Since it’s August, I think I won’t stop talking about my birthday. 😅 I know it’s been weeks already, but hey, it’s still August. The entrance to the month was already full of emotions and life lessons.
It all started with Echo asking what I wanted to do for my birthday. Our birthdays are literally just two days apart from each other. I told him, “Nothing.”
“Look, I know as adults, we don’t celebrate it anymore, but can I offer you a one-week vacation?”
I told him it wasn’t important and that I had lots of work to finish. I couldn’t afford to lose time again and “enjoy.” I had been putting it off for months before August, until I finally agreed because he kept bringing it up once in a while.
I always work on my birthday.Since I was 14, I dropped the connection between “celebrating” and “birthday.” I remember waking up for school, excited to live the day. I met my mom, who was busy preparing food, my sister and my brother, who were eating breakfast, and eventually my dad, who was just grumpy while waiting to drive us to school. I was such a dramatic kid at that time that I was so sad I got to school without anyone remembering it was my birthday.
Looking back, I laugh at this scene every time, because maybe, as an adult, it was supposed to mean nothing. But to fourteen-year-old me, the greetings and a cake were everything. I recall that this was the root of why adult me doesn’t celebrate my birthday anymore after that. I hated being celebrated.
It was one of the starting points in my childhood that led me to not expect anything from anybody so I wouldn’t feel disappointed. I’d rather carry the burden myself than ask somebody for a favor. I didn’t notice as a child that it gradually became my foundation for not asking for help or favors. It quietly built a curiosity in me at 15 years old about how to earn my own money. I didn’t want to bother my parents to buy me toys, CDs, Chuck Taylors, a guitar, or a digital camera. I BOUGHT THEM ALL MYSELF. I tried to get a job every summer. I tried hustling as a student and earned my own money.
I loved the control I had over my life. Not exactly over everything, but as a student and eventually as a bootstrapped solopreneur, being independent was a big advantage. I learned to make decisions at a tender age, and I loved every bit of it. Maybe that’s why I also didn’t become a team player. I loved working on my own. I disliked working in groups. I always excelled at solo projects, but sometimes excelled when I was the one leading. Leading meant making decisions for everyone. I loved the nature of it.
Little did I know that the effect it had on my adulthood would be too much independence mixed with other childhood traumas, eventually leading me to failures and regrets. In relationships, it was easy for me to let go of someone. In my mind: I can always live on my own. Because of too much independence, I let go of lovers when the situation was something I couldn’t control and wasn’t going the way I wanted it to. Patience and giving chances were not in my vocabulary. If it’s not going my way, it’s not going in my life. With circumstances beyond my control, whether in relationships, business, or any other life situation, I also easily let go. I remember a friend of mine once said to me, “Maybe you should reflect on yourself. Maybe you’re being too naive and inconsiderate.”
That remark never left my mind. It was something to ponder on.
At this age, I realize that everything has an end. I am beginning to feel the exhaustion of carrying everything by myself. Sometimes, we become so good at providing for ourselves that we stop allowing other people to provide anything for us. That’s why when Echo offered something so pure, a simple gesture of love, I can’t believe that I rejected it initially.I left it unappreciated by saying, “No, I don’t wanna celebrate anything.” Maybe the fourteen-year-old me still lives within me and would still want that piece of “being seen.” Perhaps the adult version of me just doesn’t want any fuss, but would love being appreciated.
Who doesn’t want to?
Because for the last few years, I have been putting myself on the pedestal as the strong and independent person, finally, I am learning to step aside and try to put others first. It actually feels so rewarding! Indeed, I am human. Admitting that being weak is a brave step towards change.
And maybe being independent doesn’t always mean doing everything alone. It’s just, sometimes, it means knowing when to let someone in and love you.
