When special occasions become hard to celebrate.

Aug 28

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Birthdays, Christmas, anniversaries, or holidays of any and every kind; we all love them. At least, we usually love them for being a beautiful way to celebrate this incredible existence. But when things go horribly wrong on one of these celebrated days, a day of which the exact date is hard to forget, they can begin to serve as an overwhelming and unwanted reminder of the past. To some degree I have seen almost everyone deal with this; whether Christmas becomes a glaring reminder of someone that's no longer around, or a birthday becomes a forced recognition of time passing without achieving goals, it's common.

Still, no one wants to be the grinch, or the person who struggles to 'let their hair down' and partake in a celebration. But personally, the thought of celebrating a date that reminds me so viscerally of things I would rather forget is a much worse option than any backlash I receive for pushing the day aside. For me, this 'date' is my birthday. It's the day that I experienced one of the worst traumas of my life when I turned 20, as well as the date that was so caught up in my psychotic delusions that it still evokes feelings and thoughts that every other day of the year are much easier to drown out.

Perhaps that is the cruelest part about horrible things happening on days everyone expects you to be happy. It changes every single celebration of that day for the rest of your life. Yes you can question 'what is in a date anyway?' and try to take a step back and remind yourself thats its all just an arbitrary way we humans like to break down time. But for me at the moment that only seems to heighten the feeling that what I go through on my birthday is wrong. I compare it to the fact that I don't know the exact date of most of my other traumas, and although that doesn't make them easier to deal with in the long term, it means that no particular day of the year is a trigger. None of the joy of any of any other special occasions is robbed. It also means when I am struggling with them, I don't feel the need to smile through it and seem grateful for any attention that day of struggle receives.

I was again reminded of the power of a date two days ago, when I turned 25. Typically an age that is celebrated more than most as the 'quarter-century', but that just made it all the more difficult. This year is only the second year out of the past seven that I haven't been in hospital in the days around my birthday, so I'm still experimenting with the best way to deal with it. I have had the most success so far with creating new happy memories and surrounding myself with everyone I love on some day around the date. Then on my actual birthday, I just get through as best I can.

This year I again went with this 'it's just another day' approach and tried to ignore it. I took the date off social media so no one would remember, and scheduled my day so I saw almost no one that actually knew. That worked surprisingly well for avoiding almost all the emotionally confusing 'Happy Birthday' messages that I love, yet struggle with. But despite my avoidance, my subconscious back-lashed and gifted me with a constant sense of heaviness paired with acute anxiety to carry around all day.

I stayed busy, leaving the house before 6am, cycling 90 minutes to uni, then followed that with 4 hours of study, an hour of foam rolling/stretching, an hour of walking in the sun, and then another 2 hours of study. I did almost all this completely solo. I tried to meditate and accept the constant feeling of dread, but anytime I did I would start to cry. So instead I entered such a state of avoidance and denial, that when I caught up with a friend I knew wouldn't know, I found that despite wanting to talk about it I actually couldn't bring myself to tell them. This continued at training with my incredible running family, where I avoided being there at the start just in case anyone didn't need the facebook reminder to remember and attention was brought to me.

Thankfully as luck would have it, I did get the only birthday present I needed to make the day a brilliant one despite my struggles. I got to run for 30 minutes continuously for the first time in 19 weeks. For that blissful half hour, my internal world lightened as I once again felt the power and peace that the simple movement of running brought into my life.

I approached what my mind was doing with a sense of curiosity. I wondered why I felt the need to be so alone and separate myself from the world. The conclusion I have come up with so far is because my internal world is such a fragile place on my birthday, that every emotion gets confused.

Part of me is so happy and feels so loved when someone reaches out to wish me well or celebrate with me. I feel a deeper than usual connection to others; and the reminders of how incredible my support system is sparks such gratitude for being alive. This part of me wants people to know and to celebrate so I can feel more. This part wants to laugh and hug and welcome the love that comes my way.

But then there is also the part that gets triggered at any reminder of the trauma I still carry from five years ago, making me want to curl up in a ball and cry. Then yet another part of me feels guilty every time I hear 'Happy Birthday', because I am unable to describe any of my emotions on the day as truly happy.

After five years I thought it would be easier, but Monday proved to me that I still have a long way to go before the 26th of August will be an easy day for me to get through. I still don't know what to do. Do I tell people to ignore it and then deal with feeling relieved, but also a little cheated and unloved when they actually do? Or do I allow the extra attention and feel infinitely loved and appreciated, but deal with more flashbacks and PTSD symptoms than I otherwise would? It feels like either way at the moment I am left conflicted. That makes it damn hard, because everyone around me just wants to do what is best for me. I'm still not sure how anyone can help or what they should say/not say. Saying happy birthday reminds me of the trauma, but then someone saying anything other than happy birthday and being cautious around me or ignoring it reminds me that my birthday has been tainted and I am missing out on a wonderful celebration.

I know I am not alone in this, and that it can be any significant date. If anyone does have tactics that have worked for them, feel free to message or comment them below. For now I will continue navigating the coming days as the heaviness starts to dissipate, and keep reflecting so I can learn more for next year. I am working on changing the expectation that 'I should be happy and grateful and celebrate', to recognising that what I feel is valid and needs to be felt. Thankfully I always have hope for change, because experience tells me feelings and triggers can be worked through if I face them head on and do the work required.

If you have a loved one cruelly struggling with a day that's usually a celebration, talk about it and discuss what the best approach for them is. Sometimes it is treating it like any other day, but sometimes this can add to the pain and loss rather than take it away. If you struggle, try not to place expectations on yourself to behave a certain way or put up with certain rituals just because it's a particular date of the year. We all deal our own way.

I look forward to one day finding my own way, and having a birthday where someone says 'Happy Birthday' to me, and I am able to truthfully reply, 'Thankyou, today I am happy'.