worth. I have to start listing to that little voice inside my heart that says maybe I am worth all the love and happiness that all those I care for are worth. Maybe I’m not so broken that I am undeserving of wonderful things. Maybe, just maybe, I am the person that all my friends and family see me as and not the person my disorder has convinced me I am.