It's my birthday.

Here's why it matters (to me). An essay on shyness, confidence and self-celebration.

Me on my 9th birthday, holding a match.

When I was researching my book Shy, I interviewed several psychologists, as I wanted to understand the root of this personality trait.

I discovered that shyness is part-genetic, part-environmental.

But also, that genetic traits will only be activated in an environment, so the exact split is almost impossible to determine.

If you have a child who is genetically predisposed to be shy, you will only know the extent to which this will manifest as they develop and show traits (or not).

And this will be influenced by the people raising them and the environment they’re being raised in.

I had an inkling that second-born children might be more prone to shyness than first-born children, being somewhat in the shadow of their older sibling.

This, it turns out, has some truth in it.

So my own childhood shyness might have been impacted by my place in the family (I’m one of three, second-born), along with my genetic make-up.

I’m talking about shyness today, because it’s my birthday (happy birthday).

I was born 39 years ago to the minute.

And I’m one of these insufferable types who likes to make a very big deal about my birthday.

So I’ve spent this past week asking my parents things like: when you see the date 14th June written down [today’s date; my birthday], do you feel excited?

To which they have both replied, independently: no, not really.

(The ‘not really’ purely for politeness; the real answer being a straight ‘no’.)

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I went into labour with my first baby the day before my 29th birthday (10 years ago).

The contractions started in the early hours of the Friday morning, under a full rose moon.

By the time I got into hospital to give birth 24 hours later - on my actual birthday - I was an animal, groaning and growling.

They treated me like I was quite special, though, and gave me a private room rather than one on the ward.

Every time a midwife came into the room and checked my notes, they’d exclaim: it’s your birthday! And seem genuinely excited.

But of course that birthday was about birthing a baby. Not celebrating my own.

I went into the hospital with my first contractions aged 28 and came out aged 29 - and a mother.

It wasn’t until I was handed some presents that I even remembered my own birthday.

My daughter, rather politely, had kept herself cosy in my womb - or at least the birth canal - until half-past midnight the day after my birthday, so that we could each have our own celebration.

But what this means is that I often spend part of my birthday preparing for hers.

Now, this is the kind of sacrifice mothers are supposed to make - and I do - but it’s not one I would say I’m happy about.

I’m happy about her. My daughter’s arrival was the single most joyful and love-filled moment of my life up until that point. I adore her.

But I’m a bit pissed off that she highjacked my birthday.

So this week, while she’s been skipping around in an extremely good mood, looking forward to her graffiti party (that I organised) saying: I can’t wait for Saturday! - I’ve been saying: do you mean Friday? My birthday?

To which she rolls her eyes and tells me to fuck off.

(She doesn’t say the actual words, but I know she’s thinking it.)

While musing on my obsession with my birthday, it occurred to me that it might be linked to my childhood shyness, and to being second-born.

The second-born, or ‘middle’ child - if you have three children - never has her parents all to herself. She is born into a sharing dynamic.

And possibly, into a sharing dynamic that the older sibling isn’t so happy about - having had their parents dote solely on them for some time.

And so she makes herself disappear a bit, so as not to upset the status-quo.

But shy people might like attention, too. I certainly do. And the one day of the year that I get it, without fail? MY BIRTHDAY.

Growing up, I remember birthday parties in the garden. We’d sit around in a circle, me and all my friends, playing pass the parcel.

I’d be dressed in a floral dress (see photo above), with a silk hairband, smiling as people handed me presents and wished me happy birthday.

I got to blow out the candles on my strawberry and cream sponge cake and make a wish.

My mum made a big effort for me and my siblings on our birthdays. I feel lucky for that.

And now, as a mother, my focus is on my own children. Their needs, appointments, social arrangements, birthdays. I sideline my own needs to accommodate theirs.

I’ve decided to forgo a birthday ‘night out’ this year, to keep my energy for my daughter’s party the following day.

But the daytime on my birthday is for me.

I make a plan to do something special. Something that I choose. Food that I like to eat. Transport that I enjoy. Today, I will be spending it with my husband and he’s arranged a surprise. I’m excited.

This is the one day of the year where I’m allowed to be selfish. I’m allowed to put myself first. And no one will question me.

It’s the day where my shy child bursts forth and delights in all the attention. Where she says: I might be shy but I still want to feel special.

And everyone says: today, you are.

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Because ‘it’s my birthday’, and I’m allowed to ‘do what I want to’, I’m going to quickly tell you about a new course that I’m launching. I think it’s relevant.

This course is connected to the last one, but it’s about confidence.

It’s called The Creative Way (to build your confidence) and it’s about taking back the power, in your own life, and using it to propel you forwards.

There are guided meditations that will take you to meet your past self, present self and future self.

As well as creative journalling, art-based activities and a little dollop of SQ (spiritual intelligence: accessing your intuition; a manifesting practice).

You will get to know yourself, intimately. And to work out which parts you’re bringing forward. Also, to build your confidence and set exciting life goals.

It’s a summer course, starting 8th July.

And it’s the perfect course to take on holiday with you, or to work on over the summer, committing 10 minutes a day or an hour a week, to you.

A bit like it’s your birthday, every day, for a small pocket of time.

I’m delighted that women have started signing up already. We’re going to create some magic together.

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But now… I’m off to be birthday woman. Lime-biking to lunch. And not doing any official work.

If you have any qus about the course, please do email and I’ll respond very soon, though. Or you can just go ahead and sign up on the early-bird price.

It will make my birthday even better to know we’ll be connecting through this new course: you, me and all the other women who want to feel a bit bloody special.

Annie x

Ps. I found this tiny house that I would like to live in.

Someone else has made a higher offer, but I’ve just told the estate agent that it’s my birthday, and asked if we can view it again.

Reader, I think he’s going to make it happen.

The power of making it known that it’s your day.