Birthday Blues

My birthday is tomorrow. I never celebrate. Never truly celebrated. There was this one time a friend of mine threw me a party with a live band though. It was nice. Would’ve been nicer if all the people I continually showed up for actually came. Would’ve been nice to have one day of the year when the love and sacrifice I showed them was actually reciprocated. I appreciated it, don’t get me wrong, but overall I felt bad because it was a waste of money in my eyes. I’ve always hated the idea of “my birthday”. I’ve been pondering the last few days as to why I hate it so much. Why in the days leading up to the day, the depression creeps in. It always comes. Every year like clockwork.

The depression is here now. I don’t write this for sympathy, but it’s the truth. I pinpointed the year I truly realized me making it to another year wasn’t important to anyone around me. Sweet 16. However; there wasn’t anything sweet about me turning 16. I had just come out to my family as queer the year before so our relationship was strained. No one asked me what I wanted to do. No one asked me what I wanted. What I needed. No one made a big to do about it. I ended up opting to go to an amusement park with my girlfriend at the time and a friend. I’ll never forget my mom driving me to drop me off. During the car ride there, you could cut the tension in the air with a knife. My mother wasn’t happy about me spending time with my gf and I was unhappy that my family didn’t want to spend time with me. I was hurt that no one in my family cared enough to make this one birthday special for me.

For fucks sake, how hard was it to bring happiness and joy to your child? Clearly, it didn’t matter. I got a card. If I remember correctly, it was a card that contained a $20 bill. Not even enough for me to do much of anything with. Yeah, for my 16th birthday. I learned then that love was an action word. My gf at the time, 15 years old, did her best to make sure I was okay. She spent way more than $20 on me and gave me gifts. She also walked around Six Flags with me in the cold. It is October. It was freezing. Hear me out, this isn’t about the money. I would’ve rather spent time with my family doing whatever. They could’ve kept the $20. It was about the fact that no thought was put into me. But then again it never was.

The card. The card contained the signature of only my mother. Not my “stepdad” who I was made to address and refer to as my “dad”. Not my siblings…just her. Imagine the thoughts going through my undeveloped 16 year old brain. Do they hate me? Has me being queer truly brought this much shame to my family that they would choose to disregard a milestone birthday? What did this mean for me going forward? Did I have a family at all? Is this what happens when you choose to follow your heart and what is natural for you? Did I not deserve love?

That year and every year going forward, I decided to never look forward to my birthday. I let any expectation I had die. And it did die. I’ve hated this time of year ever since. Literally…my “Sweet 16” changed me forever.

Thank you for reading.