Worth.

I’ve booked a party. For my 40th. It’s a big one. In fact, it’s the biggest party I’ve ever organised for myself. Actually, when I come to think about it, it’s the only party I’ve ever organised for myself.

I’ve always loved the idea of throwing big birthday parties. It’s always so much fun when I go to other people’s big and fabulous parties but, when it actually comes to it, I’ve always chickened out.

Of course, that’s not what I tell myself. What I tell myself is that I can’t really afford it, or finding a venue is so hard, or I’m too busy, or my birthday is in the summer so everyone will be on holiday and with that, I’ll book a dinner with my girlfriends, a dinner with Jimmy and we’ll call it a day.

But the reality is, I chicken out of throwing myself a party. Why? Because I’m riddled with insecurity. I start to think that no one will want to come, that I can’t throw a good party, that my taste in music is shit, or I don’t have enough friends and that the friends I do have will compare my party to other parties and think it’s rubbish.

This party I’ve organised for my 40th is no exception. I’m having all those feelings. I’m stressed and every time I think about it, I think about cancelling it. I was talking to a friend about these feelings at a BBQ on Saturday - luckily she’s a therapist and I’d noticed when she walked in that she was reading Glennon Doyle’s Untamed.

She said to me, “You need to be more Glennon and stop telling yourself you’re not worth this party. Throw the party, have a few drinks, dance your socks off and have a fucking great time.”

It was like a punch of goodness in the face. She was right. I am worth a party - the expense, the time, the effort that people will make - and now, after the year that we’ve had, we’re all ready for a party. So, here’s my mantra to myself as I enter my 5th decade:

You’re always worth the party.

And so are you.