The last two years, I have had special birthdays. In 2011, the celebration lasted two weeks. I received a surprise party, a work party, cards and gifts including a scuba dive tool (aka knife I strap to my leg like a pirate). Later that month there was a huge birthday dinner during a scuba dive trip. Then on the boat, my fellow divers dumped chocolate syrup and masa flour over my head. I smelled DELICIOUS.

Last year, my sister Renee’ and her husband Eric took me to Las Vegas for dancing, ziplines, yummy food, and good times.

This year, I had nothing planned. And the best thing was that I didn’t care. In the past, I would have been sad and lonely about that fact. I would have taken my lack of plans as a sign that no one cared.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XsYJyVEUaC4

Oh how silly of me to think that. I realize now the only person responsible for me is me.

I can choose to cry on my birthday or laugh on my birthday.

What did I do?

I decided to laugh.

A mere three or so days ago I decided to go scuba diving in Mexico. The signs to go were all over the place anyhow.

Last weekend, I was driving near the swimming pool where my friends and favorite dive shop teach classes. I received a text telling me they were at the pool that day. I flipped a U-turn and within seconds was talking poolside with diving buddies.

One instructor mentioned I should come down to Mexico the next weekend. Yes, that was my birthday weekend. The dive school was taking students for their final certification process. “Maybe” I said.

I don’t have as much money coming into my pocketbook as I once did, but the more I thought about the sea, sand, and diving, the more I was convinced a trip to San Carlos, Sonora was what I should be doing.

I was going to give myself a present and celebrate my birthday for MYSELF. I am becoming more and more independent and less reliant on others to make me happy or convince me that, yes, I am a special person. I deserve to be happy and treat myself with love.

Thus on Tuesday afternoon, I was at the dive shop and paying for the weekend hotel and dives. My vehicle smells heavenly of neoprene, the synthetic rubber used in the material for wetsuits.

I don’t care a bit about who sends me a birthday card or wishes me happy birthday. It’s my responsibility to make myself happy or, gosh, even sad on the anniversary of my birth.

It’s my birthday and I’ll cry if I want to. It’s my birthday and I’ll laugh if I want to.

I choose to laugh and scuba dive.

Mi vida!