The Requisite Birthday Post

A Milestone Birthday

Inasmuch as I’ve been rattling on endlessly about my 70th birthday, the 30 year cycle it’s brought to light, and the fact that 70 is a milestone for me, I figured I at least owed my loyal readers a post for the day. I don’t know which twisty turny paths my mind might take, but it’s clear to me that write it, I must.

My plans to spend my birthday alone with my cats and a movie or two rather than in the company of strangers, or at best, friendly acquaintances, must have been on my mind last night. I dreamt I was in different large groups where I was blending in with the crowd so much that when everyone sat down for a meal, I couldn’t even find an open seat, so I wandered off to a patio area to eat alone. At one point, an aunt was about to announce to everyone it was my birthday. I looked at her and said “please don’t”.

There was even a boy who shared my birthday. We’d acknowledged it the day before, but on the day, he acted like he didn’t even know me, much less remember we shared our date of birth. I’m guessing the dream was bringing back memories of when I was alone and forgotten in a crowd, not by choice, but by circumstance. Thankfully, I’ve finally gotten past the need to be recognized in a large group of people I know only because we all show up at the same place, on the same night every week.

The Gift of A Quiet Evening Alone

Now that I’ve changed things up, the number of people I actually know well enough to want to hang out with between dances is fairly small, which goes well with my introverted self anyway. But it’s not up to them to make my significant birthday special. I can do that better on my own by doing the things I want to do. Yet, it does bring up old memories of 30 years ago when I was alone, but didn’t really want to be.

Between my convoluted feelings over my mom’s untimely death, and a divorce that was dragging on, and unnecessarily contentious, I wasn’t really in a celebratory mood, even if there had been people around me who wanted to help me celebrate. At the time, I think I needed the healing powers of the ugly crying I did after my dad called from where he was celebrating my uncle’s birthday. I can look back now and be grateful I had that time to myself to take stock, to grieve, and to deal with the ugly emotions spewing forth in privacy.

Though I’m in a much better place this time around, and spending part of the day alone is a gift rather than a painful reminder, I know some of those old emotions are still hanging out, waiting for me to finish facing them so I can let them go for good. In a lot of ways, I see this birthday as an opportunity to take stock and see where I still need to work on healing the old stuff to make space for the new.

Focusing on the Healing

Looking back over the decades, I’ve had some truly wonderful birthdays, and some miserable ones, but for the most part, the majority have been forgettable. The few wonderful ones will always remain in my heart, with gratitude for the people who helped make them special. I’m letting go of the miserable ones one by one. It’s time to let go of the one that carried so much sadness and grief.

In between my manicure and workout, my daily walk, and my dinner with the cats, I’ll be pulling out the wounds, the scars, the sorrow, and the self-flagellation. I’ll face each emotion head on, and finally give myself permission to let them go. Their purpose in my head and heart has run its course. It’s time to allow those old wounds to, if not fully heal, at least scar over.

Inasmuch as writing is my therapy, I suspect I’ll be doing a lot of it tomorrow in my alone time. Some may be shared, while most, I’m sure will remain in the private annals of my notebooks and computer files. This process of mine works. It’s not necessarily speedy, nor is it ever a complete Spring cleaning. It’s part of a process which by necessity, needs to be slow and careful most of the time. If the sadness and trauma I carried was trivial, it would be easier to simply sweep it all out, light a match to the pile of refuse, and watch it all burn away in cleansing fire.

Inner Work is Never Complete

Unfortunately, a lot of my wounds are traumas that run deep. They weren’t acquired frivolously, so they need to be released with the same gravity and attention to detail which formed them in the first place. In accordance with my family’s values, they were also stuffed down when I should have allowed myself to feel them, so part of my process involves excavation of an archeological kind. Over the years, as I’ve unpeeled layer upon layer of sometimes solid rock, I’ve gathered the tools I have today which allow me to step back into my own darkness and shine a spotlight on the next few layers requiring healing.

The time I’ll spend alone the rest of this week isn’t because no one cares. It’s because I need to do some more work on myself.

Grateful for the Choice of Solitude

My gratitudes today are:

1. I’m grateful for the tools I’ve acquired while working through past traumas.
2. I’m grateful for the friends who understand my need for solitude.
3. I’m grateful for the time and desire to spend the day of my birthday alone with my own thoughts and feelings.
4. I’m grateful for another year of health, happiness, joy, and friendship. My friends may be few, but at least I’m not trying to be anyone but myself any more.
5. I’m grateful for 2 nights of dancing even though I’m skipping Thursday this week.

About the Author

Sheri Conaway is a Holistic Ghostwriter, and an advocate for cats and mental health. Sheri believes in the Laws of Attraction, but only if you are a participant rather than just an observer. Her mission is to Make Vulnerable Beautiful. In her spare time, she’s also an accountant with extensive experience in Government Contracting.