On my 22nd Birthday,

I feel happy, free, confused, and lonely at the same time.

On the 23rd of January, I celebrated my 22nd birthday, my first ever without my family. The first of many events the following day was watching Les Miserables in Liverpool. It was GREAT and I’ve wanted to watch it for so long. I cried so much at the end. The production and the casts, especially Fontine, were exceptional; beneran merinding dari awal sampe akhir. There’s just something about musicals and theatre — it scratches the right part of my brain and will always have a special place in my heart.

From that, midnight hits. I was eating a hamburger when my friends sang “Happy Birthday” to me. It was odd, like something was missing, yet at the same time, everything was perfect. My phone was full of messages. I thought about three things: (1) I’m so grateful for my friends. Thank you for celebrating my birthday. Thank you for being as excited — if not more — as I am. (2) As you grow older, your circle gets smaller. (3) The time zone sucks. It wasted so much time. I feel like I only have half a day to celebrate my birthday. I feel so detached from my family. Why am I so far away? Why is it already 7 AM in Jakarta? I want my mom.

I used to define my value in people congratulating my birthday. I remember my friends’ birthdays and expect them to do the same for me (even typing this down make me cringe lol). Nowadays, I realise that the number of happy birthdays I get is not equal to the love from people around me. I’m in a good place, surrounded by people I love and the ones who — hopefully — actually love me. I’m at peace with myself, and I’m happy. That was enough. It doesn’t bother me when people don’t give me the same love I give them. See, maybe that’s the thing about growing up. You realised that love is not reciprocal. When you do something for someone, you give without expecting anything in return. You still love them anyway. But sometimes it makes me sad when people you thought were going to be in your life forever were not there anymore or when friends grow apart and become acquaintances, and I think birthdays are one of those times when reality hits because you used to celebrate it with them.

There is no friendship, no love like that of the parent for the child.

Bunda texted. Kakak, kado ulang tahunnya udah ditransfer ya. I wanted to say it’s okay; you don’t have to give me money. I said it before. She’d say buat traktir temen-temennya, gaenak kalo nggak. Buat kakak jajan, makan yang banyak. I’d say I’m perfectly content. My friends don’t care about these things. You don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine. I don’t need your money. You’ve given me too much; you’ve sacrificed too much. Instead, I said thank you, it’s too much. My friends don’t care about these things; I don’t need to buy them anything. You should’ve just given me x amount. She said gapapa, bonus buat kakak. My heart hurts. She probably didn’t ask my dad for this money. How long did she stay up all night baking? I don’t want her to do that for me. I didn’t say that because she will cry.

Bunda & Ayah called when I was on the train back to Newcastle. I wanted to cry, but I held it in. I miss you guys, I thought. I can’t say it. They wished me a happy birthday. My mom wore makeup. To celebrate you, she said. Ayah gave me virtual kisses then said you look tired kakak, istirahat dulu sana. Nanti ditelfon lagi. I wanted to say no, don’t hang up. I want to stay with you. You won’t call me again. Instead, I said okay. Bye. It wasn’t long enough. It never is.

— Then there are friends that become family.

It was 12 when I arrived at Newcastle. I bought some pizza and coke for dinner. I went home. When I opened the kitchen door, my friends were there singing “Happy Birthday to You” with cakes and gifts. Knowing my friends, I knew they would surprise me, but I thought they would do it at dinner, so I was pleasantly surprised. It was much more than I imagined it. Kirain bakal dibeliin kue aja, ternyata dibikinin red velvet cake yang emang gue mau huhuhu. Emang udah ngomongin ini sama Aisha dari lama, tapi karena kita abis dari Liverpool jadi kirain gak bakal dibikinin. And it’s so big!! Nuha also made kimchi jjigae which is literally my current favourite food (the one made explicitly by her) because I can’t stop thinking about it. It was so good. Kenapa kepikiran aja bikin kimchi jjigae juga aahh mau nangis.Udah gitu ternyata dikasih cake juga sama fossibs and others — jujur gak nyangka, because I’m so far away, it’s kinda hard to do, and even the effort made me want to cry.

I made a wish and blew the candle. They cheered. All the cameras were at me. So much attention, I’m embarrassed — in a good way. What to do? I’m so happy. I’m so loved. Do I deserve this?

They brought out the gift. I opened it. A Kindle??? To say I’m shocked is a bit of an understatement. I had wanted it for so long, but it was so expensive. Is it ok for me to take this? I’m a bit scared. How did they even think of this? When did they buy it? It’s very thoughtful; I might cry. I’m so happy. I don’t even know how to use it yet. OMG. I really do have the best support system. Thank you. Thank you. Did I say thank you?

Oh, there’s another gift? What? It’s a painting set. 48 colours? With an easel? I don’t even have one at home. I missed painting so much — I’m not good, but it’s a stress reliever. Now I can do it here. It’s beyond my expectation, not that I have any. I just want a birthday wish from him, atau ikut patungan beli kue juga udah cukup banget. It’s so big!! Is it expensive? I’m scared I’m burdening him. Am I? I don’t want to ask him that; I might sound ungrateful. I think I didn’t look that excited. I am; I’m just shy. I don’t know what to do. I feel like my heart is going to burst. Thank you for taking the time to listen to my stories, thank you for noticing my struggles. Thank you for knowing me without me having to explain myself. I’m so happy. Did I say I’m so happy? Did he know how thankful I am? I wish he understands because I’m not good at expressing my feelings. I wish I am. I’m trying.

We ate the cake and jjigae. The red velvet cake was so delicious. Udah gausah diomongin lagi jjigaenya, literally out of this world. Why is it so addicting? We talked and laughed some more. My belly was full. My heart was full. I wish I could capture this moment and put it in a jar to visit later. I can’t, so I write instead. Without my family around, I thought I would feel lonely in a room full of people — which I feel quite a lot. But I’m not. It felt different, but that doesn’t make it any less perfect.

But when the room was full, I had no space to think about anything else. Now that I’m all alone in my room, all I think about is how I wish I could hug bunda, ayah, dan adek. He will tell me anak cantik ayah udah gede ya like he always does. He will say kakak mau kado apa? She will say aduh bunda udah tua ya like she always does. They will sing me happy birthday, bring a cake to my room, and we will blow the candles together. Bunda & ayah will hug and kiss me, and reluctantly, after being forced, adek will too. She will say selamat ulang tahun, incess tua like she always does. We will go out to eat lunch (because my family rarely eat out for dinner), or maybe bunda will cook something. I will say bunda bikini bubur merah dong and she will make it for me. Since morning, the landline will blow up, and my mom will say kakak, ada telepon dari om/tante/teteh/nini nih ayo turun. The doorbell will ring a million times. It’s gojek, or drivers delivering gifts, or my cousins, or my friends.

Am I going to feel like this on every birthday after I move out? I don’t want to grow up. I’m not too fond of changes.

How can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22?

Taylor Swift said it best. The more you grow up, the less you know about everything around you. 18-year old me knew exactly what she wanted to do. Now, as I blow the “22” shaped candles on my birthday, I’m not so sure anymore. There’s a lyric in Nothing New that said,

“How long will it be cute, all this crying in my room? When you can’t blame it on my youth and roll your eyes with affection.”

I think it resonates with the feeling of the early 20s very well. You are stepping into adulthood — you have been for a while. But this year, for me especially, there are so many changes that reinforce that feeling. And it’s scary. You are an adult. You have responsibilities; people expect you to show up and be the best version of yourself. People rely on you. You can’t sit back and watch. You are the player. You are plunged into a deep hole, and there’s no safety net anymore. You have to build new relationships. You start to have new, different conversations with your parents — about money, love, marriage, and that sort of thing. It’s uncomfortable, but you have to. Things that your parents do for you now are yours to do. And you never realise how much it is. How overwhelming it can be. You wonder how your parents can do all that flawlessly. People ask you what you’re going to do. You don’t even know what you want. Is this why people have an existential crisis? I’m not even 25 yet.

Regardless, I think that’s part of growing up. As a human, there’s always something to worry about, something to be scared of, something we have to overcome. And so, on my birthday, I just want to focus on the countless blessings; I am alive and well, my parents are healthy, my bed is warm, I’ve finished all the assignments, there’s a never-ending cake supply for the next week, I’m showered with love from people around me, and they accept me for who I am, I get to have so many holidays while I’m here, I can experience all four seasons, laugh until my stomach hurts, read as many books as I want, and I’m content. I think middle-school me would be so proud of 22-year-old me. She would never think she would get to learn to love herself.