My birthday has always been a cause of excitement and celebration. I look forward to it with a mix of anticipation and glee. I like feeling important – as fleeting as that importance is. I like receiving cards and presents and I like eating cake. Yet somehow, this year, September the fourth came and I had none of the thrill I experienced in the previous twenty-one years of my life. Was this a sign of growing up? A sign of maturity? Or perhaps it was just the saturation of excitement. I don’t know why my 22nd birthday left me with a little unease or left a stale, almost bitter, taste in my mouth. (The cake was delicious so it couldn’t have been the food!) But I did think on it for a few days and perhaps I realised an important thing or two…

2015 has been a gift of a year. I have grown as a person. Realised some of my dreams and embarked on a very special journey – medicine. This year has been life-changing in so many ways. Emotional growth and academic fulfilment being just two aspects. My birthday seemed almost a joke of a celebration. It very much paled in comparison. Whilst I was grateful for having lived (survived) yet another year in the journey of life, I was definitely a little overwhelmed by the superficial wishes and insincere facebook comments. I was a little disturbed by how people were willing to spend money on me and congratulate me and wish ‘the best’ for me. On an achievement that wasn’t even mine. I would have thought that the people who raised me and brought me to the station I am at today would be the ones who should be celebrating and receiving the wishes and presents. They did all the hard work and I reaped the benefits of it. But does that make me weird? Am I the Scrooge at Christmas? Honestly, I do not know. And perhaps next year I will be back to my excited, fun self and almost childishly look forward to my birthday. Or not.

I have realised that the actual day held less meaning to me but I stop and thank the stars/ the higher power/ my ‘lot’ in life or *insert who you want to give thanks to* for letting me achieve and fulfil my dreams.

I am the happiest I have ever been and a random calendar day which marks me as a year older means little in comparison. After all I didn’t turn twenty-two on one particular day, just like that. I am growing, absorbing, learning and maturing in different ways, everyday.

I choose to celebrate each day as it passes. For the better parts and the worse.

P.S: Perhaps I am just ageing 😉 And remember, ageing is a totally normal, physiological aspect of human life! 


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