'We're going to a party'

It is my birthday this week. I am inching my way towards fourty, but can definitely still claim thirties.

Put thirties.

I never used to understand people who couldn’t remember what age they were off the top of their head. Surely this was something that was automatic? Then, well, the last three years happened and I have to really think about it now.

Maybe that’s a good thing.

You are only as young as you feel, and I feel….put thirties.

Being the youngest of three, attention is something I have craved for pretty much my entire life. If you ask my siblings, they may tell you that I got it in abundance.

If you ask me, well I’m not exactly a reliable witness.

I also never used to understand people who didn’t tell anyone that it was their birthday. Surely you would want to be made a fuss of? To have someone get a cake in or organise a gift voucher. I absolutely wanted this, all of it. To be centre of attention and to be cherished. That does not seem like too much of an ask?

In a former life, I would extend my birthday celebrations out to a week long festival of activities. It was called Richmas (yes, it really was). For a few years it would end with a gig that I would put on and compere, with bands that I liked and friends DJ’ing. They were good times. They were stressful times. They were messy times. I could be good, stressful and messy in equal measure. Ask anyone who knew me then - they are certainly reliable witnesses.

If some of this sounds unhealthy, it was. I could receive 100 happy birthday messages but fixate on the one I didn’t get. If you didn’t have a good reason to not come to my birthday party (I was a grown adult at this stage), then may God help you. I lost friends over this, I am not at all proud to say. I did not have the emotional maturity to deal with certain situations, or indeed a sufficient vocabulary to tell people what it was that I exactly wanted.

To be told that I was cared about.

As my therapist is always so keen to ask me - what were my needs and wants?

This was an issue that I would run up against again and again - how in the hell were people supposed to know what I wanted if I did not explicitly tell them? Why do I expect people to anticipate my needs if I can’t identify them myself?

Why don’t you just know these things about me??

I am (I hope), a lot better at this now. I can actually articulate my needs pretty well. This is no small feat! Perhaps a big part of this can be attributed to the *whispers* Enneagram (we all know I am just going to say the other part is therapy), which my wife’s family are very keen on. You want to hear some hard truths? Perhaps take the enneagram test (there are plenty online).

How’s THIS for realness:

‘Perhaps the biggest obstacle facing Twos, Threes, and Fours in their inner work is having to face their underlying Center fear of worthlessness. Beneath the surface, all three types fear that they are without value in themselves, and so they must be or do something extraordinary in order to win love and acceptance from others. In the average to unhealthy Levels, Twos present a false image of being completely generous and unselfish and of not wanting any kind of pay-off for themselves, when in fact, they can have enormous expectations and unacknowledged emotional needs.’

I could have done with this in my twenties.

For my birthday this year, I am going out for dinner with my wife and then joining some friends for a gig. On the weekend I’m off to the football. I have articulated my needs and wants.

Until next time,

Onwards

(And merry Richmas to you all.)

Thank you for reading. If you like this, please subscribe or tell a friend. It’s free. You can find out more about my professional work at richardbrowne.com.au. I said last week that I was going to write a piece about sincerity, and that’s still cooking away. It will be ready when the time is right. Or not.