I turned 57 recently.

I spent the day alone and not many people messaged me (my father forgot, but that’s par for the course) and I had a good cry and I was sad.

It was not a happy birthday.

There. I said the thing.

Now I’m going to tell you why this is OK and why it should be normalised.

I believe there are days when the veil between life and death is thinnest – when we have easier and clearer access to thoughts and feelings that may bury themselves deep on most other days; when we reflect on the profundity and beauty and terror of our human lives; when we are more in tune with the world’s rhythms and our place within them.

Our birthday every year is one of those days. For those of us closer to the end of our lives than the beginning, it can be a day of reflection, or fear, or regret, or renewed determination (or all of these). For those who have lost someone dear to them, a birthday can sharpen sorrow. For a teenager stepping over the threshold of adulthood it can be terrifying and exhilarating. For a child it can be a day filled with joy and excitement.

Birthdays can usher in big feelings. Profound feelings. This year, for me, it was a lonely day complicated by missing someone very much and having to sit in the anxiety of not knowing if they were OK. It was a day of reflecting on a year that had gone by so quickly I had barely grasped the days as they sped past. It was a day of longing for closeness with friends but wanting to be by myself, in the safety of my home. It was a time to reflect on 57 years, some spent well, some not so much, and to wonder how many more I would have.

I suspect birthdays are complicated for many people. And that’s OK, and normal.

I wonder if, next time someone has a birthday, instead of being prompted by Facebook then messaging a quick ‘Happy birthday! Hope you have a great day and are spoilt rotten!’ then ticking that task off, we might get a little more curious.

We could ask things like: How are you feeling today? I’m aware birthdays can bring up big feelings, both good and bad.  How is it for you? What are you doing today? Are you marking the day in any way, or do you prefer not to?

That, to me, seems so much more authentic.

Perhaps we could ask next time a friend has a birthday: Is it a happy birthday for you? And perhaps, if the answer is no, we could let that be OK.