wound a little tight

Happy Birthday to me. My birthday is a big deal to me. But not in the traditional way. A lot of folks want lots of gifts and to be the center of attention. That's okay too, but that's not the reason I celebrate my birthday. And it doesn't have anything to do with my age either (who wants to celebrate that after the age of 27!?). I take the whole week, and really the whole month, to treat myself the way I should be treating myself all year long.

I rule myself with an iron fist. It's so intense wouldn't want to be under my own rule, but...obviously you see where I'm going here. To my own detriment, I let myself judge myself all the live long day. To know why, you'd have to ask the therapist I don't have. I don't spend my money. I pay utility bills, trim costs, and save. I have never bought a coffee without at least a 24 hour to 30 day review period with my inner accounting department. It's obnoxious and unhealthy. I have done some things right in my life, and they are wonderful departures from my everyday existence.

BUT. Then there is my birthday. I claim the month as my own. The week is up on a pedestal, and the day is sacred. I take the opportunity to feel what I want to do, and then I do it. I spend some money and buy my lunch. I get a new phone or buy a shirt. I skip the things I do that I don't like and do the things I do like. I let myself off the bloody hook. No more negative thoughts. No more judgement. I am who I am and I do what I do. I try my best not to second guess anything. This feels amazing and free.

Why can't I do this better, to some degree, the rest of the time, I'm not certain. Why do I continue to go to karate, which I don't like? Why can't I walk out of the office and go buy a sandwich for lunch without feeling guilty for not being in my seat? Why not pull the car right over and get something to drink, just for fun? I live in a POS camp. Prisoner-of-Self. Also, the other thing that POS stands for. My hope is that I learn to unlock the cell door more often, at any old time of the year. Maybe I can even leave the entire prison camp someday and walk the earth freely, like a hobo. I'll wish for that when I blow out those candles again.