CELEBRATING OURSELVES AND WHY THAT MATTERS

This month’s blog is a bit more personal than most I write, but it feels necessary—for me, and for us, as artists and people. Thank you for bearing with me as I attempt to tie all of this together and connect it to art-making.

July is my birthday month, and I’m writing this post as a way of capturing a deep truth that arrived a day or so before my birthday. You see, I’m a quiet birthday person. I don’t share my birthday on social media or make a big deal about it. Often, it passes with little fanfare, and I’ve always said that’s because it’s what I want.

But the other day, it hit me: I don’t avoid birthday attention because I think it’s wrong, or because I judge anyone who shouts it from the rooftops. Not at all–I love celebrating others on their birthdays. It’s just that, for me, there’s another story at play.

I asked myself, How is the story I hold around my birthday serving me, and what else might it be connected to? That question opened a place of curiosity within me, and it led to a beautiful awareness and reframing that I want to share with you.

When I was a young girl, I was very shy—an introverted, sensitive, creative child in a loud, boisterous world. I avoided attention, and birthdays were all about attention. That made them really uncomfortable for me, so I went quiet about them.

But I was also conflicted because, like most children, I wanted to feel loved and accepted. I just didn’t want the unwanted attention. What a double bind that is. As a result, birthdays became a bit of a pain point—filled with anticipation and expectations, fear and discomfort, sadness and relief all rolled into one messy ball.

As I grew older, the fear of attention became less of an issue. It no longer feels the same way it once did—and that’s one of the gifts of aging. Thankfully, I’ve moved forward in ways that support my sensitivity while also allowing me to take up space and be seen.

It hasn’t always been easy—and it can still feel hard on any given day—but I now better understand the nature of my introversion and need for privacy. I respect that I need quiet and space, and I no longer feel shame for being who I am.

Still, this issue with my birthday comes up every year. So, what is that about?

What occurred to me the other day is that I’ve been coming at this all wrong. I was making my birthday about me and this dilemma of trying to fit in, to be willing to celebrate myself, to receive love and acceptance through the ritual of a birthday celebration.

But I realized that what’s actually being celebrated on a birthday is the fact that we were born—that we were given a life here, in this time, with all that it has to offer. A birthday is a ritual that acknowledges the extraordinary gift of life. It's a marker of the passage from wherever we came from into this known world. I had missed that part altogether, and I felt so much gratitude when it was revealed to me.

So, I started thinking about what I came into this world to do—to be an artist, and to help others.

From an early age, I sensed that my big feelings and sensitivities were there for a deeper purpose. I just didn’t know how to use them. For a long time I was lost—until I wasn’t.

Much to my surprise, art-making brought up everything that wasn’t serving me. My early attempts were tentative but full of potential. Yet as I became more serious about my art, I began to confront everything unhealed within me—barriers to my expression. How I felt about myself showed up in the work like a giant mirror, reflecting back my lack of self-acceptance and compassion. Every move I made was questioned and scrutinized by my inner critics.

I had the skills, the techniques, the information. I had put in the time and focus. But something was off. I was off. I was seeing myself in the work and rejecting it as not good enough, not right, not acceptable, not unique, not cutting-edge, not viable or valuable.

When I finally began to understand that my relationship with myself was the issue—not my abilities as an artist—I was able to work on healing that relationship so my art could become more true and connected to my essence. And that essence has value, just as yours has value.

Now, I have ways of nurturing and supporting myself as an artist that allow me to create work that comes from my truth and sensibilities. But where I still struggle sometimes is in celebrating that work—drawing attention to it, broadcasting its availability, offering it up for sale.

It kind of feels like the birthday thing—a confusing mix of wanting to share the joy of creation and not wanting to draw attention to myself. And I know I’m not alone. Many of my clients share these same feelings and challenges.

But if I see my life as a gift, and I can reframe my birthday as a celebration of that gift, then can I also reframe my art as a gift worth celebrating? Might these two ideas be connected? I’m pretty sure they are.

What helps me move through the fear of unwanted attention is tuning into the deeper meaning and purpose of things.

My birthday is a celebration of being given this life, and I can honour that in whatever way feels meaningful to me. I will no longer let it be a pathway to feeling small, different, or unseen. I will ritualize it for myself—to honour the gift that is being acknowledged. I will receive my own support and love, alongside any that comes from others. I will hold no expectations, and impose none on myself.

As I write this, I’m exploring how this healing around my birthday will colour my relationship with celebrating my art as the gift it is. I know it will—and I’m in the process. The discoveries will likely be the subject of a future blog post.

What I’m sensing is that my complicated relationship with receiving attention is where I need to focus. I want to explore what’s at play and how I can show up for myself more fully. Playing small doesn’t serve me—or anyone else. And it certainly doesn’t serve my art.

While I feel I make my work for me and from me, I want to honour the gift that art-making is in ways that allow it to do its purposeful work out in the world.

Thank you for reading this. Perhaps you see some of yourself in these words and shared reflections. We humans are complicated beings—always evolving and growing into better versions of ourselves. Art helps us do that. And this year, as I celebrate my birthday, I will also celebrate the life that art-making has led me to. I can’t imagine a life without it.

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