Every year on my birthday, I always reflect on this quote by Dag Hammarskjöld.
Next to Christmas, my birthday is my favorite time of the year because it's when I can use the card of "it's my birthday, you have to come." It's the best excuse to have all of my favorite people in one place, and we all get to enjoy good food (#casitapatita aka Patet's Feeding Program). I would also usually go back home for the weekend and do the same drill: get all friends and family in one place and celebrate.
2020 and 2021 had different plans for me, though. For all of us.
I remember last year's birthday very clearly. Singapore just transitioned into Phase 2, which allowed people to accept a maximum of five visitors to their home. My birthday fell on a Sunday, and my own family organized a big lunch at home with balloons and cakes and catered food, as if I were home. I joined on FaceTime (with Charlie as my background, who was trying to outrun a Happy Birthday balloon tied to this bum). It was nice to have a family celebration, even though I only joined virtually.
That evening, my friends and cousin asked me what my plans were. "Nothing. Just birthday Zoom calls," I said with a smiley emoji on text, but deep inside, a little part of me was crushed. And they said, "No, we're coming over. We're bringing food and watching the Grand Prix. You're not spending your birthday alone." It wasn't the big usual celebration that I would have, but it wasn't any less heartwarming because it was the first time for me to share a meal with a group of warm bodies after what felt like forever, without needing internet connection. And being Filipino, food is a key language of love.
Not surprisingly, this bunch became my defaults through the pandemic. Working from home at each other's places, cycling through parks when indoor workouts became claustrophobic, Korean dinner deliveries on a whim just because, and weekend game nights. Of course, all within the legal group size limit.
The pandemic stripped me of luxuries; they didn't feel like luxuries at that time, but they definitely do now. No more family meet-up's, whether it's me visiting home or it's them visiting me. No more travels; my goal of visiting more countries than my years of existence has been put on hold. No more live concerts and performances; I've always believed that they're my patronus. None of these through the pandemic. None of these for now.
For now, all I largely have are myself and my relationships. Of course, I have my career and the demands of a global job, too, which didn't let up through the pandemic, but managing that was the easier part. The most difficult parts were dealing with my own self in this forced solitude and fostering relationships through screens.
I was forced to be comfortable in my own solitude. When there were no longer YouTube vides, books, BTS content, and Netflix shows left, the silence was terrifying: all I could hear was my own thoughts. In the silence of my apartment, I realized that the things I was telling myself were not the kindest. And if I told these things to people, I would be the neighborhood Scrooge and end up losing all my friends. I invested in therapy and counseling to learn how to detangle my thoughts, name and tame my emotions, and objectively just narrate the events so I can have a clear mind before responding to them. I started taking better care of myself physically through the right food and exercise (lost 11 kgs in the process). I learned how to raise and take care of a puppy. It's true what they say: by taking care of a dog, you end up taking care of yourself. Charlie is a lifesaver.
I learned how to draw boundaries, both in my personal life and at work, based on the values I uphold. Learning this was a challenge, but I also had to overcome the resulting struggle of thinking of myself as selfish. This is where therapy helped detangle these thoughts and emotions. Through my sessions, I learned the value of being clear with your values. When I'm faced with a choice that threatens these, this is where I start to feel some angst, which if untamed, spirals into other emotions like resentment (for myself and others), depression, and anxiety. So in the end, you draw boundaries not to protect your ego or anyone's ego, but to respect these values. Initially, it felt like selfish self-preservation (which was the other struggle I'm still learning to overcome), but if this is done with compassion, kindness, and vulnerability for both yourself and others, it may well just be a foundation for healthy relationships, especially for those where you don't share the same values.
I learned the power of a safe community, where you can be vulnerable, flourish, and be a better version of you. I think I stayed with my 'defaults' not only for the fun hangouts, which have been a source of sanity, but also for the good habits I developed because of them. Intermittent fasting, homecooked meals, fitness, good sleep, regular workouts, cycling, art weekends. Although it has probably resulted to an unhealthy level of spending for BTS merch and content, I learned how to take better care of myself, discover new things about myself, and actually like myself just a little more just by hanging out with them. I also found a community that 'skips all the small talk' and openly discusses tough topics like vulnerability, courage, simplicity. As long as I don't have night meetings and work commitments, the Thursday Zoom calls with Narnia are something to look forward to as food for the soul, no matter how long my day has been.
I learned how to build the muscle of long-distance relationships (and I'm still learning): being there for loved ones in periods of COVID scares (real and anticipated), emotional breakdowns, virtual weddings and funerals, celebrations for wins both big and small. I remember getting terrible news through text while I was in the middle of a work video call or when I was just waking up. The worst being my cousin-in-law passing away suddenly because of a heart attack. Or when I learned that my very good friend's mom was in critical condition and then passed away a few days later. Or when I got news that family back home tested positive for COVID (they're now on the road to recovery, thank goodness). The issues and tough meetings at work became a walk in the park during these times, and sometimes, even became a respite. Most of my energy was spent on sleepless nights of checking in on people, tapping into networks who can provide assistance, listening to and encouraging loved ones, joining Novena masses on Zoom while trying not to breakdown. There were also good news like setting a new sales record for my brother's gas station businesses, marriage proposals, weddings, weight loss milestones. All this done through a screen. Nothing will ever replace a hug, but we had to learn to trust that family and friends were there for us and re-imagine their warmth despite the distance in both good and bad times... in both good connectivity and bad.
So back to Mr. Dag Hammarskjöld. On my birthday, I'm grateful for all the things I took for granted, the non-luxuries that are now my source of joy. I'm grateful for family, friends, and community. And indeed, the Stoic in me says a big YES and Amor Fati to all that will be. What I'm learning is while we must embrace everything that comes our way, we have the power to choose what we say a bigger YES to.
And I'm learning to choose self-love, self-compassion, values, love for family, community, bringing out the best in you and others, and being there - really being there - for moments that count.
xx from 30-something me,
P.
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