Case
Well-known member
Why do I treat "attention" sometimes as if it were going to kill me?
My birthday is in a few days. Unlike most people, I don't celebrate it. Instead, I run from it. I avoid it. I've avoided it as much as I can all my life, telling people not to give me presents, or making sure that no one is preparing a surprise for me.
It's been a life of exhaustion, and I'm tired.
I haven't celebrated my birthday with a group of people since I was a child, mostly due to the painful anxieties associated with being the center of attention. My earliest memory of having a birthday was when I was probably four years old when my Dad wanted to get a photo of me mashing my hands into the cake and smearing my face with the contents. I wouldn't do it. He raised his voice at me. I still wouldn't do it, and I started to cry. He stomped away angrily, thus beginning a lifetime of not trusting my father with my own well-being. Ever since, I became very shy, inward, and perhaps, I expected every birthday to involve crying.
As an adult, I have a complex about it. Every year, I have to deal with coworkers who wish to celebrate my birthday, and every year, I get anxious and I tell them no. I tell them that I don't celebrate my birthday, and they always honor my requests. In reality, I am avoiding the pain of being "seen," when I feel more comfortable being unseen, of flying under the radar, of slipping past unnoticed, of escaping into solitude.
And then, the ultimate contradiction comes when I suddenly wonder why I don't have the kind of social life I want. lol
This was all prompted because a friend of mine wanted to host a dinner for my birthday this week. She texted and CC'd a few other people on this, so I knew it would be a larger group than I've ever had for my birthday. Normally, I have told people "Thanks, but no thanks," but this time, it's complicated because I don't want things being awkward between me and this group of very good people.
But when I got her text, a wave of anxiety flooded over me. Panic, even. The thought of having to fake enjoyment and feeling the burn of a bunch of eyeballs on me as I open up presents, just returns me to when I was four years old, half expecting that I was their little toy to manipulate as they wished, just like my Dad tried to do to me. (I am aware of how unrealistic this emotion is, especially about people who like me, but it happens every year.)
I don't know why I get so panicky when certain kinds of attention are paid to me. In other cases, I am fine. Speeches? I'm all in. Have to do a podcast? Bring it on. But sit me in a chair and have people gush all over me for a few hours? No. Anything but that.
So, why the avoidance? Is it insecurity? Low self-esteem? Is it really my Dad's reaction when I was four years old that implanted this fear in me? I don't know. But it sucks that this has been an annual ritual for so many years now.
Moreover, I'm just tired. I wish birthdays didn't exist. I wish I didn't have to feel this way every single, bloody year.
TL-DR: I have been avoiding my birthdays since I was a child, and everything about them raises my anxieties and makes me unhappy.
My birthday is in a few days. Unlike most people, I don't celebrate it. Instead, I run from it. I avoid it. I've avoided it as much as I can all my life, telling people not to give me presents, or making sure that no one is preparing a surprise for me.
It's been a life of exhaustion, and I'm tired.
I haven't celebrated my birthday with a group of people since I was a child, mostly due to the painful anxieties associated with being the center of attention. My earliest memory of having a birthday was when I was probably four years old when my Dad wanted to get a photo of me mashing my hands into the cake and smearing my face with the contents. I wouldn't do it. He raised his voice at me. I still wouldn't do it, and I started to cry. He stomped away angrily, thus beginning a lifetime of not trusting my father with my own well-being. Ever since, I became very shy, inward, and perhaps, I expected every birthday to involve crying.
As an adult, I have a complex about it. Every year, I have to deal with coworkers who wish to celebrate my birthday, and every year, I get anxious and I tell them no. I tell them that I don't celebrate my birthday, and they always honor my requests. In reality, I am avoiding the pain of being "seen," when I feel more comfortable being unseen, of flying under the radar, of slipping past unnoticed, of escaping into solitude.
And then, the ultimate contradiction comes when I suddenly wonder why I don't have the kind of social life I want. lol
This was all prompted because a friend of mine wanted to host a dinner for my birthday this week. She texted and CC'd a few other people on this, so I knew it would be a larger group than I've ever had for my birthday. Normally, I have told people "Thanks, but no thanks," but this time, it's complicated because I don't want things being awkward between me and this group of very good people.
But when I got her text, a wave of anxiety flooded over me. Panic, even. The thought of having to fake enjoyment and feeling the burn of a bunch of eyeballs on me as I open up presents, just returns me to when I was four years old, half expecting that I was their little toy to manipulate as they wished, just like my Dad tried to do to me. (I am aware of how unrealistic this emotion is, especially about people who like me, but it happens every year.)
I don't know why I get so panicky when certain kinds of attention are paid to me. In other cases, I am fine. Speeches? I'm all in. Have to do a podcast? Bring it on. But sit me in a chair and have people gush all over me for a few hours? No. Anything but that.
So, why the avoidance? Is it insecurity? Low self-esteem? Is it really my Dad's reaction when I was four years old that implanted this fear in me? I don't know. But it sucks that this has been an annual ritual for so many years now.
Moreover, I'm just tired. I wish birthdays didn't exist. I wish I didn't have to feel this way every single, bloody year.
TL-DR: I have been avoiding my birthdays since I was a child, and everything about them raises my anxieties and makes me unhappy.