I didn’t get 200 happy birthday messages on my facebook today. I didn’t have a party with all my 30 closest friends. I didn’t even have a party at all. I didn’t get calls all day, and text messages ticking in every few minutes. I didn’t meet someone for lunch or get treated for a manicure. I didn’t get a present. But still, in between helplessly checking my facebook wall or phone, I managed to smile a little. I have so much more still than many, and even if I am too darn obsessed with who remembered me or not, I cherish and value that.
I don’t wanna count my blessings after how many remembered me. I don’t wanna value my life after how many friends I got, or how many likes I got on a post on facebook. I don’t wanna be unhappy with a relatively good day, because it wasn’t “perfect” or I didn’t post a single photo on instagram that day. I don’t wanna compete, because life is not a competition.
I spent an hour of my birthday in therapy, and I spent time crying. But that doesn’t mean that my birthday or my life is a loser life. It means that I spent this day, like every other day, moving forwards. It means that I spent it fighting for a better tomorrow.
I even took a nap today, and you know what: it was an excellent nap.
What made this day worse than it could’ve been wasn’t that I’m depressed or filled with anxiety, or that I had a meltdown, or that I cried because of some stupid thing my mom said. It wasn’t even spending an hour in therapy discussing messed up stuff from the past. It was the fact that I against my better judgement, and against my thoughts just had to check my facebook to see who had congratulated me, and that I thought of how I didn’t throw a party or see a single friend all day. It was the fact that I felt like not documenting my fabulous chinese noodle dinner with a photo almost meant that it hadn’t even happened.
What happened? How did we get here? When did not showing your relationship status on facebook start to mean that ‘you and your boyfriend can’t be serious’? When did we start to define ourselves and the value of our lives after how many likes we get on our updates? When did our happiness start being determined by all the surrounding that we honestly don’t give a shit about?
It exhausts me that it has to be this way. I don’t want to follow this, but I don’t know how to not either. I try, and I try, but I still think about it. Maybe being depressed makes you think even more about this, or is it really our society that has gone this way? The ironic thing is that I’m gonna post this worrying over how many likes I’m gonna get.