I have always found comfort in the thought that should the start of my new year be a bit (or more) off than what I expected, I will always have my birth month to come next and save the first quarter of the year or at least serve as another restart, my very own new year.

People who have known me for a long time could probably guess that I put an incredible amount of pressure to myself and also to the people dear to me when it comes to celebrating not just mine but also their birthdays, and any other special occasions for that matter. The pressure could be so great that you would think I have never had a celebration party my entire life or that I have been too pampered to let one pass. Neither is true. I have quite a number of birthday celebrations which are all not grand but have been some of my core memories. 

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During my last year as a high school student, almost everyone of my classmates celebrated their birthdays by inviting the whole class to their houses. I, as a jealous brat, wanted to do the same but also did not want to ask my parents to prepare for such; and since I did not come from a family of mind readers, on the morning of my birthday, I bawled my eyes out to my mom questioning why we still got nothing planned.

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I was seventeen when I first celebrated my birthday without my immediate family. I was out in the streets of Baguio, ate dinner at the mall, roam around the Burnham Park, road a boat at the lake, and then strolled until midnight along Session Road. It was not much of a party, but it still is, to date, one of the most memorable birthdays I have ever had.

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My mom conditioned me that for my eighteenth birthday, it would be better to use my 'party money' for other more valuable things and / or experiences, to which I have always agreed. Later when there were only a few months left, my girly-girl self realized that I actually wanted to go with the usual debut celebration. How we managed to pull that poolside celebration in a matter of less than a month would forever be a wonder to me.

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Two years ago, I decided that maybe it would be nice to celebrate my birthday travelling; and so I packed my bag, dragged my sister on a few hours of bus ride, and spent a few days away from the hustle and bustle of our usual life. Everything would have been perfect if only I had not answered that phone call from work while we were on our way back home.

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Last year, for reasons of escaping more than just the busyness and pressure of the days, I booked a solo trip to Singapore four months before my actual birthday. The flight was scheduled right at the morning of my birth date and the return flight was not for five more days. Had I only decided to stay for another week, I would have spent the entire lock-down on a country that was still a stranger to me.

There are a lot of things I learned about myself that year-- that clearly I need not any grand parties nor big gatherings to be able to celebrate the most important day of the year (at least for me) but even so, a year later, I still find myself imagining and looking for ways to be able to make the day special. It may be a curse I can never escape.

Disclaimer: Felt a bit nostalgic, so I might delete this a bit later. Also all photos were taken by me, pre-pandemic.