For as long as I can remember, I have never liked my birthday.
When people would ask me what I wanted to do or how I wanted to celebrate, I was filled with an overwhelming sense of dread. The idea of having a party or planning an event centred entirely around me made me deeply uncomfortable. It felt performative, almost egotistical, and completely out of sync with who I am. Even as a kid, when birthdays were supposed to be magical and exciting, I remember wishing the day would just pass like any other.
For most of my life, I thought this was something I needed to fix about myself. Birthdays are supposed to be fun, right? You’re supposed to look forward to them, count down the days, post the pictures, make a whole thing out of it. That’s what it looks like for everyone else, at least, that’s what it looks like online. Social media has a way of turning birthdays into these perfectly curated highlight reels: big groups of friends, elaborate dinners, surprise parties, candles, captions about gratitude and growth. And when you don’t feel that same excitement, it’s hard not to wonder if something is wrong with you.
But the older I’ve gotten, the more I’ve realized that a lot of people feel this way, especially those of us who are more introverted, or who just don’t enjoy being the center of attention. That dread I used to feel? It’s actually pretty common. We just don’t talk about it as openly, because it doesn’t fit the narrative of what a birthday is supposed to look like.
There is this unspoken pressure tied to birthdays. You should go out. You should celebrate big. You should make the most of “your special day.” And while that idea comes from a good place—celebrate yourself, you deserve it—it can feel exhausting rather than exciting. For me, that version of a birthday always sounded more like an obligation than a celebration. The expectation to perform happiness, to be “on,” to entertain, to respond to messages all day… It’s a lot. And I always felt that my lack of excitement came off as ungrateful. If people are trying to celebrate me, shouldn’t I “suck it up” and at least try to enjoy myself?
But the truth is, not everyone feels celebrated and happy in those moments. Some people feel overwhelmed. Some feel anxious. Some feel disconnected from the version of themselves they think they’re supposed to present. And some of us just… don’t enjoy it. And that’s okay.
What I’ve come to understand is that there is no “right” way to feel about your birthday. Some people genuinely love it, and I think that’s great. There’s something really beautiful about embracing yourself and celebrating your milestones so openly and unapologetically. But it’s not a requirement. You don’t have to force yourself into that experience just because it’s what you see around you.
For me, celebrating myself doesn’t look like one big day; it looks like small, quiet moments throughout the year. It’s spending time with people I care about in ways that feel natural and comfortable. It’s revisiting hobbies I love or discovering new ones. It’s treating myself to things that make me happy, even if they’re small or seemingly insignificant. It’s creating a life that feels good on an ordinary Tuesday, not just on one specific day.
One of the best things I’ve done for myself is surround myself with people who understand that. People who don’t push or guilt me into celebrating in a way that doesn’t feel right, but instead respect my boundaries. Whether that means a low-key dinner, a quiet day, or no celebration at all. That kind of understanding is so much more meaningful to me than any party could ever be.
So, if you’re someone who doesn’t like your birthday, I want you to know that there is absolutely nothing wrong with you. You’re not ungrateful, you’re not boring, and you’re definitely not alone.
You’re just someone who experiences celebration differently—and that’s more than okay.