The Wisdom of Being a Year Older

A private reflection on friendships old and new

Today is my birthday. For those of you with birthdays this time of year, you know it often comes with a quiet kind of celebratory fatigue. A subtle longing for January 1. A desire to shake off everything that accumulated between Thanksgiving and now. To be done. To slow down. To begin again.

I’ve always believed I shied away from being celebrated because I’m introverted and don’t love being the center of attention. But I’m beginning to understand it has much more to do with a deeper belief, one I’m only now uncovering.

When I was young, I have very clear memories of being “double-gifted.” You know the phrase. This one is for your birthday and Christmas. I was loved. I was fortunate. But somewhere around four years old, my subconscious made an association that stayed with me. That my birthday didn’t quite deserve its own space. That it didn’t warrant a celebration that stood on its own.

In short, I internalized the belief: I am not worthy.

My 50th birthday. Loved, celebrated — and still learning how to receive it.

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