King for the day

Steve does not like celebrating his birthday.

He told me this long ago, and I came to believe he does not like his birthday because he didn’t have many celebrations as a kid. So, I set about fixing it and changing his mind. I have made sure, for the past four birthdays we’ve been together, that he has had a great time. Each year has topped the previous year, with last year–his 40th–culminating in a trip to Napa. Hard to top that.

This year, I asked him to request March 11 and 12 as vacation days, and I started looking for a place for us to go within a few hours of Denver. Usually, I love trip planning–finding the perfect place to stay, searching for bargains, figuring out the right balance between scheduled activities and free time. This year the whole thing was a struggle. I was so frustrated I put out a Very Personal Ad here and got no responses. (Universe–trying to tell me something? Hmmm?) Steve’s boss owns a place in Summit County, and had offered it to us a no cost, so Steve said he’d ask if we could use it that weekend.

He didn’t. He didn’t even ask for the time off until this week. And when he told me he couldn’t have those days off next week, I freaked out, because I felt like he sabotaged the whole thing.

The energy in our house has been out of whack. Last weekend was fight central. Many shoes were hurled. The rain of shoes–some intentional–continued through Wednesday, culminating in much nastiness on my part and my husband evacuating the house for a couple of hours.

During the ugliness, he told me that he NEVER wanted another acknowledgment of his birthday. EVER. Not a card. Not a dinner. Not a present. Fine, I told him. And later, I cried. I was so frustrated and hurt.

Birthdays have always been important to me. Growing up, they were one of the few days of the year when my whole family, including grandparents, would come together. Birthdays meant feeling special and loved and it being OK to ask for what I wanted. I’ve always made a big deal about my birthday, taking the day off–last year, taking two weeks off. I planned elaborate dinner parties for my ex-husband’s birthday, some of my happiest memories with him. And Lauren’s birthdays, at least until the divorce after which her dad somehow took them over, were always a source of love and pride. I orchestrated huge celebrations for both of my parents’ 60th birthdays, ensuring that far-away friends and relatives attended.

In other words, birthdays allow me to express my love for someone in a special way. And today, it hit me that Steve’s rejection of his birthday and his sabotage of my plans for it this year feels like rejection of ME. Rejection of my love. It’s like I’m a child who’s made a special art blob for a parent and the parent threw it in the trash before my eyes.

And yet, I now understand he is rejecting acknowledgment and celebration of his birthday … not me. Huh.

Bloggers and coaches Havi Brooks and Hiro Boga talk about the concept of sovereignty–the quality of owning your own space, of being so safe being you that nothing can shake you, of not giving a damn what anyone thinks because you are king/queen of your own realm (quote/endquote). I’m working on getting to sovereignty. Today I realized that Steve is also allowed to work toward his own sovereignty … or not. When I do things like force unwanted birthday celebrations on him I am not allowing him to be who he is. I am letting my stuff try to run his stuff. And that doesn’t work for either of us.

That’s why he sabotaged my plans–from my point of view–or didn’t do what I wanted him to do–from his point of view. His birthday and how he celebrates it (or not) is his sovereign choice.  And I should honor him perhaps by asking him what he wants to do (if anything) and respecting his wishes, even if it’s not what I want. Even if it feels wierd or uncomfortable. On that day especially, he should be king.