Celebrating Ourselves Beyond External Validation
I’m heading into a milestone birthday in a couple of days and I thought that it might be interesting to read something from my book that I wrote about another birthday, but I think it’s pretty universal and it just seemed timely to share this and it just seemed timely to share this.
So, with your permission, I’m going to go ahead and read from my book from my perspective today, and maybe I’ll jump on afterwards and we can talk about if I feel the same, that we are encouraged, even expected, to brandish our entitlement card a kind of 24-hour golden ticket, to be selfish and indulgent. Honestly, shouldn’t we be celebrating the mother who bore us? So we plan our birthdays accordingly, with all the associated expectations and attachments, simultaneously setting the stage with cliches of what self-care looks like from the outside, while on the inside we quietly keep the score of how others are celebrating us.
So it was my birthday and I woke up with all the preconceived notions of how I was supposed to feel, along with the high expectations for others and how they were supposed to make me feel. I resisted the urge to check my social media and feed my ego with the puffed-up proof that I am liked, and made myself a cup of tea. Instead, my husband had left a card propped up on the kitchen counter and I smiled, thinking to myself he always finds the funniest cards. My smile was quickly interrupted, though, by the intrusive, judgmental voice of the scorekeeper in my head that said yeah, but no flowers. I took a deep breath. I was proud of myself for calling the thought out for what it was just a thought and disempowered its hold on me by replacing it with a thought that served me better, powered its hold on me by replacing it with a thought that served me better. I moved into the living room to do my morning reading and, to my delight, my husband had made me a fire score. Take that unwanted voice in my head. Wait, who’s playing the score-keeping game now?
I sat down cross-legged on the floor with my book and my cup of tea, feeling the warmth of the flame on my back. Life is good. I thought I noticed that the humidifier was on. He must have filled it up for me. He knows how the fire dries out my skin. How thoughtful of him. Big score, I’m so fortunate, I told myself, and was effusive with my gratitude for him, knowing just what I needed when he told me that it was not him who did that. My scorekeeper was in its element. The thoughts came crashing in disappointment. I thanked him for the fire and the card, read two out of three points and reached for my phone. I repeat life is made up of moments and each moment is what you make it.
In that moment, I allowed myself to be led by all the limiting beliefs of what a happy birthday is supposed to look like, and instead of reading, which is actually what I wanted to do and would have brought me joy in that moment I resorted to looking for external validation instead, internal validation instead. The birthday wishes were coming in at quite a pace already, and out of the 36 or people so far, there were less than three that I could even recognize or tell you anything about. If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all, came into my head, and I wondered if just saying something nice without associated true connection is worse than not saying anything at all.
Hmm, I started to think about the people I hadn’t heard from yet, setting up more expectations for the people I care about. Why do we do that? Why do we set the bar so high for others to celebrate us and so low for celebrating ourselves. Hmm, why can’t we believe that we deserve to be celebrated the other 364 days of the year? How can we expect others to celebrate us if we don’t celebrate ourselves every day? If I am counting the conditional things that are not met as wins, and my saboteur scorekeeping voice is keeping track of expectations that are not met, isn’t that the same thing? What would be different if we showed up for ourselves instead of relying on others to prove our worth?
By the end of that day, there were over 200 happy birthday wishes, and though it was nice to be remembered, I felt more gratitude for the reminder that, at the end of the day, it is up to me to celebrate and honor myself. Let’s consider each day our birthday and celebrate ourselves every day. And so you know, I often say to my clients that we teach what we most often need to learn, and, as I am coming up on my 60th birthday, I am grateful for the reminder of what I wrote in my book. I’m grateful to be here.
I’m grateful for you, dear listeners, for joining me regularly and listening to me rant and listening to me wonder and listening to me think out loud, and you’ve shared with me that my stories have resonated with you, and well, that means a lot. It really, really does. My birthday, which isn’t for another couple of days, is already fantastic, because I get to grow older, I get to celebrate another birthday. I get to grow older, I get to celebrate another birthday. I get to be me.
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