20 February 2008
Happy birthday to me! I'm 28 years old.
I'm kind of stupid about my birthday. No one over the age of 10 should get as worked up about this as I do. All day yesterday, I'd look at the date and think, "Tomorrow is my birthday." This morning, I woke up thinking, "Today is my birthday!" All day long, that's going to repeat through my head. "Today is my birthday, I'm 28 years old. Today is my birthday. Birthday, birthday, birthday!"
I won't tell anyone at work, though. I won't remind people who are supposed to know. But I'll mention it online and be all giddy about it. It's my birthday!! I get presents!
I'm so crazy. I feel a little guilty about feeling selfish about the day. But it doesn't stop me from being insanely excited to get presents and cards. So I won't mention my birthday to people who I expect to already know because I don't want to sound selfish ("It's my birthday! Get me presents!"), but if people forget, I get depressed and upset ("They forgot about me. They don't care.")
I tried to explain this to Justin last night. Yesterday was a rough day--I've been dealing with a lot of anxiety lately; stupidly worrying about a wedding that less than 30 people are going to attend, as well as trying to function well at work when I'm having trouble concentrating, especially on new, complicated projects. But I was certain, by the time I got into his place last night, that no one was going to remember my birthday at all. Not even him. (Except, of course, that Grandma already sent me a card, so obviously she remembered. And when I got into his place, I saw that there was a UPS slip for a package that they hadn't left. Silly UPS people.)
Anyway, Justin came up to me in the kitchen, hugged me, and said, "Know what tomorrow is?"
"Wednesday," I said.
He grinned and kissed my cheek. "And what else?"
"Um . . . Wednesday?" This is a prime example of my crazy. I wouldn't even come out and say it, even though he obviously remembered.
"And what else?"
Very quietly, "My birthday."
"Exactly!" He smiled really big and gave me another squeeze. And then got very concerned when he realized that I was tearing up. So I tried to explain to him my worry that no one was going to remember, how I was worried because there weren't any cards for me in the mail, and how until I'd seen the package slip, I was sure no one was going to send me anything.
"I worry that no one will send me anything," I said. Then, in a smaller voice, "No one remembers. [Big sigh.] No one cares."
"You're too cute," he laughed.
"Rar!" I grumbled at him.
"But it's a cute rar."
He just called me a few minutes ago on his way to work to wish me a happy birthday. I love this man! He knows me too well. Unfortunately, because he's working a very long day today (the garden center is receiving several trucks full of deliveries today), he's going to be too exhausted to make me anything fancy for dinner tonight. But he has off on Thursdays, so he's planning to do something for me tomorrow.
I'm feeling much better about the whole thing today. I don't know why I get so worked up about it. Maybe it springs from my childhood, when my sister used to decorate the dining room the night before anyone's birthday so it looked like a party when we came down for breakfast. That was awesome.
Or maybe it's just part of the crazy that overflows from my brain.
I don't really care all that much today. I'm just excited that it's my birthday. I'm 28 years old today. :)