Birthday in Quarantine

This post was written throughout the day on my birthday last Thursday, which I spent entirely at home due to self-quarantining. I hope you are finding routine, calm, and comfort in the chaos of what is going on in this world right now, my dear friend. You are not alone, and we will all get through this together.

Today I woke up to what has to be the strangest birthday morning to date. 42 hours into a self-quarantine. I haven’t left the house yet to breathe in fresh air, which I now realize is needed for the soul. Celebrating my birthday with loved ones usually means so much to me, but with everything going on in the world it doesn’t feel like the most important thing right now. I have a feeling of calm and gratitude. I see today as an opportunity to make the best of the situation before me. I refuse to wallow just because my birthday looks different than I thought it would. I want to embody this attitude more in my life, not just today.

I started the day by ordering myself a slice of chocolate cake, a mini key lime cheesecake bar, and a peanut butter cookie from Magnolia’s bakery. I lit candles on the cake and blew them out. I shared it on my Instagram for my blog @overflowingwithgrace and felt more connected to others. It uplifted my spirits to share a moment of joy I created for myself.

My boyfriend reheated some leftover pizza for me for lunch.

My friends Penny and Jay called and sang Happy Birthday to me.

I took a one hour nap without guilt or regret.

I heated up kimchi jigae (stew) that my mom made for me in bulk at the beginning of the week.

I had an impromptu call with coworkers and we prayed for each other.

I ordered Italian food from a nice restaurant for delivery and watched a few episodes of Parks and Rec.

I read my three-year old niece children’s books I found online for 45 minutes over video chat. My sister had warned me that she wasn’t sure if my niece could stay focused enough for me to read to her, but I got through several children’s books until my voice started to feel strained and I read our last book twice. She was captivated and focused the whole time. Her excitement was contagious. One of the books I read was called “The Good Egg.” I paused at the part of the story where the goody-two-shoes main character egg realizes it’s okay to tend to its cracks in its shell that formed because of the stress of trying to be “good” (“good enough,” I’ll add).

“I really tried to focus on myself and what I really needed. I took walks, I read books. I floated in the river. I wrote in my journal, I found simple moments to be quiet. I breathed in. I breathed out. I even started painting. For once, I found time for me. And guess what! Little by little, the cracks in my shell started to heal.

My head no longer felt scrambled. I started to feel like myself again.”

-excerpt from The Good Egg by Jory John

I couldn’t help but get a lump in my throat thinking of how relevant this children’s story was for what we are all currently going through right now. We have all been going full speed ahead in our lives, for too long, and I don’t know about you but my head has sometimes felt a little scrambled. What would it feel like to “feel like myself again”? I think it would mean to play and laugh, and write and journal without expectation of sounding eloquent or finding meaning in it all. To relish in having the full attention of my niece, and being able to soothe her with my voice and take a load off of my sister for part of the day. To have an unrushed period to be present and deliberate in how I choose to spend my time. To think less about what others want or need me to be, and just do what I feel like is right for me in the moment.

It all felt so mundane, so slow. But there was, is, something special in the collective of all these little moments.

A calm, a certainty. It made sense to spend my birthday this way. Seeing each moment for what it was and allowing it to be special without the pressure for it to be. Not needing exciting plans to make my birthday seem worthwhile. It was nice, and that was enough.

It was another day. How special.