From Dread to Delight: A Birthday Reflection on Self-Worth
A Trauma-Informed Reflection on Birthday Worthiness
For years, birthdays felt like a spotlight I didn’t want to stand under. I felt discomfort at the thought of someone wishing me a happy birthday, gifting me a present, or trying to make the day ‘about me.’
The idea of celebrating myself felt uncomfortable, and, upon reflection, even undeserved. My inner critic would say things like:
“I’m nothing special.”
“What is no one else celebrates me.”
“I don’t want the attention.”
These weren’t just passing thoughts. They were echoes of old wounds; shaped by experiences that taught me to shrink, to defer, to disappear.
And yet, somewhere deep inside, I longed to feel seen. (I mean, come on… we all do).
I guarantee for most of us, including myself, it isn’t for accolades or applause, but for the quiet truth that “I matter.” Feeling unseen was a pattern I always struggled with.
This Year, Something Shifted
Last week while journaling, I found myself pondering the questions…
What if celebration isn’t about ego, but about embodiment?
What if honoring my birthday is a way of honoring the life I’ve fought to live—the healing I’ve chosen, the boundaries I’ve built, the softness I’ve claimed?
So, I wrote myself a new kind of invitation. And this time it was to a practice, not a party. The invitation was to tell myself something kind.
So, I wrote,
I chose to celebrate 36 not with fanfare, but with intention.
I let myself be witnessed.
I let joy in.
I let the old stories loosen their grip.
Celebration as Resistance
What do ya know - in doing so, I discovered something powerful:
Celebration can be a trauma-informed act of resistance.
It says:
“I am worthy of being here.”
“My existence is enough.”
“I choose to honor myself, even if no one else does.”
So, if you’ve ever felt like birthdays are too much, or not enough—
If you’ve ever whispered those same doubts—
I invite you to begin with one kind thing.
One truth.
One moment of self-recognition.
Because you are worth celebrating.
Not just on your birthday.
But every single day you choose to show up.
You don’t need a cake or candles to honor your existence.
You just need a moment of truth.
A breath of compassion.