The Trauma of Special Occasions

identity concealed to protect the humiliated

Recently a friend of mine bravely decided to throw herself a birthday party.  She spent weeks in preparation, getting just the right outfit, hair, nails, jewelry, even deciding to give the party a theme.
This party was supposed to be the coming together of different entities in her life: roommates, old friends, new friends, co-workers, even her lover--all together under the same roof celebrating the only thing they all had in common: affection for the hostess.

Ambitious? Definitely. Impossible? Maybe. Ill-fated? Absolutely.

Everything began to unravel when, an hour after showtime, one roommate and I were still the only guests who'd arrived.  She was beginning to panic.  I tried to diffuse the scene by plying her with soothing speech and cocktails, but those were only band-aids.  The impending doom lay in the possibility that when her lover arrived, no one was going to be there, and she was afraid she'd be humiliated.  (Also she dribbled vodka down the front of her perfect outfit.)
Finally guests began to pour in. But somehow, they were all from the that section of the guest list that you're only inviting just in case no one else comes.  One of them began to inappropriately monopolize the conversation, at one point even likening sex with an AIDS patient to being as morally bankrupt as sex with one's own mother. Don't ask. The point is, this party was going nowhere fast.
And that's not even the worst of it.  But for the sake of time, space and my friend's pride, I won't go on to mention what else went awry.  The lesson to be learned here is that once you reach a certain age, you realize that birthdays are rarely those magical moments that we as children are led to believe they are supposed to be.
Part of growing up is learning to accept that your birthday is just another day.  So is Thanksgiving after all.  And Christmas for that matter.  Often we tend to attach such expectations and lofty objectives to these "special occasions" that when they turn out to be average days, we end up devastated.
Why do we do it to ourselves?  Because we have ideals and hopes and dreams that life--even if only for a couple days out of the year--can be perfect.  And it's hope that makes us human.
So worry not, dear Reader, if no one comes to your birthday party.  Should your holiday plans collapse this Thanksgiving, if your family is far away, or your traditions due to circumstances are somehow impossible to recreate, be happy that today is, after all, just another day.
But take heart in the fact that tomorrow is too.  And keep trying.

Ambitious? Definitely. Naive? Maybe. Worth it? Absolutely.