Here's what I realized after spending my birthday offline

Since moving away from home for college, I've tried to do something different for my birthday each year. I've visited an art museum with friends, taken a solo trip to South Korea, and spent a birthday living with an urban poor community during a field immersion. This year, I committed an act so radical it would send some Gen Z into a coma: I spent my birthday offline.

My special day falls on one of the year's biggest shopping promo days, often overshadowed by an actress screaming “Shopee 11.11, shop na!” through everyone's phone notifications. I once even heard her scream while I was at church, praying on my birthday. For people in my inner circle, that lady’s voice might be a reminder to keep their schedules free to celebrate with me. For others, it’s probably the Instagram stories of friends whose birthday greetings I repost throughout the day.

Social media has made remembering birthdays almost effortless. I have a terrible memory for dates, but I try to be a good friend. Admittedly, I've sometimes had to look through my old Instagram stories to check whether a friend's birthday was coming up. I couldn't always remember the date, but I could remember having greeted them. Before deactivating my accounts, I didn't want to lose that little reminder system, so I went through my story archives and listed their birthdays in my planner, hoping I could remember them without relying on social media.

When 11.11 came around, I spent the day with my closest friends at our apartment. My roommates and I cooked and decorated the place, finally getting to host the kind of gathering we'd been wanting to have. Most of the friends I invited managed to squeeze into our little place, filling it with more people and laughter than it was probably designed to hold. I also did the most horrifying thing imaginable and mixed several of my friend groups in one room. Luckily, I am surrounded by amazing people who don't need much convincing to get along.

Beyond the friends I invited over, I was also surprised by how many people reached out. Even without an Instagram story reminding them of my birthday, friends and family still messaged and video-called me at midnight and throughout the day. I was happy to hear from them, but I wasn't keeping score. I'd spent the day with the people I love, and that was enough.

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I've been off social media for half a year now, and I have since found a kind of peace in not knowing what everyone is doing all the time, and in knowing that they don't know what I'm doing either. I can let birthdays at an art museum, abroad, or in our tiny apartment happen without feeling the need to document them for everyone else. I've also realized how much of my friends' lives I used to watch from a distance, as though seeing their lives unfold on screen meant I no longer had to reach out. Without realizing it, I had turned their posts into conversations, making me feel connected to people without ever having to talk to them.