Birthday History 101

It’s that time of year again. The time when I look back on all the May 20ths that have come and gone, the ones that left me in tears, the ones that left me asking, “why?” Yup… it’s birthday time again.

Last year I mentioned, very briefly, my history of bad birthdays but I didn’t go into specifics. This was pre-book so I think I was still keeping myself fairly guarded. However, the time for that is gone and it’s time to dive into this history. Are you ready?

It all started in 2005 with my 21st birthday. A 21st birthday should be a day to celebrate and drink way too much (if that’s your kind of thing). My plans were simple: a night in Boston with my best friend, brother, sister, and mother. I didn’t really drink much at that time (wasn’t a big partier in college) so my brother tried his best to order me drinks he thought I’d like. We started the night at an Irish pub (because Boston, duh) and loaded up on food to help with the all-night drink fest. After dinner we went to a couple places but I just wasn’t having any fun. I wasn’t finding that “one drink” that tickled my fancy and the night felt like a lost cause.

Then we ended up at one bar in particular that was overrun with Navy sailors. They had just docked in Boston Harbor and had a night off so the place was swarming with them. My mom, being my mom, invited a few to come sit with us. I was already annoyed at my lack of a fun evening, so this simply added to it. Then you add onto that the fact that a couple of them started hitting on my sister and friend inviting them out with them. At that point I stormed out because I just wanted the night to be over. Melodramatic? Possibly, but if you can’t be melodramatic on your birthday, then when can you?

My brother followed me out and gave me a pep talk. It was the kind of pep talk that only a big brother can give and even though I don’t remember everything he said, I remember the feeling of it. Thankfully he convinced my mother to leave there after the current round and go somewhere new. Everyone thought it might be a good idea to get some more food (given the amount of alcohol that my mother had drank at that point) so we went to one place where I ordered a White Russian… something I knew for a fact that I liked. Well, the bartender forgot the Kahlua so it was just vodka and milk. I obviously couldn’t drink that but before I had a chance to fix the order the entire drink was spilled all over the table… by my mother. This was the point that we all exchanged looks, decided the night was over, and that was that.

On the way back to the hotel, my friend was trying to calm me down saying things like, “Let’s just put her to bed and then we can go back out,” but I was so furious I could barely hear her. My sister was trying to talk sense into my mother about 20 paces in front of us and on the wind coming back in my direction I heard, “I don’t give a shit!”

We put her to bed, my brother went home, and me, my sister, and friend changed into some comfy clothes and went for a walk. We found a little playground nearby and just stayed there for a bit. None of us thought to bring our wallets so anything else was out of the question. The night had been a complete disaster and it’s one of those things that you don’t get a “do over” for. A 21st birthday comes only once in your life and mine is something that I can never forget.

I didn’t think anything could ever top that birthday in terms of disasters, but when my 22nd rolled around I was proven very very wrong…

The day was all planned out. My mother and I were going to do some shopping, grab lunch, and then we’d have a family dinner later that night. Seems simple enough, right? Well, when we were at lunch she got a call from a strange number. It was from our town and I recognized it as the police department (remember when you were little and you had to memorize the police and fire department phone numbers?). We brushed it off thinking it was nothing and went about the day. When we got home a few hours later, her boyfriend (who had lived with us for about 9 years) wasn’t home. We didn’t think anything of it because it was typical for him to disappear so I headed upstairs to my room. About 10 minutes later there was a knock on the door.

Now, a knock on the door on your birthday gives you a sense of excitement. Ooo, did someone send me flowers or something? These are the thoughts that were going through my head has I went downstairs to open the door. However, upon actually opening the front door I was pulled outside by some random person. I screamed for my mother while people stormed into my house. Why was this happening, you may ask? Well, my mother’s boyfriend had been selling drugs and the police arrested him earlier that day. That’s what the phone call was. They were calling every contact in his phone.

I had no idea what was going on because I didn’t know about any of this so for the next 3 hours I just watched in horror as my house got ransacked. Drug sniffing dogs going in and out, asshole detectives threatening me by telling me I would lose my house if I didn’t give them information that I didn’t have… basically a living nightmare. It was one of those things that you see play out in a movie or an episode of Law & Order and never ever think it could happen to you. Even now as I write this 15 years later, I can still feel the anxiety from that day.

Needless to say, my mother broke up with him and he was never allowed in the house ever again. It’s hard to put words on that day but I was beginning to think my birthday was cursed. How could 2 colossally bad birthdays happen in a row if I wasn’t cursed?

After 21 & 22 I had no idea what was in store for me and while nothing as bad as either of those ever happened again, almost every single birthday since has left me in tears. Whether it was a fight with a friend, a fight with my ex, or just general aggravation, my birthday has never been something to celebrate. I’m always crying by the end of the day. Again, that may sound melodramatic, but here me out on this one…

When you have to fight for attention and scream to be heard, your birthday becomes the one day when you don’t have to do that. You get to pick what kind of food you want to eat or the movie you want to see or whatever. It’s literally your day… the day you came into the world. However, for me, something always happens. Something always goes wrong and it feels as though those happy birthday memories are long behind me. That’s not to say I haven’t had decent birthdays in the last 15 years, but it gets harder and harder to pick out those happy moments when all you see are the ones that made you cry.

I don’t know what 37 will look like. I don’t know if it’ll be better than 36 or about the same. I’m fully vaccinated but people are still weary to go out so who knows. I would be perfectly content to even just spend a few hours with a couple of friends. That alone would beat last year and hopefully cut into any crying that may happen, but there’s no way to know really.

You’re probably reading this and thinking, “Well, obviously if you only think bad thoughts only bad things will happen,” and you’re right but I actually try so hard every year to not anticipate the worst case scenario. I always try to be hopeful and think, “This is the year that everything will be fine.” I really truly do and maybe my renewed sense of mindfulness will help that, but it’s still hard not to lean on history in these situations. I hope this year will be different but until it’s actually here there’s no way for me to know.

If you’ve had a terribly bad birthday, tell me about it below. Let’s share in our mutual pain and celebrate that we’re on the other side.

- Danielle