Why Christmas Birthdays Suck

Yes, this is going to be mostly a "woe is me" piece.  Deal with it, get over it or just stop reading...that simple.  My birthday was the 25th.  Yes, Christmas day.  Do you know what people usually say when they find out that's my birthday?  They usually say, "Man, that sucks" or some other variation of that same sentiment.  I usually smile and say politely that it's not so bad.  I have never been called to work on my birthday and usually the family is all here because everyone is "home for Christmas".  Then they add something like, "I bet you get screwed on presents" and I'm like, it's not about the presents man, it's about the people I care about in my life being here for me.  And that's the truth.  I couldn't care less (yes, that's the proper way to say that phrase) about presents.  Maybe as a child I would get a little upset and point out how unfair it all is to get ONE birthday/Christmas gift from some relatives but as an adult, gifts are unimportant to me.

But this is why having a Christmas birthday sucks.  It's not my day.  This day is reserved for family and Jesus.  As a kid (from 5 years old until 18), I remember exactly three birthday parties.  Fifth grade I actually had friends show up because we did it early.  Sixth grade, only two people showed up.  And my 16th birthday was a surprise party (I stopped asking to have parties after 6th grade because I was crushed that no one showed up) and some kids did show up for that one (again, we had to do it weeks early).  Imagine being 11 and only two people show up to your birthday...yeah, it was enough to make me stop trying.  It hurt, because my siblings would have parties and all these kids would show up.  Not mine.

Christmas, not just the actual day, but the entire "season", is reserved for families.  People travel to see family.  If you are not going somewhere to see someone, most likely someone is traveling to see you.  Which means everything and everyone else loses precedence.  It turns into, "I can't because I have family here" or "I can't because I'm going to see family."

I'm not hating on people seeing their families.  Family is very important and I understand that sometimes Christmas is the ONLY time we get to see some of our families.

Here's my gripe, and yes, I felt hurt over this.  No one bothered to pick up the phone to wish me a happy birthday (except my mom's parents who called and sang to me...I love that tradition).  No one bothered to send a card.  No one bothered to even stop by the house to give me a hug.  I got...text messages and Facebook posts.  Call me ungrateful I suppose.  ALL these people that call me their friend and that LOVE me so much couldn't even bother to do more than punch out a few letters on a screen.

My birthday is not my day.  No one took me out, no one bought me a drink, no one asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday.  I ate dinner alone.  Yes, I tried to contact some of my "friends" but, guess what..."I'm going to my family's for dinner" and "I'm heading to my family's house so you can't really come over".  I felt like crap.  "Well, what about the day AFTER?  Surely your friends found time the NEXT day!"  Nope, no text messages, no phone calls, no Facebook...nothing.

So there's why I hate my birthday.  Gotta put my pretend face back on and go to work tomorrow and smile and joke and tell everyone how WONDERFUL my day was!  I hate being fake so I'll probably just tell everyone that my day sucked and that's the end of it.

Oh, and the card in the photo above was sent to me by my fiend Dash.  Aha! you might say.  A friend DID send you a card!  Dash is in prison, he made that card by hand...BY HAND...and sent it to me for my birthday...and he even called me on Christmas to wish me a happy birthday...from prison.  That's a true friend.  Later days.