Celebrating my Birthday for the First Time (at 55 Years Old!)

Celebrating birthdays is one thing I struggle a lot with. This all changed yesterday.

During the years I was married to my abuser, my birthdays were either insignificant or a source of tension. Twenty-one years of marriage and these are the two instances that define my birthday

• The year I got yelled at terribly because I got home from work late and made him late for meeting up with the guys. Remembering the words almost 20 years later demonstrates how painful they were. 
• The year my innocent 3-year-old bought me the ugliest, I mean truly ugly, sweatsuit from the low budget store in town. I can still picture the lime green top and bottom; and if that didn’t sting enough, my abuser insisted I wear it for multiple weekends to show our son how much I liked it. Picture an apple green Barney and you’ll see a picture of me.

Abuse Recovery - Celebrating

During the years of being a single mom, my kid’s birthdays tended to come with extra things to do, budget constraints, and my sheer exhaustion. Sometimes it was so hard to pull together the energy and money to be supportive especially since the value of celebrating a birthday had been stripped from me.

My current husband always made a big deal out of his children’s birthdays. His parents make a big deal out of all the children and grandchildren’s birthdays. So, by default, I started getting exposed to the idea of celebrating someone’s birthday. The events seemed like an excuse to gather, but the significance was always lost to me. 

Last night my three children and husband took me to Cracker Barrel for dinner to celebrate my birthday. This was after all my new-found Facebook friends I have met during the past few months wished me a happy birthday on Facebook. Additionally, people from work were calling or texting me Happy Birthday. What was going on?

The love I felt being with my children and husband made me start to cry. They were really in the moment just to show their love and support for everything that I had done for them and with them. We laughed, joked, and reminisced about some funny memories. 

My children and husband gathered around to celebrate me. Co-workers and friends valued my time with them. Overwhelming to say the least. 

As I was getting ready for bed, the quiet voice in my head reminded me that God loves me and that I am important to Him. The quiet voice reminded me that it is for His glory that I was born. I realized there was a reason to acknowledge the day I was born so many years ago. 

The best birthday gift of all? Stripping away my abuser’s power over me during all the remainder birthdays I have left. I look forward to celebrating in 364 days!!