It’s Ok to Take Up Space On Your Birthday…and Every Other Day Too

For most of my life, my birthday was complicated.

Not dramatic. Not traumatic. Just quietly heavy.

It was a day where I often felt unseen, even when I was surrounded by people. A day where I showed up how I was supposed to show up. Where I did what was expected. Where I shaped myself around tradition, other people’s preferences, and cultural norms instead of my own.

Be the center of attention.
Let people sing to you.
Accept the plan.
Smile. Be grateful. Don’t make it awkward.

The problem was, none of that ever really fit me.

I don’t like being the center of attention. I don’t want to be sung to. I don’t want to celebrate in ways that feel performative or obligatory. For years, I tried to make it work anyway. Forcing a square peg into a round hole and wondering why I felt drained instead of celebrated.

This year, I stopped trying to make myself fit.

Instead of hoping people would just know what I wanted, I named it.

I made the confetti cake I actually enjoy.
I shared a simple list of things that would feel meaningful to me.
I asked for letters instead of gifts.
I told my friends, clearly and kindly, how I wanted to spend the day.

Not as a demand.
Not as a test.
Just as an invitation.

“This is what would feel good to me. If you want to join me, I’d love to have you.”

And something important happened.

It gave people the chance to show up for me.

No guessing.
No mind-reading.
No unspoken expectations.

Some people met that invitation fully. Some showed up in their own way. And instead of spiraling or making meaning out of it, I noticed something new…I could hold it.

Because here’s the part we don’t say out loud enough:

It is okay to ask for what you want.

It’s also okay if you don’t want to plan. It’s okay if you love being surprised. It’s okay if you don’t need to spell things out because the people around you already know you deeply and show up consistently. There isn’t one “right” way to be celebrated.

The point isn’t control.
The point is authenticity.

For me, authenticity meant naming my needs out loud instead of swallowing them. For someone else, authenticity might mean letting go completely and trusting the people in their life. Both are valid. Both are allowed.

What matters is that you’re not disappearing from your own life to keep everyone else comfortable.

Here’s something else I learned this year:

When you are clear about what matters to you and someone doesn’t follow through, it can hurt… but it’s also information.

It tells you who can meet you where you are.
It tells you who struggles with that.
It tells you where your expectations and reality don’t quite line up.

And information isn’t punishment. It’s clarity.

Taking responsibility for your life doesn’t mean becoming hardened or demanding or self-centered. It means taking up appropriate space. It means allowing yourself to be known. It means trusting that you can handle disappointment without abandoning yourself.

This was the first year I didn’t try to be someone else on my birthday.

And it was the most grounded, meaningful celebration I’ve had, not because everything went perfectly, but because I showed up honestly.

You’re allowed to do that.
On your birthday.
And in the rest of your life too.