The Unexpected Lesson I Learned When I Baked My Own Birthday Cake

In the days leading up to my birthday, I spent some time reflecting on how much I love going all out for friends and loved ones on their birthdays or other special occasions — that feeling of connecting to another person’s heart satisfies such a basic human need to feel a sense of belonging.

But when it comes to myself, rarely do I put in as much love and effort to connect with my own heart.

I’ve been writing a lot over the past few weeks and the layers that I’m uncovering and discovering are all leading towards a place where a deep love and appreciation for myself are at the center. It feels so uncomfortable to admit that to myself let alone the world — but here’s what I’m learning to be true — I can’t expect anyone else to love me and treat me well if I don’t know what that actually feels like. And I’ll never really know what it feels like if I don’t do it for myself first.

With that in mind I decided this year I’d pour all the love I normally pour into others into myself on my birthday.

So I started the day off slowly with a long mediation, followed by some writing. I then took myself on a solo date to one of my favorite museums and wandered around the exhibits, taking in the beautiful works of art as I listened to my museum playlist filled with my favorite songs. As my eyes took in the vibrant colors and images, and my ears took in the eclectic sounds of the music, I felt every nook and cranny within me start to fill up again.

On the way home I stopped at my favorite cheese shop and bought some supplies and came home and made a beautiful little cheeseboard on one of the slate boards I have resting against a wall in the corner of my kitchen. I took the time to cut up the different pieces and arrange it on a board, fill in the spaces with crackers and nuts and dried fruit. And at the end I used soapstone to write a festive “happy birthday” along the bottom of the board — because, why not?

And I made myself a cake — a full on, great British bake-off worthy (okay maybe not that good but close) birthday cake — vanilla-lemon sponge filled with a fresh blueberry and lemon zest compote and iced with a lemon zest infused mascarpone, crème fraîche and whipped cream frosting.

For me — someone who almost never bakes — the act of pushing past the internal stories like “ugh — this is so much work to do for myself” and “what are people going to think when they hear you baked a whole cake just for you” — and taking the time to be present to the process of baking a cake from scratch, pulling out my mom’s piping bag from the high shelf in the pantry and decorating the cake, and even candying the lemons myself — was the ultimate act of self-love.

We spend so much of our lives and our love on the people around us, often losing pieces of ourselves in the process. It’s interesting to me that a series of simple acts of love I would have easily given to others in my life with an open heart, required a lot more intentionality and courage to give to myself. Ultimately I found that I felt the same joy in using my time and energy to plan and move through a day that was designed for me and by me, as I have when I’ve spent the time and energy doing it for others.

Turns out the most meaningful gift I received on my birthday (besides the luscious lemon cake I got to savor at the end of the day) was a new understanding that the ability to shower the same love and kindness on myself as I do on others has the capacity to liberate me from the need to look for love and worthiness from others, and it allows the love and joy I do experience through my external relationships to be the icing on an already delicious cake.