My birthday is on Christmas Eve. Here is everything I learned
Having a birthday on Christmas Eve in the Philippines feels like arriving at a party where everyone insists they are thrilled you came, right before diving back into their annual triathlon of cooking, wrapping, and complaining about traffic. You slip quietly into the day, easily drowned out by the holiday spirit, a soft notification behind the country’s loudest celebration. You are in the frame, but the frame is not yours. It took years to realize this was not tragic. It was simply the fine print of sharing a birthday with the nation’s favorite holiday.
As a kid, I kept searching for the right time slot. Morning felt premature. Afternoon felt like running into oncoming traffic. Evening was hopeless since everyone was mentally preparing for Noche Buena. No matter when I tried, someone was chopping, ironing, or wrapping gifts like they had minutes to live. Greetings still arrived, but usually mid-sauce stir or mid-decoration tweak. The day never paused long enough to feel like a birthday. It was a small spark swallowed by a citywide countdown.
Midnight carried a different kind of flair. The countdown began. Voices rose. A phone camera trembled into position. The clock struck 12. Merry Christmas erupted, followed by a quick happy birthday to me and another to my uncle born on the 25th. Our greetings stacked like buy one, take one promos. Then Christmas pulled everyone forward without looking back.
Then came everyone’s favorite punchline. “Do you get double gifts?” People delivered it with the confidence of someone convinced they discovered a cheat code. I perfected a polite smile, the kind that contains years of receiving one gift, none, or one from the wider crowd and a dependable second from my immediate family. The pattern stayed the same. So did the question.
Social life was no easier. December turns every Filipino into a part-time event coordinator with a full schedule. Planning anything felt like trying to beat EDSA traffic using pure optimism. I adjusted without turning it into a personal tragedy.
Dating came with its own plot twist. I have celebrated maybe one or two birthdays with a partner. Christmas Eve leaves no room for romance. It is reserved for obligations, reunions, and relatives who always ask why your significant other is not there. It becomes part of your holiday script.
Birthday promos rarely work. Others get free desserts. Holiday babies get “closed na po,” or “fully booked,” or traffic so apocalyptic the idea disappears before it begins. Eventually, I stopped trying.
I also turned off my Facebook birthday notifications early in life. I did not want my birthday to compete with thousands of “Merry Christmas” posts. It was not emotional. It was efficient.
Still, a Christmas Eve birthday has charm. You are surrounded by relatives armed with stories, jokes, and the kind of volume only Filipinos consider normal. Someone always loses a gift. Someone interrogates the oven. Someone sings with confidence the room did not request. Joy fills the house in a loud, unbothered way. The day may not be about you, but you never feel alone. That matters.
Growing up softens the edges. What once felt heavy becomes featherlight. You learn the rhythm and stop expecting the holiday to make room for you. Instead, you build your own pockets. A slow breakfast. An unexpected message. A quiet hour before the chaos. Those small moments become the real celebration.
Holiday babies can shape their own celebration in simple ways. Pick a second birthday and claim it with confidence. Choose a date when restaurants are open, friends are free, and traffic is not plotting against you. Tell the people you want to celebrate with that this is your day and let them help you shape it. Plan a breakfast ritual that belongs to you. Buy yourself a small gift before the rush begins. Celebrate early or celebrate late. The point is to create a pocket of joy that is not competing with carols or casseroles. You get to decide how you want to mark your life.
To make a holiday baby feel appreciated, set aside real time for them. Offer another day and help them plan it, or plan a call with intention if you cannot be there in person. If you are together, carve out an hour or two that is fully theirs. We are not asking for extravagance. We want a moment that does not sit between other people’s errands.
A Christmas Eve birthday teaches you timing, humor, patience, and how to enjoy a day that will never fully belong to you. When you stop fighting the holiday and start dancing with it, the day becomes surprisingly easier to love.
