Why Saturdays used to be a no-no for my birthdays

[5 min read]

Why I didn't like my birthday on a Saturday

It doesn't matter what/how you feel about this for this is the girl I used to be, not the lady that I now am.

A few years ago, my aunt was getting married, a joyous occasion it was, everyone was happy, everyone, except me. I wasn't angry she was getting married, I was, in fact very happy for her. What I wasn't happy about however was her choice of date. 

I didn't realize how unhappy I was going to be about this until the day of the wedding because you see, that beloved day was my birthday, and no one paid me any attention.

Don't get me wrong, I wasn't a child who craved unnecessary attention. There were very few days in a year when I'd want the attention to be on me, my birthday, was one of those days and I didn't care if the world forgot, as long as my immediate family remembered, I was satisfied.

I must have curled under the table and cried that day as my mother hurried past me while I tried to remind her it was my day.

Shortly after that, I think I had a general dislike for anyone with anything to do on my birthday. I ignored the people I knew shared birthdays with me and pretended people who had my name didn't exist. It was worse with Saturdays, because there are always a lot of events.

I don't know exactly when and how it happened but, it did, I grew up. I now understand, that regardless of how many events are celebrated on my day, as long as I'm content and happy and doing what counts, it doesn't matter, even if other people don't remember. As long as I remember and I celebrate myself, that's what counts.

And it doesn't even matter, it's not that day that counts, it's every day that counts, the memories I make with myself and everyone I'm opportuned to meet

So, in essence happy birthday to me.

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