I just never decided to have them, same as I never decided to become a skydiver, a scientist, or a gardener. Here are some of my favorite things to do alone on my birthday: Donate to a non-profit. My family and I are okay, but I didn’t have a happy childhood. I never wanted to go out, I never wanted to be with people, I never wanted to have fun.I still don’t. Call me crazy, but I'm happy to live without technology (wait, you can't call — my phone is dead!) And when your birthday comes it all seems to come afloat. Or a pet shelter! I would have gotten away with it too, if it weren't for that meddling Facebook!Hide your birth date on facebook, then you won't get a ton of people writing a meaningless "Happy Birthday" on your wall.New comments cannot be posted and votes cannot be castr/AskReddit is the place to ask and answer thought-provoking questions.Press J to jump to the feed. From all accounts I'm feeling like John Candy in a wonderful scene in Planes, Trains and Automobiles when he confronts a hostile Steve Martin with a heartfelt “I like me.”In fact, the whole notion that this was a decision for me feel somehow backwards. I’d rather do that than give in to solemnity and nostalgia for the lost ones although they and the moments I’d shared with them were special too.
I don't even like my friends knowing when my birthday is! I'm going first-person in this entry because this is a personal rant that I don't want ascribed to any of my RCPU colleagues. Once I decided I wasn't a fuck up anymore, that all changed.This. Here's why you should be, too.Dana McMahan says she didn't decide to not have kids. I'll be 45 and massively in debt without any retirement fund. Let me know how it goes.New comments cannot be posted and votes cannot be castA mutually supportive community where deeply emotional things you can't tell people you know can be told.
Nothing much I had to do there, so why am It probably started because people died so young years ago. Medically Reviewed By: Patricia Corlew , LMFT, LPC, Birthdays are synonymous with cake, cards, presents, and parties. I don't know exactly why, but I highly dislike celebrating my own birthday. I've spent a great deal of emotional energy caring what people think, trying to justify my (non) decision, and wishing people would understand.
Yes, I'd been watching Ranger hockey and Wimbledon all that time in standard definition. but... sober online shopping. Today its mostly just a reason to eat cake and get gifts.I'm the same why, if someone wants to do something i'm alright with it...i just hate the expectation that I'm going to want to go nuts. I don't like the attention, I suppose, and I don't accept gifts well. )The winner of the comment that raises my blood pressure the most is this one: "But you'd feel differently if it were your own!" I can’t afford to be off work, but when I’m there, I don’t talk to anyone.
I hate my fucking birthday. 5 Reasons Why I Hate Twitter. I stay late to avoid the anxious, hectic commute, and to avoid having to do anything besides drink myself to sleep the second I walk back through the door.For one week out of the year, my attention is forcefully, unwittingly drawn to all my failures, all my flaws, all my shortcomings. With every birthday through my late 30s and into my 40s there's been a growing relief. Is motherhood such bliss that they just want me to revel in it too? I'm feeling like John Candy in a wonderful scene in Planes, Trains and Automobiles when he confronts a hostile Steve Martin with a heartfelt “I like me.”I like my life. People hate jojo siwa because she got her fame from being a brat. They're supposed to be a good time; after all, when birthdays are portrayed in books and movies, they are seen as a time to celebrate, be with loved ones, and have fun, without a care in the world.
before i start getting lonely-wasted.I hear you and I appreciate the honesty. Because then we move on. I can’t imagine why you’d stay so long after knowing this.” “I really do dislike my husband. My heart was torn in two. Until I turned 18, and got 2 phonecalls and a few fb messages as presents. Then I went through some hard shit, eating disorder, depression, etc. But frankly, I'd rather chew tin foil than figure out this app — or any other. In a word: uncertainty. Maybe not anything, cause that might be unrealistic. I claw at my own skin in hopes that there’s a better person underneath all this shit, and then claw again to punish myself for believing that I could be anything other than worthless. She just never decided to have them. I choose to feel not guilty, but grateful — grateful that I've had the ability to prevent an unwanted pregnancy, grateful to be married to someone who didn't run away at my first date proclamation that I didn't want kids, and grateful for this life.