It was my birthday recently.
I woke up early, wide awake.
Something was wrong.
I was wrong.
I felt super shitty about myself.
It was like I was wearing a feelings fur coat and feelings PETA had drenched it in dread and shame.
*
I stepped outside.
I walked up to my office and meditated.
Both those helped.
Ten seconds afterward, though, I felt the same way.
*
I came back downstairs.
Crissie was there.
She smiled.
“Happy birthday!” she said. “I love you!”
*
This was quite a provocation.
“Happy birthday”?
“I love you”??
How dare she???
I was / was feeling super shitty!
*
At this moment something occurred to me.
I had a choice.
I could tell Crissie how bad I felt about myself.
She would have to listen and be super sympathetic because it was my birthday.
It would be my present.
Crissie listening and saying: “Oh! I’m so sorry!”
But then also: “No, no—you’re not shitty at all!”
And then: “You’re the opposite of shitty.”
And then: “You’re great.”
Until finally: “You’re the greatest.”
*
Alternatively, I could take a breath.
I could smile back.
I could accept her love.
I could have a happy birthday.
*
This was my choice.
*
I debated it.
On the one hand, it seemed like despairing aloud was the clear best option.
I had this one precious day where I’d probably get a total pass for feeling however I wanted.
Did I want to waste that being happy?
What if I felt miserable tomorrow?
Crissie might not be, like, “Too bad, buddy—it’s not your birthday anymore, is it?”
But she’d almost certainly say, “I’m sorry but I have to go to work.”
Feeling shitty on my birthday was like a coupon I could redeem for feeling shitty all day.
It’s not that I wanted to feel shitty all day.
But I didn’t want to waste the coupon either.
*
Crissie waited.
I tensed a moment longer.
Then I caved.
“Thanks,” I said.
I decided to try things her way.
Second by second, the dread/shame coat lightened.
Little by little, the shitty coupon loosened in my hand.
Jeremy, Thanks for sharing these. I find myself smiling every time I see your notifications in my inbox.