There comes a glorious day in every survivor’s life when you just… stop caring. Like full-body, soul-level, zero shits given kind of not caring. For me, it happened somewhere between my mum telling me she was “going to be all alone on her birthday”… and a week later announcing she was throwing a massive backyard barbecue for 100 people. I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or nominate her for the Guinness World Record in Emotional Whiplash. Phase One: The Loneliness Guilt Trip First, it was the classic “nobody loves me” performance. Full drama. Head down, sighing, “It’s just going to be me… completely alone on my birthday.” Cue the violins. Phase Two: The Social Flex Plot Twist Fast-forward a week, and suddenly we’ve upgraded from Sad Susan to Party Queen. “I’ve got like, a hundred people coming. Huge barbecue! Are you coming?” …Ma’am. What happened to “all alone”? Did the ghosts RSVP? Phase Three: My New Superpower — Not Caring In the past, I’d panic. I’d ...