September has been a month of birthdays and anniversaries in our family.

These occasions are supposed to be happy. We gather the people we love, acknowledge another year and celebrate the memories we have created together. Yet milestones can also bring emotions we do not always expect—or understand.

A birthday, in particular, can bring up far more than excitement about presents, cake or getting older.

Some people love their birthday. Others feel unusually emotional, anxious, flat or disappointed as it approaches. They may want to avoid the attention altogether or find themselves placing expectations on the day that nobody seems able to meet.

Sometimes there is an obvious reason. A birthday may remind us of someone who is no longer here, a difficult period in our life or the passing of time.

But sometimes we cannot explain what we are feeling.

We assume we are being ungrateful, overly sensitive or disappointed because the day did not unfold as we imagined. But what if the feelings surrounding your birthday are not only about what is happening now?

What if they also hold something from the day your life began?

We usually know the practical details of our birth. The date, time, hospital and perhaps how long our mother was in labour. But we may know very little about the emotional world into which we arrived.

What was happening in your parents’ lives at the time?

How did your mother feel during the pregnancy and birth?

Did she feel safe and supported, or was she frightened, overwhelmed or alone?

Was your arrival eagerly anticipated, unexpected or surrounded by uncertainty?

Who was there and who was absent?

What was the emotional atmosphere surrounding your first moments of life?

Our conscious mind may not remember the day we were born, but our beginning still forms part of our story. Before we had words to explain what was happening, we were already experiencing the world around us.

A client came to see me in August last year after developing psoriasis at the age of fifty-six. It seemed to have appeared out of the blue, and she wanted to explore where this sudden change could have developed and why at this particular time of her life.

During our Root Cause Therapy session, the first event that arose was the day of her birth. The wisdom she received during the session was that her mother had said she was an ugly baby.

Whether those words were spoken carelessly, jokingly or during a difficult moment, the feeling she connected with them had remained: there was something wrong with the way she looked.

More than five decades later, that feeling had become present in her life again. Something had been triggered in her.

Our work was not about blaming her mother or making a medical claim about the cause of her psoriasis. It was about recognising the belief that had surfaced, understanding the feeling attached to it and helping her release what she had been carrying.

She could not change what had happened at the beginning of her story, but she could change the meaning it continued to hold for her.

In my work as a Root Cause Therapist, I have seen how experiences from the earliest stages of life can become connected to feelings and patterns that are difficult to understand in the present. This does not mean every emotion we experience on our birthday or every physical symptom can be traced back to our birth. But the circumstances surrounding our arrival may offer another place to look when our reactions seem larger or more complicated than the present moment can explain.

Our Self Foundation begins forming before we have the language to describe ourselves. We enter a family, a relationship and an emotional world already in progress. We begin absorbing information about safety, connection and belonging long before we can consciously make sense of it.

This is not about blaming our parents.

They were living their own human stories, carrying their own fears, beliefs, pressures and circumstances. Many were doing the best they could with what they understood at the time.

It is simply about becoming curious.

Perhaps your birthday brings up a need to feel especially seen because there was a time when you did not feel fully seen.

Perhaps you feel disappointed when other people do not make the day significant because, beneath the surface, you are still looking for reassurance that your arrival mattered.

Perhaps you avoid celebrating altogether because attention has never felt comfortable or safe.

Or perhaps your feelings have nothing to do with your birth and are connected to experiences that happened later. Understanding ourselves is not about forcing every emotion into a neat explanation. It is about being willing to look beneath the surface and ask what might be there.

If your birthday brings up sadness, anxiety, loneliness or expectations you struggle to explain, you do not need to judge yourself for it. You could begin by asking about the day you were born.

Ask your mother, father or someone who was there what they remember. Not only what happened, but how it felt. Listen to the stories that have been told about your arrival and notice how you feel as you hear them.

You may discover something meaningful. You may not. Either way, you will understand another part of the story that shaped you.

Your birthday is more than the date on which you become another year older. It marks the day you entered the world and the beginning of your relationship with it.

So, when your next birthday comes around, there may be a different question worth asking.

Not only, How do I feel about getting older?

But also:

What was happening around me on the day I arrived—and could any part of that story still be influencing how I feel today?

Your beginning does not have to determine the rest of your story. But understanding it may help you understand yourself.

Michelle x

P.S. If this letter resonated, these are the kinds of questions I explore in my new book, Being Human in a Robotic World: The Way Back to You. [Pre-order your copy here.]​