Funny, is it not, that we mark birthdays as beginning at the time and day we are forcibly squished from our supposed happy place? Why not mark and celebrate them as having taken place at the time and day of pleasurable (we hope) climax and ultimate conception, you know, after the moans and groans of the chemical and electrical fireworks of orgasm have had their grand finale? Seems like a much happier event to me, one more worthy of celebrating.
My birthday is coming up in a few weeks and I'm already irritable. It happens every year without fail despite my best efforts of circumventing the mood with rational thought and willpower. Honestly, being born during winters months in Michigan blows, well, in my opinion. As a kid in the 60's, stores had little to offer by way of neat gifts during February. Typically, I got things only enjoyable during warm months.
"Sure son, go on out in the blizzard and play with that plastic airplane." Ten minutes later I'm back inside to dump the shattered pieces of the thing in the trash, then I go grab one of 5 bottles of Avon aftershave I also got as gifts and splash some on my 9 year old face. "Yeehaw, livin' it up," I'd think sarcastically. Funny, is it not? And the symbolism isn't lost on me, a crashed plane and its fragments equaling a rather broken sense of self worth and reason to be alive. Maybe memories of crappy birthdays lent to my mood over the years, that and what later became know as Seasonal Affective Disorder. Nah, it's worse (or better?) than that.
You see, when we're conceived, a brochure doesn't magically appear to provide a detailed overview of our essence, the foundational stuff that will more or less define and identify us. My folks, back then anyway, had no clue I was highly sensitive, had autism spectrum tendencies, and was given to deep intuitiveness. They didn't know the extent of influence their choices and environment were having on my development. I tell ya what, I would have chafed at parenting a kid like me. Sheesh. I digress.
Ever heard of Anniversary Effect? I didn't either until a super great, internal medicine doctor enlightened me. Not willing to diagnose me as a hypochondriac out of hand, he dug deeper and suggested it as a possibly. Yup, nailed it. It explained why every year I'd experience an array of tested and proved physical symptoms, ones being manifested as a result of unconscious and internal stress.
(Learn more about Anniversary Effect here www.psychologytoday.com/blog/two-takes-depression/201105/the-anniversary-effect)
After doing some intuitive work on myself, a memory came to mind of when my mother shared by birth story with me. Here's my paraphrase of her account.
"I thought I'd die giving birth to you. You were a good sized baby and me being 46 at the time, I only had enough strength to get your head out. They had to use the salad tongs on ya." [
Sure, Ma, no chance of this altering my brain.]
"Anyway, your dad was beside himself with joy at you being a boy when he
had resigned himself to a girl. I loved him and wanted to give him a
baby even though I'd already had six kids by my first husband who died.
Okay, so he was supposed to return in a few days to take you and me
home. Thing is, him being a heavy drinker and all, he not only came to
the hospital drunk, he came during the worse snowstorm of the season."
(Continued)
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