Are You Able to Create a Birthday You Actually Enjoy?
39 Years Old, 5.5 years sober, 1.5 years Actually Autistic, and I finally nailed it.
Enjoying a birthday sounds simple, but historically I’ve found it hard. There have been years where I’ve worried about ageing, years where I haven’t wanted to ‘make a fuss’, years where I’ve been flat out depressed (without realising). There have been years I organised things that weren’t to my own tastes. Years I got too drunk. Years I fought with my boyfriend.
It strikes me that to organise a successful birthday for yourself and enjoy it you need to have learned some difficult lessons. (Well, I did anyway.) And there’s one crucial thing in particular, that you need, something not easy to come by. Can you guess what I’m talking about?
My last birthday as a drinker in 2016 was, for me, a disaster (though my friends had fun, apparently, so that’s nice). I got upset with my partner because he hadn’t bought me a present (he took me shopping for one instead) and the flat was a mess, and we had no nice food in. I was so peeved by lunchtime that I started drinking to try and shift into a better vibe, though I knew by now that was a bad idea for us.
Later on, my friends came over, and we headed out for dinner, and the food wasn’t good, and that made me so anxious and upset, like the quality of the menu was my fault. We went out dancing, though I was ready for bed because I still believed nights out had to be lively that way (and looong) to be successful. We tried different bars and then walked for ages into a whole different neighbourhood.
My beloved drank so much he needed help to walk home, and I felt embarrassed and stressed. I was nearing my mid-thirties, and somehow still having the same nights out as my early-twenties, and I felt trapped.
Walking home with my lovely friends, I wondered how I could possibly improve my life, when even the good times didn’t feel good to me anymore. And yet, if you saw photos of that night - if anyone took any - I bet I was beaming. Because I loved my friends, and there were some laughs along the way, I was doing the very best I could to have a good time.
The problem was that I didn’t know how to organise the kind of birthday I would actually enjoy because I didn’t know myself.
Six weeks after that I quit drinking for good.
Yesterday was my fifth birthday in sobriety and my second since I have been diagnosed autistic, and it was very different. Glorious, in fact. I realised that for me to have such a truly joyous birthday I had to learn five important lessons.
Drinking makes my life worse
This was a biggie. And it took me over two decades to learn. I’ve written thousands of words about this, and its the whole reason d’être of Beautiful Hangover so you’re likely familiar with my story around this. If not, check out the archives. ðŸ¤
I need to rest often, especially after anything social, AND THAT’S OKAY
Birthday morning my partner and I had a cuppa and went for a walk with one of our best friends. Afterwards, I was exhausted, no spoons left, and I was worried I’d ransacked my social energy before I’d even begun. But it was okay, because I knew what to do. I changed into soft clothes and went back to bed with earplugs and a blackout mask. I cuddled the cat for maybe two hours, and then I was ready to try again. My friend came over and we ate cheese and watched a film, and all was well.
Nights out don’t have to be fun and exciting and wild. Or even long
I didn’t get dressed up, because I couldn’t be bothered (another small victory) and we were all fashionably early for our table at 7, which I think is the sweetest detail ever. I love that these days my friends and I are cool like that. We drank some nice drinks, ate some excellent pizza, took some photos, and talked and laughed. After dinner, we went home, and by 21:30 I was back in my pyjamas and ready to really get this party started (aka watch a show before falling sleep).
I don’t have to be ‘on good form’ or be entertaining to go out with my friends
It just so happens that I was on good form Saturday night (imho) but if I hadn’t have been I would have gone out anyway. And I’d have admitted I felt sad or low or tired. And I’d have eaten pizza and spent time with my friends, and no doubt had some laughs, and then gone home. Because I don’t have to be entertaining to be with people. Being sad or tired or low doesn’t make me a drag, it makes me human. Thank god I finally know that.
It’s not my responsibility whether other people have a good time
I really want people to have a good time. It’s weird how much I care about it. I want them to be happy because that reflects well on me, and makes my life easier. This is a normal desire, but it can get me into trouble. Mindreading and people pleasing and abandoning myself in attempts to charm others. And worst of all, never actually enjoying the moment and relaxing into myself.
These days, I still try and do what I can to contribute to a good time, whenever I have it in me. But if people don’t have a good time or if things go wrong or feel awkward, then I understand it’s not my fault. (Generally.) And even the times I am actually responsible for someone not having a good time, it’s okay. Nobody’s perfect, right? And maybe I learn something useful along the way of living through the discord.
Turns out, when you stop worrying so much about whether people are having a nice time, everyone tends to have a nicer time.
Getting sober and getting a diagnosis (autism and ADHD baby!) has taught me to have self-acceptance. This is the magic sauce for actually enjoying things and authentically connecting. Gradually, I have worked out what I actually like, how my energy works, and who makes me feel accepted and valued for who I am when I’m not pretending. I no longer feel pulled to create the kind of birthday occasions I think I ought to enjoy. And I’ve got enough self-esteem to be able to ‘make a fuss’, i.e. book a table somewhere nice/send out a group message.
Being sober made room for me to better understand how my brain works, and this newfound, ever-growing self-acceptance is allowing me to celebrate and enjoy getting older in a way I wasn’t able to for many years, and I’m sincerely grateful.
Before my diagnosis, I found it difficult to admit how much rest I needed. I was ashamed and disappointed in my koala-like tendencies. I drank to override them (which still resulted in me falling asleep, very often) and felt inadequate over how much I loved to be alone. It was hard work to fight my nature! It’s relaxing just to accept it, instead.
Being able to create an enjoyable birthday for yourself sounds simple, but for some of us, it isn’t. It entails self-acceptance, self-knowledge and self-esteem. So I’m dorkily happy to have finally worked it out. I wonder, have you sussed it also? And how long did it take?
One true yes and one true no for authenticity
This quest got lost under All the Things I Have to Do and also felt a bit self-indulgent as the main course of the newsletter, so I’m going to bring it back as a segment instead. I certainly noticed a downturn in my ability to say NO without this directive. Here’s a reminder of the quest, ICYMI.
People pleasing is horribly comfortable for me, so extra inspiration to say NO WAY, MAN! is sincerely welcome. Essential, in fact.
This week I continue to say NO WAY to anticipatory anxiety around not knowing what will happen in the writing workshops I teach. It’s okay not to know how the session will go. It would be freakish (and awesome) if I could predict that. Instead, I accept the uncertainty. And the discomfort of uncertainty. Which I believe is amplified by my high sensitivity/autistic soul. Teaching is basically a shared improv session, and all I have to do is breathe, stay present and try to connect with my students. Oh, and keep hold of my sense of humour.
Oh, and remember the golden rule of improv is Yes and…
I will look out for more NOs because they feel really good. More on that, soon.
I also continue to say YES to daily naps as necessary. (Though I keep forgetting this agreement, and shaming myself for needing to rest. So I restate YES to naps.)
How are your YESs and NOs coming along. Do you have a story to share with me?
You can connect with the Autistic community on Twitter. If you have a question, use #ActuallyAutistic or #AskingAutistics (or both). You can also visit The Autism Self Advocacy Network and the Autistic Not Weird Facebook page and website.
Chelsey Flood is the author of Infinite Sky and Nightwanderers, and a senior lecturer in creative writing at UWE University. She writes about freedom, addiction, nature and love at Beautiful Hangover, and autism and self-compassion at Polite Robot, both of which you can subscribe (or unsubscribe) to within this newsletter. She is currently working on a memoir and a YA novel.
I wish I’d read this a while back. Might have avoided decades of crap birthdays.
I haven’t cracked it yet. I’m still drinking. Less at the moment, but still drinking.