The Sacred Weight of Birthdays

Birthdays. Some light candles. Some light fires.

For some, a birthday is a spotlight, a moment to shine, to soak in attention, to feel deeply loved, celebrated, and seen. For others, it's a day they’d rather skip altogether, haunted by grief, anxiety, aging, or the quiet reminder that none of us get out of this life alive.

And then, there are the ones like me, those who see birthdays not as a solo act, but as a symphony of everything and everyone that makes life worth living. The people. The passions. The places that feel like home. The wounds. The triumphs. The losses. The love.

I don’t celebrate my birthday to be the center of attention. I celebrate it to center what matters.

I bring my chosen family, my friends, my community, my interests, and my healing into one sacred space. I make them part of that day, not because I need the spotlight, but because I know that everything I am is built from the bricks of everyone who ever walked with me, loved me, left me, taught me, broke me, or lifted me.

And if we’re being honest, I don’t want to get older either. But here’s the truth: Aging is a mindset, not a sentence.

You can celebrate your 29th birthday ten times if you want. You can claim your own number. It’s your life. Your rules. Your story to write. Society may track the years on your ID, but only you get to decide how old your soul feels. Time is a concept. Presence is the gift.

Because birthdays? They aren’t just parties. They are portals.

A birthday is a reflection, a mirror held up to the last 365 days of your life. A sacred moment to acknowledge what you’ve lived through, what you’ve lost, what you’ve learned, and who you’re becoming. It’s a moment of pause in the chaos. A reset button. A checkpoint for the soul.

It’s a chance to honor the faces you no longer see but will never forget. To grieve what didn’t last and to celebrate what did. To say thank you, not just to others, but to yourself, for still being here.

We live in a world that’s obsessed with youth and productivity. But we forget, getting older is a privilege denied to many.

Your birthday is not a burden. It is a badge. You made it. You’re here. You’ve survived things you never thought you would. That deserves more than cake. That deserves reverence.

So no, you don’t have to post about it. You don’t have to party. You don’t have to respond to every “happy birthday” text if your heart is heavy.

But you do owe it to yourself to pause. To feel. To reflect. To look at the year you’ve lived through, messy, magical, brutal, beautiful, and say:

“Damn. I did that.”

Birthdays are not just about growing older. They are about growing wiser. About stepping more fully into the person you’re here to become.

Let your birthday be your altar. Let it be your mirror. Let it be your playground. Let it be your funeral for all the versions of you that had to die for the newest version to be born.

Because this is not just the anniversary of your birth. It’s the celebration of your rebirth. Year after year after year.

So light the candle. Or light the fire.

But whatever you do, make it mean something.

xoxo Vie