When Birthdays Don’t Feel Magical Anymore

27 years ago, I “blessed” this world with my presence. 27 — not yet old, no longer really young. And I felt it.

Birthdays stopped being magical for me a long time ago. I was thrust into the reality of life when I was 6 and my father got sick. Gone were the faint memories of presents and cake. In their place, the door opened for mental health issues, financial woes, and many suffocating crying sessions, both at my parents’ house as well as in my very own first apartments.

This year, unfortunately, was no different. It started on August 15th. I felt overwhelmed, tired, exhausted — and very much done. I started reflecting: what have I accomplished so far? Based on all the experiences, the hurdles I jumped, the tears I wiped away, and the birthdays celebrated… was I there?

It didn’t feel like it. It didn’t feel like I would ever reach there.

I had read Meg Jay’s book once, The Defining Decade¹. I knew that even clinicians don’t believe your twenties are the time of your life. But still, I felt… like I lacked.

Lacked knowledge.
Lacked guidance.
Lacked grace.
Lacked happiness.

I don’t like myself — my weight, my thought process, my mental health issues, my job, and, lastly, the point I am at in my life currently. I wished I did.

I look at Instagram, Reddit, LinkedIn, and other social platforms, and every post, every picture, every caption seems to solidify these thoughts.

All of this culminated in tears — on my birthday.
A day I should be thankful for.
Not only for being given life, but for all the blessings I already have: family, friends, a roof over my head, food, life itself.

But is that all I am meant to do on earth?

Is this it?
And if it is… shouldn’t I be as content as possible?

I don’t know. The day I was supposed to be happy about was the day I felt like I had wasted it all. And as the sun set for another day, it felt like all my hope set with it.

This was a great overview of the book, I hope you enjoy.