My 34th Birthday

My birthday didn’t feel like any kind of special day. My partner has made the last few months feel like my birthday, especially when I couldn’t find any stars in the depressingly dark sky. I learned from an early age that the people you depend on will dictate how you’re comfortable moving in the world. I’ve made many decisions based on what I need to be resourcefully alive and it’s only increased since I graduated college. As my mind twirls with all the realizations of how similar many neurodivergent friends experience life, I know overwhelm is only the tip of the surface. The most harrowing realization is that somewhere along the line, I learned to hold care and consideration in an extremely high regard. This meant for anyone and everyone, but especially me. I wake up in the morning and put myself at the top of my to-do list so that everyone can receive the best version of myself. I affirm and reaffirm my commitment to being a good person, not a nice person. I drink coffee and take my meds, talk to my partner, tell my dogs to get a job, and start the day.

Usually, my birthday is a big momentous occasion with plans and celebrations near and far. But this year, I felt a joyful melancholy I refer to as “happy-sad”. I had a dream about the ghosts of former friendships who for some reason or other would not be celebrating my birthday with me now or the special celebrations later down the line.

I remembered the last two birthdays have been laced with selfishness from people meant to create and maintain safe spaces.

And I woke up to the sweet smile of a partner who made a day I usually exhilaratingly enjoyed, perfectly pleasant. My partner made us a lovely breakfast with a paint and sip activity before evening plans with my mother for dinner at a Victorian-decorated eatery somewhere west of Indy.

At 16, my mother started an altercation with me that would change the nature of our relationship forever. And though she’s tried (to no avail as of this writing) to right that wrong, I still don’t feel I can separate new grievances from old. To be frank, I never cared about the opinion of others regarding my feelings. I felt bad that I didn’t feel the way they wanted me to feel. At 34, I still remember all the ways I had to grow up, put my deeply depressing feelings down, and navigate life with another person who was destined to die to me. For the longest time, I believed that was what I deserved. Care didn’t look like check-ins, comfort, or consideration. It looked like stability: bills paid, roof over my head, food to eat. Closeness was never prioritized, only responsibility.

As a result of this, I realized that the family members who had taken so much time to witness my early years were extremely unreliable and self-concerned. For years throughout high school and college, I would hear people say, “Your mother didn’t tell us about xyz event” but those same people had simply never asked. My mother’s journey is her own, so I’ve committed to only speaking on what I’ve witnessed through my own lens. There’s no real way for me to describe how it feels to hear declarative statements about how far away we lived, or how inconvenient it was to “come get me” over and over from people without context and then when the context is applied, disappointment follows. Family members would flit away to their lives because a 25-minute drive felt like too much work. So, when I finally reflected on the experiences of my childhood in college through months of therapy, I realized that I didn’t have community. I sought to change that.

I have cousins who are much older than me and my experience with them has led to me not having experiences with their children, either. I accepted that long ago. It still feels odd some days that I don’t have the closeness of cousins because of deaths, isolation, molestation, etc. I longed to be close with people and called to say as much, but times are hard for everyone and no one can afford to visit or be visited. I desire to distance myself from anything that remotely resembles people-pleasing and that’s the only way I could foster those relationships. Some family members would do things for me out of a weird sense of obligation, not because of actual care. I decided my care would come in the form of no performance. I didn’t and don’t desire to have a relationship with family members who allow people to sneak by accountability from their perverse behaviors and shush the bad happenings under the rug. I will never need more unsafe spaces. I don’t have a sense of familial piety with my biological, extended family. I think it’s important to acknowledge the chances they were given, the time they took for granted, and the actions that affected me.

If I move into dissent with people, it is usually because phrases have context and words have meaning. This is not an opinion, although some would like to deem it so of their own volition. This unreliability led me to seek out what it meant to care about someone not only through MY lens, but also through what/how they communicated to me and their action pattern(s). I have time and time again understood that we simply cannot rely on our feelings and thoughts alone when emotions run high, and when I’m upset I truly do not give two fucks about someone’s feelings. Usually I have every reason to be upset and believe in relieving my anger immediately. On top of this, I am usually ready to hold space for the anger of my friends because the world has absolutely given us so much to be angry about in almost every way imaginable. Unfortunately, I usually have to remember that people don’t tend to hold space for anger. They think that things happen to everyone every day and your plights are not unique or commendable. But that’s not balanced to me. I don’t think it’s my reality either. We all have stories and unique experiences, I simply choose not to “get over it” or “shit happens” my way throughout life. I bring intense joy, laughter, and relief to so many people because I truly understand how it feels to not be heard. It absolutely sucks to say something with 100 percent of your truth attached and have someone stomp on that truth with pitchforks and torches.

I believe in the way we treat each other from the past to the present. I believe we have to disrupt patterns to disrupt behaviors. I am not diagnosed with anything but I have monitored patterns for as long as I can remember. I notice the way someone’s body language has shifted and ask questions so as not to assume. I ask so, so, so many questions and I’ve been told it can be quite frustrating. I understand and extend grace to these people, because I know the idea of someone understanding you so completely and fully to the point of active, intentional participation in your life can feel quite… overwhelming.

Since getting divorced in my late 20s, I realized that people do NOT have the capacity to handle the mental struggle that surrounds life transitions. You don’t just need friends, you seriously need community. Therapists, medical providers, friends who garden, friends who cook, friends who bring the snacks. It sucks to feel alone. The basic necessities are not optional. They’re things we agree scientifically do not need to be externally obtained but obtained regardless of how (think physical needs, safety needs, esteem even). We are all going through something and/or going to go through something. That does not mean I have to endure it like a Tuesday morning pop quiz from Sky Daddy. In fact, I’d challenge anyone to reframe the need to struggle. No one really NEEDS to struggle. That does not feel radical to me, but you would think so whenever I’ve said it aloud in response to criticism of my shortcomings. Needing to see my struggle doesn’t feel like love to me. That doesn’t feel like care or consideration.

Today, and mostly well before today, I have changed. I have community. People who will make sure I eat, and check on me when the depression gets deep. People who send the funds without me asking because they know life is putting belt to ass for me. And that’s what inspired me to be the kind of person who shows up, listens and takes great care and precaution to hold my friends near. I have moved through conflict with gentleness and intention to welcome free expression. Because despite what I experienced, I know my feelings are valid and my actions must have accountability in the present. This is not and never to be confused with the idea that someone must be in my life. My actions most usually are powered by explicit intentions of consideration and thus if detachment is necessary, acceptance is immediate. I don’t have an endless well of grace and reprieve from consequences. I don’t want to, either. People do things wrong. People make mistakes. The meaningful way forward is not in the criticism of the mistake but the commitment to reducing the impact. I often affirm that intention and impact do both matter however impact is not without consequences. If someone shot me in the foot, even if their intentions were accidental, the impact is that I would have still have a hole in my foot. A reminder of the pain in the past, a current pain, and the possibility of a future pain. I would rightfully express whatever I felt would make the situation better for me and they would act accordingly going forward. I only understand this to make sense.

True accountability means owning up for your mistakes with a combination of care and consideration, in my eyes. Sincerity is not enough. Sincerity doesn’t build trust on a sturdy foundation. Someone extending grace must believe that your intentions are from a place of good faith otherwise the grace is temporary. I call myself a princess because I believe in the way we treat each other… not with textbook versions of care but the actual care someone requests out of their mouths. Who am I to tell someone the way I’ve hurt them if I claim to care about them? Who am I to lie when they ask questions they soon learn they’d rather not have pondered? So, we go along our paths together and if someone asks, I answer. I consider with care, the nature in which they’re asking, who they are to me, and how I can show up for them. If they give me a solution, I am upfront and honest about the level of effort I’m able to provide. I am in communication as frequently as I’ve described. I tell new connections that reminders and pings are godsends for me. There is indeed always a choice as we progress through the lives we’re living. I understand that peer-pressure is a real concern for generations past, but I am not someone easily swayed by feelings and opinions about my own.

As a sweet reminder of how people show up for me, I received so many well wishes across all the ways to reach me and my heart felt peaceful. I’m still posting the birthday photos for a few more days. I received some excellent items from my Throne wishlist. Thank you to Anonymous and Trippz and my mama. I truly have had a special week of reflection and I’m so thankful to the people who continue to not only see and hear me, but take action with that information as well. My goal for this year is to learn to thrive while surviving. I deserve a soft life. I deserve peace. I deserve love and respect with connection, care, and consideration at the forefront. I deserve rest and I deserve prosperity. I have said “I’m 34, I’m 34, I’m 34,” many times in the mirror and I am so pleased to see this young woman in the mirror. She is patient and silly. She is whimsical and caring. She is intelligent and breathtaking. She’s charming and kind. That’s the kind of woman I needed at 16, and I’m proud to know she exists while I still have so much life left to live. What a beautiful gift to enter into this next chapter of life with extreme clarity in the way in which the world opens up for me.