Suicidal musings? On my birthday? Groundbreaking.
*miranda priestly voice*
If there are such things as suicidal clichés, I’d venture to say that one might be spending your birthday pontificating about how surprised you are that you lived to see another birthday. But maybe it’s not so much a cliché as it is a suicidal rite of passage. I know so many people who have dealt with passive and active suicidal ideation who celebrate each birthday with quiet surprise because each new age we hit is one we assumed we wouldn’t reach. Personally, my past five birthdays have felt like victories worth celebrating.
But this year, I want nothing to do with the celebration. I’m over it. I’m not proud of myself for making it another year. I’m not comforted by my own resilience. I’m still not certain, some days, that I’ll see another birthday. I think I expected at some point to wake up on my birthday and be able to say with confidence, “I’m happy I’m still alive—I want to be for a long time.” Or in the very least, “Yep, as expected, still here.”
Instead, I just feel like I’m on the shelf way past my expiration date. All I thought when I woke up this morning (and most mornings lately, tbh) was, “Fuck! I’m still alive! I didn’t plan for this! What the fuck am I supposed to do now!”
And honestly, that’s...fine.
Well, obviously, it’s not fine. It sucks. It’s hard. But I think it’s important not to force it. In my work as a mental health writer, I often say that small victories are worth celebrating: rousing yourself from a depressive spiral to brush your teeth or shower; resisting one tiny instance of negative self-talk; making it through a single day. And I believe those can be worth celebrating, I do.
But in order to celebrate—really celebrate, not just acknowledge with self-compassion—your heart has to be in it.
In his book Emotional First Aid, psychologist Guy Winch talked about how positive affirmations only work when they fall within a “range of believability,” otherwise our brains reject whatever positivity we’re trying to impart on them and we wind up feeling worse. And while “You should be proud that you didn’t kill yourself this year!” is far from your typical positive affirmation, I think the believability gap applies. This year, the chasm between what I know is logically worth celebrating and what I actually feel is too big. Like, sure, at one point I thought I wouldn’t live past 25 and so the fact that I still alive at 29 is cool, but honestly? More often than not, being alive in 2020 has felt like a burden, not a victory, so why add insult to injury by trying to put a triumphant spin on a heart that feels, this year at least, defeated?
That said, I don’t think past celebration has been for nothing and I don’t think I’ll never celebrate again. That’s just how it goes. Some years, my birthday will feel like a victory lap, and others, I’ll arrive kicking and screaming, and either way, it will always mean I’m alive. And that’s the important part.
So that’s my gift to me this year, I think: meeting myself where I’m at.
If you have a similarly complicated relationship with your birthday, how do you celebrate? Or not celebrate? Or prime yourself for another long year ahead? Or be kind to yourself about the year behind you? Asking for a friend.
If you’re thinking about suicide or just need someone to talk to right now, you can get support from any of the resources below:
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline
1-800-273-TALK (8255)
Crisis Text Line
Text HOME to 741-741
International suicide hotlines
A comprehensive resource list for people outside the US.
TrevorLifeline, TrevorChat, and TrevorText (LGBTQ+ crisis support)
1-866-488-7386
Text “Trevor” to 1-202-304-1200
Trans Lifeline
US: (877) 565-8860
I didn't think I'd live past 20, but 12 years later and I'm still somehow here. Birthdays remain weird for me. I remember once telling a friend how I wish people would do something for me during birthdays, like throw me a party. She said that that was weird, that I should be the one throwing my own party. I get what she meant, but I guess part of it is just me wanting other people to remember and act for me because I don't really know how I'm supposed to feel about it.
It’s nice to have my thoughts articulated so well from your perspective. Thank you sm for writing this. Today’s my nineteenth, an age I never would have thought I’d make three years ago