Year 31

The obligatory birthday post.

I.

Last Sunday was my 31st birthday. I woke up in a mood. I wasn’t the least bit excited about the day but I put on makeup and curled my hair anyway. I spritzed on perfume and dressed myself in actual clothes for the first time since being in St. Louis. I didn’t have any plans for the day and it slightly annoyed me anytime I was asked what I was doing to celebrate. “Nothing! Nothing at all!” I wanted to scream. I knew it was an innocent question so I resisted the urge to scream and politely replied, “Nope, no plans for my birthday” and mustered up a half-smile.

The person who’d made my last two birthdays so special and memorable was now the same person responsible for making me feel so empty and sad on this birthday. And yet, he was the only person I wanted to spend the day with. But I couldn’t say that aloud to anyone who knew what had happened between us because surely they would think I’m a special kind of fool. Which, if I’m being honest, is part of the reason why I declined his tempting offer for us to meet up and celebrate my birthday together. 

II.

After getting ready, I drove to the St. Louis Galleria Mall and meandered in and out of stores, trying to distract myself from the misery and sadness that engulfed my being. After about an hour or so of mindless walking, I went to the food court. I didn’t have much of an appetite but the hunger pangs had set in, letting me know the coffee from earlier had long worn off and it was time for sustenance.

It wasn’t until I was about to eat that I realized I’d forgotten my AirPods at the house. FUCK!!! Since I didn’t want to be that crass asshole who watches YouTube videos in public without earphones, I briefly considered wrapping up my meal and trekking to the parking lot to eat in the car, but that seemed like too much trouble. So instead, I sat alone in the food court picking over a Philly cheesesteak sandwich and soggy fries while trying hard not to stare at the young couple a few feet away as they giggled and exchanged kisses between bites of food. UGH!!! Why didn’t I just go eat in the car?

III.

The day after my birthday, a card from my Nana arrived in the mail. The beautiful, timely message inside was inscribed in copper lettering and moved me to tears. It read, in part:

“But I want something more for you, something better, something that can never be taken away… My birthday wish for you is that you’ll always be able to create your own happiness… that you’ll find childlike joy in the most ordinary things… that you’ll see a glimmer of light behind the darkest cloud and a rainbow in the smallest mud puddle.”

It’s the only card I received for my birthday. I keep it at my makeshift work desk and reread it at least once a day. Each time, the line that speaks the loudest to me is “[…] create your own happiness.”

I guess all this time I’ve believed that happiness is a thing I’m supposed to find — with a significant other, or while doing work I’m passionate about, or in friendships with women who hype me up and cheer me on. But I’ve been mistaken. The more I read the card’s message, the more apparent it becomes to me that happiness is not an achieved, permanent state of being as much as it is an experience that I can choose to create over and over again — no matter my relationship status, or job title, or the quality or quantity of my friendships.

And so with that, I’ve decided that year 31 will be the year dedicated to creating my own happiness — moment by moment, day by day.

Until the next cup! ☕️

—Andrea

P.S. Why I left Chicago.

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