It’s that time of year again.
And no, I’m not talking about Christmas. It’s, by the way, a terrible invention that all the Christmas galore starts before the biggest event of the year, being my birthday of course. Someone should put a stop to this. Seriously, quit all your Christmas prepping and for a minute focus on the fact that this gal’s birthday rolls around in exactly one month (everyone: mark the 25th November in your calendars, I’m forcing you to) and she hasn’t put together any sort of epic event or put up an entire Pinterest board full of cake, dresses and glitter yet, solely dedicated to the purpose of planning the celebrations of the 23rd year of my life.
As worldshocking as it may seem to me, your indifference to this information might have just skyrocketed — if my people skills don’t fail me, that is. The reason why this is such a major concern, is that I usually start planning my birthday about three months ahead. Like the absolute crazy person that I am. I’m not joking. Ask my friends. And if we’re being completely honest here, the ugly truth is that exact process repeats itself with every little detail in my life. I constantly feel overwhelmed by the anxious ball of chaos that is my everyday life, and so I desperately try to get a grip by making everything fit in a neat schedule, a detailed actionplan. With the empasis on try. I obviously fail about a good 95% of the time. And yet I try to grasp every little bit of security I can get my hands on, forcefully sometimes, which mostly results in frustration over unattainable high expectations. Feeling the need to be in control in every possible situation is a way of survival for me, and a way only few people truly understand. Especially when living in a new, digital age where inconsistency rules as king, connections are more fleeting than the cheap ass perfume I owned in 9th grade, plans constantly change or
are never fully made in the first place and communcation has become so fickle I feel we’re living in the stone age again — hey, maybe smoke signals can become a viable option again, perhaps I can get an answer back sooner that way, putting this on my to-try-out list and will get back to you on that. Seriously though. If Trump wants to build a wall, by all means, but let him build a wall to seperate the people who text back from the ones who don’t. Can I get an amen?
So do I come across as the needy psycho stalker ex-girlfriend when asking for clarity about 27 times when exactly Friday girlsnight drinks start, where we’re going, who will be there, what everyone will be wearing and which/how many drinks they think they’re planning to go for? Perhaps. Probably. Do I drive literally everyone in my life crazy when I text them the same question five times in a row? Perhaps. Probably. Would I have a billion dollars if I’d get a dollar every time someone called me psycho? Most definitely. But will I be the queen who is always prepared as hell? Fuck yes.
This is all greatly exaggerated of course, ehem. You see, I do absolutely love surprises but I get anxious about last-minute changes. I love last-minute plans but hate the quick decisions that follow after (actually on second thought: don’t invite me anywhere last minute, I enjoy doing nothing so I need to know ahead of time if my plan to do nothing needs to be changed. I kid of course. haha). I love the thrill of the unknown and adventure, but hate the insecurity that comes with it. The contradictions are exhausting.
And the funny thing about life, if you haven’t noticed already, is that it’s pretty un-plannable. Again, the contradiciton. Joke’s on me now, isn’t it. (I actually expected someone to yell “plot twist” at this point). It is something I am more aware of than anything in my life, and something I am learning to control, as crazy as controlling the urge to control may sound. At this point, I’m starting to feel like a walking enigma consisting only of contradicitons so I’m just quietly going to move forward with the actual conclusion I was getting at.
In light of the lessons I’ve taught myself this year and the major personal growth I’m going through, I am refusing to plan anything consistent around all things birthday
and ignoring Pinterest alltogether. If 2016 was the year of realizing things — I thank the great Kylie Jenner for this grand wisdom — then I’m making 2017 the year of letting go and subsequently planning my 23rd lifeyear around this theme.
Maybe the end of November will see me throwing a big house party with all the tequila, pink birthday cake, loud music, fireworks and a chocolate fountain. Maybe I will spend my birthday weekend alone, in bed, treating myself to an overload of wardrobe ‘essentials’, stuffing my face with all the food my heart — and stomach — desires and dancing in my underwear at 2AM, watching the stars underneath a blanket with a cup of tea. Or maybe I will spontaneously hop on a plane to Ibiza. Barcelona. Bali. Or California. Maybe to ride off into the sunset and never looking back.
But who knows, life is not for planning. (But … maybe someone order the balloons already, you know, just in case …)