Another Spin Around the Sun
On birthdays and September joys and sorrows.
September has always felt like the unofficial start of a new year for me. A post-summer reset, a figurative return to regularly scheduled programming (and a literal one, back in the days before streaming!), and a chance to refocus and finish out the calendar year strong. It also happens to be my birth month- the beginning of a new revolution around the sun and a chance to ponder all of the possibilities of a new age. And although I was raised in South Florida where the seasonal transition consists of going from summer to, well, more summer, at least in terms of the weather, I was always excited for the new school year, eager to see my friends and to take another step closer to being a grown-up (particularly appealing to me as a forever old-soul and the youngest of four).
But September has also become a very loaded month for me. Because besides being the month I (and my late father) came into the world, it’s also the month my mother left it. And then there’s the fact that the day after my birthday is also the day that the world as we knew it changed forever on a crisp, clear New York City morning in 2001. It’s hard to describe the range of emotions I feel on those days, going from a celebratory heart to one that invariably breaks in a span of 24 hours, even all of these years later.
That horrible day is imprinted deeply. I was living in Chelsea at the time, less than 3 miles north of the World Trade Center, and can still remember it and the long aftermath in vivid detail. The sights. The smells. The photos of the missing (one of them was my 26 year old cousin). The bomb scares and evacuations. All of it. The following year I left the city and moved across the river to be a step-mom; when the nest emptied and I moved back, I found myself in an apartment with a window that looked out onto the memorial site, a daily reminder of the precarity of life and of the imperative to really live it.
But living it means different things to different people. For some, the idea of letting a birthday pass without a big party, a birthday week (or month!), is unthinkable. I do not fall into that camp.
I was never a big birthday person, although I have many happy memories of childhood pool parties and shared birthday cakes with my dad. Maybe I’m scarred from the bucket of beer that was poured over my head (and my freshly curled hair) when the clock struck 12 on my 21st LOL, but I never felt compelled to have the kind of amazing blow out parties people throw to mark the big ones, instead choosing to keep things mostly small and intimate.
I used to think a lot about the why- why wouldn’t I want to celebrate myself big, especially seeing up close and personal how quickly it can all just end? Honestly, I used to feel like there might be something wrong with me- a design flaw of sorts- especially seeing how much others enjoyed these things. Did I not feel worthy? Was it my desire for perfectionism that dissuaded me, knowing I would 1- run myself ragged attending to every last detail, and 2- worry so much about whether people were having fun that I wouldn’t have any? I think the latter definitely played a part (thank goodness so much of that has fallen away), but also, I began to realize as I got older that the ways in which we choose to celebrate- the things we find meaningful- are just very personal.
It also took me a long time to understand, despite multiple Myers Briggs assessments, that I am not the extrovert I grew up thinking I was. Instead, I have learned over the years that I am more of an ambivert, most simply defined as an outgoing introvert. For me, this means that depending on my mood, the idea of being the center of attention or surrounded by a crowd can feel pretty daunting. Coming to this realization sometime in my 40s felt like a major breakthrough, and explained why I never wanted to don a glittery birthday tiara!
Still, tiara or not, with age I’ve gotten more comfortable taking up space, no longer shrinking or contorting myself to fit into places that don’t fit me. Last year at 55, with no overthinking, I threw a small impromptu-ish party and enjoyed every minute of it, allowing myself to just be- present, loved, and grateful. No perfection, just a lot of love.
This year, I’m opting for a quiet night with my husband and my step-son- just me and my special people. And I’ll be reflecting, thinking about all of the road I’ve covered this past year; the twists and turns, the healing, and the learning. I’ll look ahead with intention and hope. I’ll probably feel a little wistful about the lightning-speed passage of time, I’ll grapple some with my aging face and whether to play whack a mole with my dermatologist, and I’ll feel the deep loss of my mom and her annual midnight HBD text. Mostly though, I’ll just feel grateful. Grateful for another year, grateful for the growth, and grateful to know that it is possible to hold both the joys and sorrows of September...
It’s nice to be back after a couple of weeks away! In the spirit of September and new beginnings, I’ve been thinking a lot about this space and how I show up here. Up to this point I’ve been dropping in weekly, and I’ll continue to write and share but it may be a tad less regular as I direct my energy to the manuscript for the book project I mentioned here recently. I can’t wait to tell you more about it! In the meantime, thank you from the bottom of my heart for being here- I’m grateful to each and every one of you who take the time to read, comment, share and/or ❤️ these little labors of love! Dina xx
THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL. Thank you. Grateful to have the gift of you! And I will add, as a LEo/extrovert, I am missing the birthday part gene. I opted to eat Italian subs on the couch with Jim while binging Presumed Innocent, no matter how much he attempted to persuade me otherwise.
A most lovely, heartfelt and thoughtful essay Dina. Thank you for opening yourself up here and sharing these bits and pieces ;)