Turning Forty-Nine: What Birthdays Mean Now

Birthdays have always felt like markers in time, but since my diagnosis with glioblastoma, each one feels charged in a way I never expected. This year, as I celebrated turning forty-nine, I realized the day was not just about me—it was about everyone I have met on this journey, everyone fighting their own battles, and everyone who carries both hope and fear every day.

I used to see birthdays as simple milestones, a chance to gather, eat, and laugh. Now, the day drips with memories of what has changed and questions about what is yet to come. I think there are many out there—survivors, caregivers, thrivers—who understand exactly what that feels like.

This month has been difficult. For me, October is a reminder that life does not always go according to plan. Facing my second birthday since my diagnosis brought back memories of how much was lost, and how much has been gained. There are moments of gratitude so deep they surprise me, and moments of sadness that wash over me without warning.

But this year, I wanted to see my birthday differently. I wanted to use this day to acknowledge the courage and vulnerability it takes to keep moving forward. I wanted to connect with anyone out there who wakes up each morning wondering whether the "other shoe" will drop. I wanted to hold space for the anxious thoughts that linger and show that it is possible to find joy even while worry sits beside us.

Lessons From Another Year

So, what does a birthday mean after cancer? For me, it means accepting every emotion as valid—pride, joy, anxiety, and grief. It means letting loved ones know when I am struggling. It means forgiving myself for the days when hope is hard to find.

It means realizing that strength sometimes looks like asking for help. Real courage is showing up for each day, unsure of what it will bring, and choosing to reach for connection anyway.

I reflect on the faces and voices that have encouraged me, both in person and through this store. Some sent messages of support, others shared their own stories. These connections have been my lifeline. Birthdays are no longer only reminders of my age; they are reminders of the bonds created when people refuse to give up on each other.

Hope Is a Daily Choice

Not all days are easy, and I do not pretend they are. There are times when I am pulled into statistics, fears, and possibilities I cannot control. But hope is not something I stumble upon once and keep forever. It is something I choose, sometimes every hour.

This year, I marked my birthday not just with candles and wishes, but with gratitude for being part of a community where honest emotions are welcome. My wish for the year ahead is to keep finding meaning in small moments, to reach out to others walking similar paths, and to remind myself that asking for support is one of the bravest things anyone can do.

If you are reading this and feeling alone, you are not. Birthdays bring up heavy emotions for many people facing cancer and other life-altering challenges. Your feelings matter. There is strength in sharing them, and there is room for hope—even if it feels distant some days.

Let us keep moving forward together, holding both our laughter and our tears, and marking every birthday as an act of courage.