Every year this damn thing comes around. While everyone loves my birthday because it falls on the 4th of July Holiday, it’s a mixed bag for me. I once loved it, back when I was a kid and I felt like I mattered in the world. Your family makes a big deal about it. For me, I had fireworks shot off every year. So you think it’s a deal. At least until you grow up enough to realize, you don’t matter. You’re really not important. Oh…and the the fireworks, they’re not for you.
I’ve long since cared about (my) birthdays. I don’t even honestly know how old I am anymore. I could do the math, but I don’t want or care to know anymore. Nothing we do lasts. Sure, what we do in the here and now matters, because it affects those in our circle of family and any friends we may have. In the long term….nothing matters. In 100 years, do you think anyone will even remember or know my name in reference to me. Chances are slim to none.
So unless you’re a celebrity, serial killer, mass murderer, inventor of something life changing or some dirty career politician or scum bag who is or was famously known… we will be just another grain of sand in the infinite hour glass of ”life”. Here for a brief second and gone.
Not sure where I was going with all this…
All that to ask, does anyone else feel really suicidal on or around your birthday? Just me?
If you’re in the states or somewhere that celebrates this ”Independence” day, stay safe if you’re out there living it up.
My wife will probably have plans, but I’d honestly just prefer to sleep right through it….
2 comments
My birthday is next month. I appreciate the well wishes it brings but it also marks the start and perpetuation of trauma. I was born prematurely and back then (1957) that meant starvation for the first three to four days of life and plenty of highly painful poking and prodding then and thereafter. While I have no conscious memory of it my body seems to remember it and studies, even then, showed it’s survivors are emotionally affected for life even though the body seems to weather it just fine.
While I am not especially suicide prone on birthdays, I fail to see why it should celebrated as it was the kick off of societally embraced torment and torture for me.
I feel this. My birthday is coming up soon and I’m really dreading it. It’s a yearly reminder that I’m getting older and not improving, stuck in the same damn cycle as the year before. Telling myself this is the year it’ll be over, and then it isn’t.
I’m not sure if advice from another suicidal person is apt right now, but I will say one thing- I find the meaningless comforting. If it only matters to you, then it’s all yours to decide what you find meaningful in it. You don’t need someone else to give you meaning. It’s all relative to what you want, and there’s no higher power there to tell you you’re wrong for it.
. . . What is that meaning? I wouldn’t be on suicideproject.org if I knew. But I’m trying to find it. I hope you’re able to find it too.