My birthday this year was supposed to be THE GREATEST.  For starters, I was going to be in L.A. doing a show.  Plus, my birthday was on a Monday, so I’d have the night off. And the icing on the birthday cake was that my sister was going to fly out to celebrate with me.  It was shaping up to be the Birthday of Birthdays.

But…Covid.  So instead, I spent my birthday unemployed, alone, and relegated to my house.  Obviously my birthday stunk.

(Except that it totally didn’t.) 

Here’s the thing.  I love parties.  I have a blog called “Adventures in Hostessville,” for Pete’s sake.  But a BIRTHDAY party, for MYSELF…? 

That’s…complicated.

This isn’t something I write about much, but I have some mental health issues.  The reason I keep it on the down-low is that there’s still a lot of stigma (and also because one of my many issues is that I don’t think people want to hear about my many issues.)  But, I’m a social introvert with generalized anxiety, depression,change disorder, body dysmorphia, and just for funsies, hypnogogic hallucinations and misophonia.  Virtually every social setting, even one I enjoy, is exhausting for me.

But I love parties!  And I especially love HOSTING parties, because if I’m the hostess then I can control the entire thing.  (Need for control is another flower in my Bouquet of Symptoms.)   If I’m the hostess, I know who is going to be there, I know I won’t have to talk to strangers, I know I don’t have to leave my house, and I know I can schedule it to end whenever I want.  Because I ALSO know that after about two and a half hours, my anxiety will flare up and I‘ll have to go cry secretly in the bathroom while my friends spin records in the parlor. 

Additionally, I tend to throw ridiculous, old-timey, theme parties, and those sorts of gatherings have a focus.  If I throw Library Party, or a Midnight Chafing Dish Supper, or Mexican-Christmas-Eve-in-July, the focus is on the decorations, the food, the games, the glittering guests, and MAYBE even partly on my outfit.  But definitely not on ME.  

And that’s why birthday parties are so hard. 

Here’s how I imagine a “normal” person’s thought process:  I should get all my favorite people together and do something fun to celebrate my big day!

Here’s MY thought process: (GIANT BREATH) Oh no.  Okay.  I should have a party.  Should I have it at my house?  I love to have parties at my house, but if I invite all the people I like, they won’t fit.  What if I leave someone out and they feel bad? Or what if I invite someone who only says yes because they feel obligated?  WHAT IF NO ONE ACTUALLY LIKES ME? Plus, in my house I’ll spend all night worrying that my neighbors are bothered by the noise.  I could have it outside, but then it might be too loud for OTHER neighbors.  And it’s May in Minnesota; there will probably still be snow on the ground.  So I should have it someplace else. 

But I don’t know any places because I always entertain at home.  What if I pick a place that everybody hates?  What if I pick a place that’s too crowded and we have to stand and shout at each other all night?  What if we manage to get a table, but then someone comes late and there’s no room for them?  What if there’s plenty of room but the staff stare at us all night because we’re not spending enough money?  What if we spend TOO much money and then I’m worried I made my friends go someplace they hate and spend money they don’t have?  Also my birthday is May the Fourth (be with you), so I know everybody is just counting the minutes until they can go home and celebrate their REAL favorite friend, Jar Jar Binks. 

And oh dear lord, PRESENTS.  I hate anyone to spend money on me, but if I say “no presents” then I’m implying that I think they wanted to get me a present which they probably didn’t.  And what if they bring a present anyway?  Then I have to open it in front of people and that makes me want to throw up all of my intestines.  I could make it be over more quickly, except that I have this obsessive thing about not ripping the paper and EVERYONE IS LOOKING AT ME THIS IS THE WORST AND …

“Oh, this keychain is exactly perfect, thank you!  I love it so much!”

…and I do, except how much did you spend, it was too much, you can’t afford it, unless you picked it up out a pile of trash on the street.  Did you pick it up out of a pile of trash on the street?  Because honestly, that’s where people have found a lot of my most favorite gifts, except you probably didn’t, you probably went to a store or OH GOD DID YOU ORDER IT ONLINE because there’s the environmental footprint and either way you also had to buy gift wrap,  because unlike me you clearly do not wrap things in 15-year-old crumply paper, and here you are watching me carefully fold that paper back up and thinking “JUST RIP IT ALREADY, I need to get home yet tonight, and Jar Jar Binks isn’t getting any younger!!!”

And THAT’S what is happening inside my head all of the time. 

Don’t get me wrong, I still love having a birthday party; it’s just that there’s always a lot of attendant stress. 

Except this year.  This year was AWESOME.  And in case any of you anticipating your own isolation birthday are wondering how I did it, I will tell you.

I got up at 7 am and hung streamers.  I think everyone should hang up streamers for their birthday.  Or any day.  Even if you live alone.  ESPECIALLY if you live alone.   You’ll feel like a princess, or a knight, or a Pegasus/unicorn/jousting-pole/carnival-ride. Whichever you identify with most.

My parents called on my birthday minute (8:05 a.m.), and while we chatted I baked caramel rolls.  Then I ate five in one sitting, because who was I saving them for? 

I opened my birthday cards!  The USPS is struggling, and so are we, so sending cards nails two birds with one stone.  And several of the cards were homemade, which addressed both the “stores are closed” issue, and the “your friend is a delightful nut-job who panics if you spend money” issue.  THAT’S FOUR BIRDS, PEOPLE!  Exempli gratia this card my aunt made with my baby picture, and this fine likeness of silent film star Roscoe “Fatty” Arbuckle drawn on recycled cardboard.  (My friends know their audience.)

I checked Facebook to get my millions of birthday wishes from family/friends/casual acquaintances/near strangers. There seemed to be even more than usual. I don’t know whether it’s because people are really invested in humanity right now, or because people are bored out of their skulls, but either way, it was terrific.  (Even the weird one from my downstairs neighbor who seemed a little confused about what day it was.  Quarantine’ll do that.)

There were also phone calls and emails and video greetings.  And my friend David showed up on the back deck with a mask and a bouquet of flowers, and sang me both parts of the Miss Piggy-Gene Kelly duet from The Muppet Show, WITH choreography.  (David obviously got a leftover caramel roll.)

Then, I opened presents. 

I’d like to clarify here. I LOVE getting presents; there’s just a lot of anxiety that goes with opening them in front of people.  But that was mostly avoided this year, because 1) people just dropped them off, and 2) the majority of them were groceries, which meant at least I didn’t have to worry that anyone was making a special trip just for me.  By the end of the day, I’d amassed homemade soup, local bratwurst, Old Dutch Rip-L Chips with Top the Tater, a whole buffet of Mexican groceries from Cinco de Mayo, and a cabbage.  (My friends really get me.) 

There was also another amazing gift; this being the brainchild of the Fatty Arbuckle portraitist.  He dropped off a box of books and movies for me to borrow, just things he owned that he thought I’d enjoy.  No money was spent, no resources were used, and I didn’t have to throw up my intestines OR find permanent space on my shelves. Can this please be a regular standard birthday thing?  The Lending Library Present? Because it’s the BEST.

My folks came over (with the aforementioned chips and dip) around the same time another friend happened to stop by (with the aforementioned Mexican food.)  We all sat in opposite corners of the yard and tested our knowledge with a stack of Isaac Asimov Super Quizzes clipped out of the newspaper.  (HAVE YOU EVER HEARD OF SUCH A RAGER?  It’s a wonder the neighbors didn’t call the police. )

After they went home (also with leftover caramel rolls) I made my favorite birthday treat, Rhubarb Dream Dessert.  This was my first dessert of the day because caramel rolls are breakfast.  Also, rhubarb is a vegetable, so this dessert is obviously extraordinarily healthy.  I decorated it with candles stuck into pink Bakelite camel-shaped candle holders, because I am who I am.

As night was falling things got REAL crazy.  To wit, I made tissue paper flowers.  I think you will agree they are almost heart-stoppingly beautiful.  

I kept the wild times going by putting fresh batteries in the porch lights so they’d be extra-bright (or just extra-not-quite-so-dim) and played a record whose album cover MATCHED THE LIGHTS, (which is practically the same as being at a nightclub in L.A.)

I watched Swing Time with Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers.  I figured I’d better watch it because someone bought it for me JUST KIDDING IT WAS TOTALLY FREE IN MY LENDING LIBRARY BIRTHDAY PRESENT. 

And then, I fell asleep on the couch.

So the answer to “How Did I Do It” was that…I didn’t.  My friends and family did  And seeing them show up in droves, in both big ways and small, without me even bribing them with cake, was what made this birthday so fantastic. They didn’t have to; in fact they had the perfect excuse to get out of it (i.e. global pandemic.) But they did it anyway, and I finally figured out, after decades, that maybe the people who celebrate my birthday aren’t being FORCED to like me.  Maybe, just maybe, they celebrate my birthday because they already do. 

Now, I know the day I had isn’t everyone’s idea of a swell birthday.  But for the time being we’re going to have to make do with streamers and lending libraries and cabbage.  But also friends.  Lots and lots of friends (and family/acquaintances/near strangers) who care enough (from a safe distance) to make things special.  Because that’s what birthdays are all about, Charlie Brown.

And then next year…? Party on, friends.