The thing about birthdays

Today's a rare occasion which calls for a rare blog post. It's my birthday! Yay!

(all pictures were taken today, on my best birthday ever, doing all the things I love)

But I haven't always reacted to the 23rd of December that way. Ever since I turned twelve, it's been kind of a touchy subject, and now it's turned into a family joke. Yesterday when the clock was about to tick 00:00, my parents asked: "So, any age crises or hate speeches about your birthday planned?"

Okay, so I should probably tell you what happened on my birthday seven years ago.

It begins with little girl with a big dream. At that time I wanted to be a singer. I'd participated in my school's talent shows and little contests, but I was completely ready to make it in the real world (or so I thought, but who could've told me that bullying and a severe case of stage fright would get to me so hard just two years after that... But that's a whole other story for another time).

At that twelfth birthday begun a habit that's been tormenting my birthdays ever since: thinking about everyone my age who've achieved much cooler things in their lives than me and hating on everything I've done all my life. (You know how you sometimes stop to think about some stupid thing you said three years ago. It was like that, but even cringier.)

I know, sad. Kids all around the world have much worse problems and there I was complaining that I'd survived yet another year.

So that was how it went down each year after that. Last year it started well, but then I wrote a list of twenty or so points about why my birthday was the worst day of the year and then presented it in front of my whole family and cried.

But that's where this year's birthday comes in. Why is it any different this time?

During this year I've really worked on myself. Most importantly self respect and self love. When December came around and I started planning what to do on my birthday, I also started making a mental list of all the reasons my birthday is the BEST day of the year.

I realized my birthday isn't the day to hate on myself and belittle all my accomplishments.

That's what New Years is for.

Just kidding.

I just had to stop taking things so seriously. I don't have to grow up just because I'm a legal adult (have been for a year... wow, I'm old) . That says nothing about what things I can like or what I can do on my free time (except that as an adult I can go to night clubs and stuff, so I guess that's kinda cool).

My birthday is the best day of the year because it's a celebration of how far I've come, of all the things I've done and all the fears I've overcome. It may be a slow progress sometimes, but that's totally okay. Nineteen years isn't even 20% of my entire life.

I don't need to have everything figured out yet. I don't need to be a teen author or find success before my twenties to be worth some fun and  have right to celebrate my birthday.

And if Peter Pan thinks I'm too old for Neverland, I'll just have to build my own.

Which is super awesome, and possible, because of all the things I've done and gone through during these 19 years. The thing about birthdays is that they're everything you make them.

In a way, they're just like regular days. Just a little more special. Because cake. (although I could just eat cake every day since I'm so grown up. Aww yeah)

So happy birthday, me. In your own weird way, you're pretty awesome.

Share this with someone who hates their birthday, or just struggles with growing up as much as I do :)

I hope you all have a very merry Christmas!

Love,

Em.