On Spending Birthdays Alone

(Originally written October 12, 2022.)

Confession time.

I love birthdays. Probably even more than most holidays. I say most, because some holidays like New Year's Eve, Mardi Gras, and Halloween feel like a collective celebration for every person participating in the festivities.

But birthdays have a different vibe to them. There’s a special feeling that comes with celebrating someone’s life. Maybe it’s the fact they’ve made it another year on this planet. Maybe it’s the reflection of what life would be like if they weren’t here to grow older. Or maybe it’s the rare consideration as to what your life would be like had they never been born.

I usually look forward to my birthday. Despite the anxiety surrounding aging, especially as a woman, coupled with my life looking nothing like I’d imagined, I still get tiny bursts of excitement when October rolls around.

That being said, I rarely plan parties for myself, but the few I have turned out better than expected. And the ones thrown on my behalf have meant more than any daydream of a party ever could.

This year is my 40th and I’ve been fantasizing about it since before turning 39. I’ve likely been thinking about it since my 30th birthday, but without too much focus back then. A whole decade ago 40 felt a long way off and also seemed much scarier then it’s proving to be.

There’s always the expectation that the next year is going to be bigger. It’s going to be better. I’ll have another whole year to plan the best party, best trip, night out, dinner, concert, or whatever type of celebration to be held in my honor. In my mind, next years birthday will always take the cake over whatever I’ve done in the past. Good was in the past, better in the present, but best in the future.

Until it isn’t.

Maybe if the party wasn’t going to happen I could go on a faraway trip. Something Eat, Pray, Love, style. One that required a passport, but also more money than I could afford.

The hoopla my ego dreamt up eventually began to look more like the type of fairy tale I’d conjectured about so many other things.

Life got messy. I got lost along the way. And finding myself during this time took priority. It’s been more than self-exploration, though. Recently I’ve felt like a heavy machine operator having to excavate myself from the hole I dug following massive heartbreak.

And now, as the human part to my being completes another trip around the sun, I am finally starting to see the sky again and shake the dirt off, one speck at a time.

So, here we are.

And here I am.

It’s my 40th birthday and I will be spending it alone.

I won’t be shipwreck stranded alone. I still have to go to work at my brand-spanking new job. It’s one of the tools to help me out of the stifled darkness and into the fresh air. And it’s the reason I recently moved to a new-ish town, a two hour drive from any friends or family.

Recently I’ve been reconnecting with a few people I haven’t talked to in a while. I could blame it on the mercury plus multiple other planet retrograde that just ended. But the truth is I’ve missed them from the moment we disconnected. And I like to think they’ve missed me to.

The past few weeks I’ve been texting with one of them, and on multiple occasions they’d brought up my birthday. At first I simply ignored it. Then they got loud with it, over text. And the confession that I was spending my birthday alone was revealed. This felt particularly shameful because they’d wanted to be told I was doing something epic. In a way I felt like I was disappointing them by not doing that. Then I came to terms with the fact that I was really disappointed in myself, and that was all that mattered.

After texting the multiple reasons why fate had led me on this path to aloneness for my 40th, I eventually confessed that of course I’d wanted it to be different. That I’d rather be doing something even slightly big and be surrounded by people I love, who love me back. But I’d waved the white flag and succumbed to the fact that this birthday was, in fact, going to un-extraordinary.

Those messages gradually progressed from looking on the bright-side, to looking at the cold hard facts through emo-tinted lenses. In between sending those messages, the rumination in my mind began. I began obsessing over everything from the conversation I was having and who I was having it with, to my birthday, blundered life choices, and the drowning feeling that I was on an endless swirl of the toilet bowl called life.

I tried working to break the thoughts, but watching training videos and “orienting” at my new job left ample time for monkey brain. To escape myself after work I tried reading, walking, swimming, listening to an audiobook, checking and ignoring the 3k+ and growing email inbox, driving, organizing and cleaning the tricked out toy-hauler I live in, and last but not least eating. I did everything I could do to make me feel better, but they were poor attempts at avoiding the painful emotions boiling beneath the surface.

Finally, before reaching for my one-hitter, because new job and all, I got honest with myself and sent that last message. Then I cried, letting the feelings roll through and over me. And eventually, I came out of that sob with a clearer head and story to tell.

Here we are.

This year's birthday has been another hard lesson that we often don’t get the things we want. Our daydreams and fantasies are often just that, make believe.

Yet, sometimes better things come from letting go of what we want and accepting the things that simply are. The things that have yet to come. The unexpected. Those blessings in disguise. Or something I like to call, glitter-sharts. And spending my birthday alone just may be one of those sparkly shitty situations.

I won’t be having a party this weekend or going out to dinner with anyone. There won’t be a birthday cake or balloons this week. I won’t get sung to or told to blow out the candles. The invitation to meet a best friend half-way and share lunch on Sunday, in between chores and the evening scaries before the next work week begins would be more of an inconvenience to both of us and leave us wishing for more time together. But I am so grateful for the offer.

Instead at the end of the month we will celebrate both of our October birthdays, and be surrounded by loving friends and another special soul who shares the actual day of my birth. Our longstanding friend group will celebrate together at my favorite mexican restaurant in the whole wide world.

A few weeks after that I’ll be getting together with two soul sisters I’ve known for twenty-five years and can’t imagine life without.

Today I’ll go to work at my new, scary job. One that to some degree, I’m terrified of on a daily basis because it’s so different than everything else I’ve done in my field. Yet, the coworkers I have are magical in the sense that they already make the job feel familiar. They make every day even more special by making me feel like I belong.

My third day there I was stunned from my anxiety and propelled back into the moment by one of the grandmotherly women there. She touched me on the arm with such ease and kindness, it almost took my breath away. Like a long lost loved one was was reaching out through her fingers to remind me that I am okay. And that there are caring people in this world, even if you don’t know them.

Tonight I’ll have dinner at one of the best restaurants in this small town. After that I’ll head to the local library for a crafting event that’s been calling my name since first reading about it.

The couple of cards I’ve gotten in the mail have been patiently waiting for their unveiling, which I’ll get to after work. I’m also sure to get some calls, texts, and maybe even Facetimes. I’ve already gotten one accidental call from someone thinking yesterday was already today. Let the festivities begin.

There will be an abundance of love everywhere I look despite the lack of a party, trip, or physical presence of a loved one. And that abundance is already here, always was and always will be.

Despite being alone, I usually don’t feel lonely anymore. At least, not like I used to. In fact, I relish in doing things by myself now. That’s why I was inspired to recently see someone from high school on a solo trip for their 40th birthday. Looking at the photos of their personal celebration was not only inspiring, but comforting. It made me feel connected despite her being countries apart and us never really being more than social media friends. Despite the differences of how we’ll spend our birthdays, it removed some of the shame I’ve been feeling leading up to this week.

I attend a weekly phone support group for codependency and it’s at these meetings that I’m also reminded of how less alone we actually are in the world. Despite the people on the other end of the line being strangers, hearing them struggle with some of the same thoughts, detrimental behaviors, and everything in between always leaves me feeling more connected.

Someone recently reminded the group that we are human beings, not human doings.

Having a big 40th party isn’t something I need to check off the list. I can’t deny that it would’ve been nice. But at the same time, what I’ve remembered during this experience is the importance of being present. Realizing that every moment is already a gift. We have this time, these minutes to live as fully as possible. And when we get too caught up in fantasies about the future or are stuck torturing ourselves over the past, we’re missing out on the potential magic that’s happening in the here and now.

Next years birthday may be better. Or it could be worse. Life is a combination of good and bad moments. It’s an ever changing wave of situations, emotions, and patterns of growth combined with setbacks. And that’s what the human experience is all about.

And depending on your religious or spiritual beliefs, we are never truly alone. Our souls are always connected to love and whatever higher power you believe in (if you believe). We may feel lonely at times, but that’s simply an emotion that comes and goes. Like anger, or overwhelm, pain, or excitement. Our thoughts, emotions, and sensations like physical pain are always ebbing and flowing through us. But one thing they don’t do is define who we are.

So this year I’ll celebrate in the way that I can, which means spending my birthday alone. And next year I’ll celebrate in whatever way presents itself at the time. I’m finally realizing that reality falling short of my expectations doesn’t make my birthday any less special, and it certainly doesn’t make me any less loved or deserving.

During this next trip around the sun I hope to be more vulnerable. To celebrate every day through gratitude. I want to quit longing to be somewhere else and enjoy every second of however much time I have remaining on this planet. I’m going to speak up more. And finally stick a fork in all of the writing projects that have never seemed done enough. I want to share more of my true self, even if it’s only quietly at first. Live in loving awareness. Look out at life with kindness and curiosity. Finally be my own hero. And like Ram Dass says, I want to “Be here now.”

Each day is a rebirth. A chance to live better. Be kinder. Connect to our true selves. Share love with others.

Each day, minute, and moment is a gift. And I’ve still got a lot of celebrating to do.