YOU ARE NOT ALONE - A companion online community discussion board for The Mental Illness Happy Hour podcast with Paul Gilmartin

Yesterday was my birthday. No, don’t say it. The last thing I want to hear is “Happy Birthday!” I’m officially 29 now (for real, not like those 45 year old women who lie about their ages). The last time I remember actually looking forward to my birthday was age seven. I remember my dad coming to that very birthday party to tell me that my grandpa had died. Now, I was not close to either my dad or his father, but my first experience with death is not as good of a birthday present as a Ninja Turtle.

So maybe that had something to do with my shattering of this whole birthday bullshit concept. No one is really special for living another year. Hell, I share the same date with millions of people (including Pee Wee Herman). The secretary at work turned 50 yesterday. Let her have all the damn balloons she wants.

The real birthday issue probably stems from the same place that most of my problems do: my mother. She still tries to remind me of these great birthday parties I had as a child. That was before the divorce, before the older boy touched me, and before I began watching the evening news. One party per year with a sheet cake cannot hide the crap that comes with the other 364 days that come before it.

I’m not upset about getting older. My 20s were full of damage that I’m happy to distance myself from. In fact, I’m looking forward to 30. It’s a fresh start…one that won’t begin with my distant relatives singing to me as I pretend to enjoy blowing out candles. Yesterday may have been the best birthday of my life. I went to work, ate carry-out pizza, and spent time with my wife and daughters. What more could I ask for?

How do you feel about your birthday?

Hi. Your post struck home with me. It was my 40th birthday a few weeks ago. I have come to hate this time of year. My wedding anniversary, my birthday, and my wife's birthday are all within a few weeks of each other, and a new school year starts a few weeks after. For at least the last 4-5 years, it has been a constant reminder of how another year has gone by and yet the problems and situations that I can't stand any more are still there, and I feel like I have accomplished so little and made so little progress that it feels hopeless that things will ever get better.

It sounds nice that you seemed to be able to take control of and redefine what you want your birthday to mean to you and did some things that had meaning for you yesterday. It's an arbitrary day, but so is New Year's, or any other day by which we mark off time. You're right in that nobody really needs special recognition for just being here another year - I guess you can look at it as looking ahead to what you want to do over the next year. You're certainly not alone in being bothered by birthdays, though.

Thanks for your thoughts, Weary. I think you said it best, "It's an arbitrary day, but so is New Year's, or any other day by which we mark off time."

Perhaps now that I've made it through one birthday on my own terms, the next one will not stress me out as I see it approach on the calendar.

I take the other stance, i love birthdays because I love to celebrate people. I'm supportive of friends and having a specific reason to be encouraging or to give people things is nice. I like giving people things for no reason so birthdays give me a reason. I like to celebrate the existence of people and birthdays give me that opportunity.

I can appreciate them being difficult for you, but it's good that something you enjoyed happened. That's what I wish people, that something they like happens, be it a quiet night in or a loud, ruckus of a party.

My birthday is in November and my plan is to get some major school work done just before it so I can relax for my last month in college. Like I said, i love birthdays. I never do anything for them, i'm usually in school and it's maybe the last calm week of the semester, but I'm excited for them. Not everyone lives to whatever age I am, and not everyone has what I have at my age. I may not live as long as others or be as accomplished as others but when I'm not comparing myself to others I'm pretty happy with where I am. I tend to be bitter about holidays but I still have a childlike joy of my birthday.

I'm glad to read all of these opinions of birthdays.
I turned 37 a couple of weeks ago, and as the years go by birthdays get harder. Not because I hate getting older, but because I hate this growing list of things I haven't done yet... I'm single, I don't have a "real" career, I'm STILL not over my depression....it's a very long list.

I worked on my birthday, which I always rather enjoy. Because it was a late shift, a couple of friends made me lunch so we could celebrate the day. Their kids were so excited to see me, and they made me a beautiful cake. A big part of me never wants to celebrate birthdays, because I don't like the attention and I don't think I'm worth it. But these last few years I have been softening a bit. It does feel good to know that some people love me enough to want to celebrate the day that I was born...to show me that they are glad I am a part of their lives. No big parties, no crazy drunken wildness, just good food and cake and laughs and hugs. It's good for me, because I get so depressed that I forget there are people out there who do in fact love me.

You're right...cake and a song one day a year don't change the pain that might accompany every other day of the year. The great thing about being an adult is that you can choose how you spend that day (as well as all the rest!), and with whom.

My birthday was almost a month ago and after living through a hectic birthday at work a few years ago (on a Monday too, ugh), I decided to plan my summer vacation around my birthday so I can get the heck away from that place. I don't care what I'm doing on "the big day," as long as I don't have to go to work! Generally, my depression flares up pretty good pre- and post-birthday so I'm kinda eh right now, but I know to expect it so that helps. Lots of coulda/shoulda/wouldas in regards to the passing of time, blah blah blah. It passes eventually and then it's time to get all eh over the holiday season. Woo. *twirls finger*

My birthday was on the 21st and I think it was one of the worst ones yet. Not because I got unwanted attention, but just the opposite. Nobody remembered. Well, nobody at work or among my friends did. My family is a write-off: mother dead, father schitzophrenic and sister doesn't want anything to do with me. So that doesn't count. I'm 38 now and single so there's no significant other to dote on me. I'm somewhat used to being alone but the birthday thing is like getting doused with cold water, reminding me of just how alone I really am. It's kind of a double edged sword too, because I don't want to go around telling everyone that "it's my birthday!" I would feel like a loser wanting attention! I didn't expect people at work to remember, but I was hoping they would. That day the depression stole up from behind and smacked me hard in the back of the head. When the day was through I went home feeling worthless and insignificant, and sore from my physical self-hatred (yes, even at work). I've often wondered at those people who have surprise parties, like one I attended with a boyfriend a long time ago. I didn't know the person, but I marvelled at the room full of people who loved her and wanted to celebrate her. I couldn't imagine how wonderful that would be. Of course it's hard to be loved by many when you let very few in. It's hard to let those few in when I don't even want to let myself in. I know it's hard, but try to be grateful when somebody wants to celebrate you. There are many out there who would cry with joy if just one person would come to them and say "I'm glad that you were born today!"

I heard this comedian discuss this issue, and I agree with his view of it. There are milestone birthdays worth celebrating: 1, 5, 10,13,16, 18, 19, 20, 21 for reasons that should be obvious, then he went on to say that all the rest have to end in zero until you get to be about 81, then every fucking year is a celebration that you thought you'd never have. I think he said when you hit 90, you could just about get away with everything: shitting your pants, stealing candy bars, and so forth (short of murder) because you had a whole list of excuses for the behavior. Then, you could sit back and laugh while someone had to deal with the mess. That might be your only form of entertainment at that age.

I feel the same about anniversaries, valentines day and so forth. Hell, every day is a good day to kiss and be happy, so cherish each one the way others do the special occasions. My views aren't politically correct, so I don't share them too often in big groups. I just smile and pretend.