Last month, I turned another year older.

The feeling of panic that comes around my birthday—

“Am I really going to be this age?!”

—seems to have been with me every year since my mid-twenties.

At this point, I’ve come to think that maybe this is just how it’s going to be from now on.

Maybe I’ll feel this way for the rest of my life.

For a little over ten years now, I’ve made a rule for myself about how to spend my birthday:

I spend it alone, doing exactly what I want to do, wholeheartedly.

I decided that my birthday would be a day when I could follow through on whatever I wanted to do, 100 percent, without compromise.

Because I realized that this was probably the best gift I could give myself.

Since I don’t have to worry about anyone else, I can do whatever I genuinely feel like doing that day.

Even if I suddenly think,

“Actually, I really want to do this!”

Even if it’s something that other people might find boring.

I don’t have to care.

I simply spend the day doing whatever I truly, absolutely want to do.

Ever since I started doing this, my birthdays have felt happier than they did before.

And for the past three years or so, whenever I ask myself,

“What do I want to do?”

the answer that comes back is:

“I want to create something.”

As someone who spent most of her life working as an office employee, I feel like there is nothing happier than that.

I also find myself wanting to show myself something interesting that I’ve created as soon as I possibly can.

Of course, creating something doesn’t always go smoothly.

So in that sense, I often end the day feeling a little frustrated and unsatisfied.

And yet, I still feel incredibly happy to have spent the day that way.

That said, this year, when I went to bed the night before my birthday, I thought:

“I want to create something. But I also want to have a cream soda first thing in the morning.”

So, at 7 a.m. on my birthday, I went to Komeda Coffee, enjoyed a cream soda, had breakfast, and then went home and spent the rest of the day creating, just as I normally do.

It made me incredibly happy.

Maybe the younger me wouldn’t have been able to do that.

Maybe she wouldn’t have been able to order a cream soda first thing in the morning.

As I realized that I really had changed in my own way, I savored this little bit of personal growth—something that probably means absolutely nothing to anyone else—and celebrated the beginning of another year of my life.

But even as I write something that sounds so grown-up, I can’t help but wonder:

Maybe, in the end, I’m able to feel this way because I have my family.

Even as an adult, I have a family who celebrates my birthday with me.

What would I feel if I were truly alone?

Would I still be able to feel this kind of incredible happiness spending my birthday by myself?

I still don’t know.

I’m not that strong.

So I think I would probably feel lonely.

I think I would feel the loneliness.

I can’t shake that feeling.

The time will come when these birthdays spent alone, and the happiness I find in them, will eventually come to an end.

Until then, I’ll keep living, hoping that this time will still be here next year.

October 4, 2026

mienaimonotachi

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