My Hatch Day (birthday to most of you) was December 27th. I hate it. Hate it a lot. Someone asked me today why I despise it so much. Well really the simple answer is I can count on my hands out of 31 of these occurrences that have been pleasurable to me. But that’s the simple brush off answer. Not a lie, but not everything.
There is the thorn in my side that I’ve never had a birthday party on my Hatch Day itself, nor have I ever had one that wasn’t just family. No one has the energy to do anything two days after Christmas. I can’t blame them. Everyone is crashing. Weather is often questionable. So it’s this just ug time of year. You also have everyone gearing up for New Year’s Eve. So it’s just a dismal time for everyone to do anything.
With that there is also this weird random occurrence that no matter how hard I try to have a good day something implodes. This previous birthday was no different. So I have to take care of that issue. This is a repeated event and always is so random but happens like clockwork. When it happens, be it in person, a phone call, text message, or e-mail I just accept it and start dealing.
Along the same lines that day has always been about other people. The only time it has ever been about me are the two I had by myself. One of which was completely awesome. It just always turns into a day about others so I gave up trying. But most importantly it is a day I weigh myself on my scales of judgement.
No one else is judged on those scales. They are reserved for me alone. The naked and harsh truth of my being is placed on them for judgement. I take a moment to look back over all the years and judge myself on the entire span. I’ve been told the standards I hold myself are too high, too tough, too rigid… This is all probably true, but I have to. I have to always hold myself at a higher standard. I will pick everyone else up and I will pick myself up. But I fall short.
No… Short is far from the word. I am still in the canyon waiting to climb. I’m still at the starting line waiting to punch the pedal. Oh people would tell me that I’ve accomplished more than most. This may or may not be true. I don’t compare myself to the goals, accomplishments, and aspirations of others. I challenge myself to my standards. It is exhausting and some years it even breaks me.
I know it would be healthier if I just stopped doing that…. But I have to hold myself to higher standards. I have to hold myself to point that I may never achieve. If I don’t I’m likely to just die. If I don’t drive myself so hard I will give up and let myself cease to be. I know. I’ve been there. My drive evaporated away like a pot of water that was forgotten on the stove.
When this occurs a slow wither and death starts. That withering leads to other terrible things. Things that I don’t care for. Things that harm people. Things that consume. So I hold myself to a standard that may be impossible. That may condemn me to a miserable day of judgement every year.
So that’s that. That is why I despise the day of my hatching. It comes once a year and it leaves me beaten each year and curled up on the ground having to force myself up again. I have to make myself stand and place my hands and feet on the stone wall and try again. And I will fall and fall over and over again but that self judgement keeps me alive and sometimes, not necessarily this year, you wake up and all you have is your life.