Birthday

Having a birthday is an exercise in receiving gifts. My grandma once told me about receiving gifts (or compliments). People will often shy away from the situation, dismissing it casually -- it's easier to gift than to receive. But the brave or important thing to do, is to accept it, and whole-heartedly thank the other person for it. They put conscious effort into it, they're putting themselves out there, and your acknowledgement of it means the world.

It might be just because I've been somewhat drained the last few days, but somehow I still feel there's something more to it on birthdays. I don't really want to do the whole birthday thing. It makes me feel awkward, and a bit sad for some reason. Today I ignored my parent's calls twice, once on the morning, and once in the evening. I hesitantly replied to felicitations on whatsapp. Carlota and Manca offered to "cook whatever I wanted", because it's "my birthday, my choice", which, although a funny/kind gesture, I didn't really appreciate. (Although in the end I did enjoy the dinner we had, Sophie joined too and they made great tacos.)

I had been thinking all day about this aspect of gratefullness, but now, lying in bed, I've come to a new view. What I don't like about my birthday, is that I need to perform. There's just an entire day packed with these kinds of conversations I'm not great at having, where internet neurdivergents will talk about masking. They cost effort, and don't relate to how I feel. I don't feel held, of understood. What if, as a gift for my birthday, I'd get conversations of understanding?