The Blog

The One Where I Talk About Birthdays…Especially Mine.

Grumy Birthday Cat.
My birthday will be here before I know it. Bles (aka, ƒü¢K).
It seems to sneak up on me. I get overwhelmed.
This really weird feeling of wanting to be incredibly loved and celebrated butts up against this battle between self-deprecating silence and what seems like most selfish of all requests–which we dare not vocalize– to want to be celebrated on this day, of all others, more than anyone else, or atleast enough that we feel it. You know–the one where we came kicking and screaming out of our mother’s vagina covered in goop–and hoping someone else that our own mother will treat us as loved and special, in some way that doesn’t feel contrived or awkward. 
Speaking of awkward, I’ve very awkward when it comes to myself. I simply would love to be celebrated on my own birthday, yet it seems I learned some very conflicting ideas of love. I don’t often vocalize what I need or want. I know what I like, but there isn’t a constant flow of “I need this, please help that…”
I blame organized, Western systems of shitty-ass Christianity for fucking me up quite a bit. Not the truth of God and we are loved–but I was taught to do anything you love, you have to learn to “clean the toilets” and do every form of servitude which is demeaning and not interesting to you whatsoever, so that you can earn your place in ministry. Show you have a genuine heart, and most of all, show that you’re not a fame-seeking rockstar (whut?) in church. And by doing things you’ve proven yourself to do that you love, you will be loved. Awesome. Prove yourself and earn love, just like God says. Wait, actually, no. He don’t, er–didn’t. (Oh, com’on ministry folks, you know this is what we learned, don’t fool yourself–this is the model we all grew up with, and you put everyone else through, because? No reason, you just do.)
Growing up, and especially at a liberal arts Bible college learned this weird thing–you know–JOY. Jesus, others, yourself. Who’s the idiot who came up with that? So, put yourself last in this shitty litany of love, because everyone is worth loving first, before yourself, and THEN you will feel loved. NO. It is exhausting, teaching false humility, and you learn to give, give, give until you’re completely emtpy. 
Then there’s humility and passion. It was repeated that the “heart is deceitfully wicked, and full of evil,” yet juxtaposed against “God will give you the desires of your heart,” and “your body is a temple. So, my body is a holy temple that God lives in, with a shitty-ass bad, evil heart, and also, you can get the desires, when everything works out for good for those who love Him. That’s not conflicting. NOT. AT. ALL.
Then there’s every damn song you sing. Every song calls you a “wretch,” I swear. I’m sorry, I’m not John Newton, nor was I an English sailor who owned slaves, came to himself, and then felt horrifically guilty and ashamed. So, when he says “…saved a wretch like me…” that’s not my story, sorry. Bad theology repeatedly told me I was a piece of shit, “thank God for Jesus,” who had to die for our sins…rubbish. I’ll tell you my theology another time, but we are not crap, thank you.
So, there’s definitions of love of we learn. Then there’s people. Oh boy, the birthday and the people.
There’s who to invite––if you dare go out to eat, have a party, or what not. Do you make it an open invite, do you mix crowds?–you don’t want to offend anyone. It makes me question who even loves me, and who should come, and if there’s some that would want to come more than others. And disappointment for those whom you want to come the most, and those who you’d rather not come, but guilt you or just “add themselves.” (there’s never free booze from me, btw.)
Don’t get me started on gifts. Do you even ask? What type of gifts are appropriate? Basically you say “No gifts,” but feels to me that you only do so you look humble, and not like a selfish douche who really wants shit. Especially from Amazon, that’s addictive. And I like Amazon.
I don’t know when birthdays became so complicated and loathed. Birthdays when i was younger were pizza, wings, “pop,” one friend from school, and a cake my grandma or mom made (lemon, please).

I think of my cousin, and a few others I know who have Down’s Syndrome. They tell you how it is.

“These people are boring.”
“This food sucks.”
“I want to go home, I don’t like this party.”

Instead, we, and I, as adults, have learned to mask our emotions, create this thin layer of visage, and ultimately bury what we really want for sake of maturity and appearances. I personally learned somewhere that I was loved conditionally, and that sucks big time, that’s not truth. But I learned it, nonetheless from school activities, grades, sports, and “doing.” Not much time for “being” as a teenager or student.
All this stuff and things floats around in my introspective, hyper-analytical mind.
I think that I’d like a Thundercats party. I loved the 80’s cartoon thundercats when i was growing up. Yes, I always have loved cats. Especially magical cartoon people cats who fight for truth, justice, honor, and loyalty (the thundercat way).
Or a camping trip on an island, with a boat, cooking out, swimming, and campy stuff. Eghck, it’ll be hot.
Whenever there’s a birthday, I always am chewing on this idea of being loved, what it looks like, how you know, and when you feel it. I think that’s the rub–what it feels like and what that looks like.
Whatever it is this year, I am going to fight something new–all the bullshit i’ve learned through adulting and growing up, and look to figuring out what true unconditional love is–not based on doing–but based on being who I am, and how others experience and love me.
But I will need help. Help sifting through all the aforementioned BS–I can’t do it alone, and its not just about my birthday, its every day. Isn’t that the same for all of us? Everyday? I know it is for me. I’ll need to hear and get assurance from time to time about what it means to be loved. And get help knowing that I am, what that looks like, and learn how that truly feels.
I hope you do too.
PS: I love gifts. Get me an amazon giftcard, the kitties thank you in advance.

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