Stressor Talk 1: Birthdays

(Note: I was going to call this "Trigger Talk" and make it alliterate perfectly, but it seems that I actually did not know the difference between a trigger and a stressor. Here are the definitions I'm going by, please feel free to correct if I'm wrong: trigger = something that will cue a flashback to a specific traumatic event; stressor = something that will activate the internal stress response)

I have a handful of stressors, some of which make sense to me and some of which don't. Unfortunately, I'm very bad at handling stress, so I figured this could perhaps be a way for me to figure out how my mind works.

Today's topic is my birthday. I used to love it when I was a child; it always coincided with the first week of school, so it was two of my favorite things rolled into one! It made me feel special, especially because I was nearly always the oldest in the grade. I could never wait for it; I'd mark down the days in eager anticipation of getting attention.

I think my attitude toward it really changed in fourth grade, when it fell on the first day of school. My teacher that year was just plain mean* and let us know it that day. There was a lot of yelling and a lot of falsified expressions on my part (you know, where you have to look like you fucked up and you're sorry when in reality, you don't give a damn and you just want to get back to reading your book under the table). Now, I don't do well with yelling; it makes me shut down and do nothing other than play 2048 or read or listen to metal music way too loudly. So you can imagine that this was not a fun year, and I knew it wouldn't be on the one day out of 365 that mattered.

Fifth grade was better, because it was three days into the year and already I adored my teacher. She's still my favorite, because she was witty and sarcastic and supported my writing. I got to go to the American Girl store and pick out new things for myself (because I also hate surprises) and play dolls. Life seemed good.

I believe the reason I dislike my birthday so much is because of an event that happened in sixth grade. It sounds incredibly petty, but the first day (a Tuesday), one of my best friends announced to the class, "Hey, [Matt's] birthday is on Friday, you guys should make [him] a card." No one did. No one remembered at all. I had even put in the right birthday on a social media profile (the kind with the feature that tells you to wish your friend a happy birthday). I'd checked my friends' birthdays all year and always wrote them positive messages, but no one could do the same for me. It happened nearly the exact same way in seventh grade, and will probably happen again in eighth.

I also have a track record of horrible birthday parties that I won't even get into; I've been working on blocking those memories for the past seven years and am to the point where I barely even think about them anymore, except for this time of the year.

My idea of a good birthday this year? Being allowed to keep to myself the entire day, absolutely unperturbed by the outside world. I'd read a good book or two, work on a chapter in the novel, and stay up till daybreak. There's no way that'll happen, but it's a dream of mine for the future.

* - no, I don't mean strict; all my favorite teachers have been pretty strict, but this woman just was not nice. She'd chew you out in front of the class if you messed anything up, loudly; she'd slam doors and throw temper tantrums all the time; just overall unpleasant to be in a classroom with.