I am not good at celebrating myself. At all.
The idea of throwing a party in the name of me fills me with absolute dread. Because surely nobody else really gives a shit?!
Birthdays come down to ‘I’m going to this pub, come if you want, or don’t, whatever’ and I don’t think I could so much as dream of actually throwing a wedding and I definitely couldn’t have a hen.
Yet I love, love, love organising this stuff for other people! Give me half a chance to organise your hen party, birthday, or even just work’s leaving drinks and I will be snapping at you ankles like a Chihuahua on heat.
I don’t know why I’m so afraid to celebrate myself, I think it’s a combination of a lot of things. I’ve been burned before, with parties that nobody has bothered to show up to – like a sad seven year old in a tacky movie. That stings and sticks with you. I’m also seemingly the friend that people bring their moans about their social calendars to. When you’re the friend repeatedly being moaned to about hen dos and showers and birthdays and weddings, it’s hard not to take that on board and project it on to yourself.
I have friends who make their birthday a month-long event, I’ve been to three hen parties for the same bride, and have dropped £100s on hotels and travel and outfits and gifts for all of these things. I don’t mind, I love helping people celebrate the special times in people’s lives. Is there anything better than a wedding?! Not to me! I bloody love them. Wouldn’t be able to throw my own without feeling guilty though, seriously, how do you brides do that?!
My friend Lisa asked me about a baby shower the other day, a topic I’d been avoiding. Nobody else had mentioned it so avoidance was easy. But I suddenly had to actually discuss it. I say discuss it, the conversation basically went:
L: Is anyone throwing you a baby shower? I’ll throw it!
M: HAHAHA no.
L: Why not?
M: Because nobody cares and nobody will come and I’ll probably just do something once the baby is here and um other excuses.
And that was that. She sent me flowers instead because she gets it and is awesome.
But now I feel weird. I feel weird because my Instagram feed is repeatedly filled with women celebrating their pregnancies, their births, their sisterhoods. Yet I don’t think I could ever do that, there’s certainly a part of me that wants to, but that’s the part of me I silence. I’m the one who chose to get pregnant, most of my friends couldn’t give a shit about that, and why should they?
Sometimes I get upset over the lack of me stuff that happens in my life, but I also realise I’d much rather spend my time and energy celebrating other people in my life.
I’ll probably never have the balls to ask somebody to be my bridesmaid, or to throw myself a big birthday bash. But I’ll sure as fuck do all that for you, you don’t even need to ask!
Is it just me and my stupid anxiety brain? Am I the only one who’d rather shave my bikini line with a rusty razor than openly celebrate myself? Or are there more of you? Show yourselves…