When You Go Home Alone After the Cake
I turned 38 last year, and I felt compelled to capture some thoughts on that day. (ADHD Sidenote: Only just now getting around to publishing them. Classic.)
Here’s the thing: birthdays can be weird when you’re single, especially when you’re at the age where others wonder why you are alone. We’ve been conditioned to think that being alone is the same thing as being lonely.
And sure, sometimes that’s true. Even when you’re celebrated, even when your phone lights up with messages, there’s still that moment at the end of the day when you come home—alone.
This year, that was me.
And also? This year was different.
I Was Celebrated—And Not Just by Others
At work, I got flowers, cake, and my first piñata (which I was made to swing at with a baseball bat in front of all my coworkers). I had dinner with good friends. I got texts, calls, and messages from people I love.
But the biggest difference this year was how I showed up for myself.
What Changed? Me.
Over the past year, I started pouring into myself. And it turns out, when you do that—when you actually prioritize your own emotional well-being—you have more capacity to pour into others. Wild, right?
I made the calls. I wrote the thoughtful texts. I initiated plans. And most days, I showed up in genuine gratitude, trying to assume the best of those around me. (ADHD Sidenote: This is a key to being happy. More on that another time.)
I’ve always been a kind person in a people-pleasing, codependent-Enneagram-2 kind of way. But this past year, I stopped trying to earn love and started learning how to receive it. Which, surprisingly, changed everything.
The Work Behind the Birthday
None of this happened overnight.
This version of me is 20+ years into therapy. I’ve done EMDR, somatic healing, and trauma work. I’ve read the books, listened to the podcasts, said “no” to jobs that drained me. I even hired a life coach last year for six months.
And somewhere along the way, I stopped believing I had no self-worth.
I started realizing that deep down, even in the lowest seasons, there was always a part of me fighting. Showing up to therapy. Knowing when I needed meds. Helping me get out of bed when I really didn’t want to.
And that part of me? She’s louder now. And she knows the truth:
I am worthy. Worthy of love. Worthy of celebration. Worthy of piñatas.
And so are you.
A Quick Practice
What’s one small way you can show up for yourself today?
It doesn’t have to be huge. It could be skipping snooze. Drinking water. Texting a friend. Saying no to something that drains you.
For me, it started with setting a boundary. The first one was not letting my dad talk to me about my weight. And it worked.
Reflection
How can you celebrate yourself today—without waiting for someone else to do it first?