I woke up on my 41st birthday to the kind of surprise that makes you pause in awe — it was snowing. Heavily. In all my 41 years on this planet, I’ve NEVER seen snow on my birthday until now. The odds of that happening? Mind-blowing. It’s been at least three years since we’ve had snow here at all.

When you get older, you start to assume you’ve seen it all, that nothing much can surprise you anymore. But the Universe (or, more likely, climate change — let’s not kid ourselves with the space magic) has a funny way of proving you wrong. This year, it gave me the gift of waking up to a scene that felt nothing short of magical (If you purposely ignore the climate change reasons).

My teen and I sat by the window, marvelling at the snow together. The world outside looked like a postcard, but the temperatures were anything but cosy — the coldest we’ve had so far this year. Bundling up was going to be essential for the day ahead. My teen had university and trains to contend with first before our much-anticipated birthday Starbucks drinks (we know how to party). I worried about the trains in the snow — because here, one delicate snowflake falling onto the track is enough to delay or cancel everything. Sure enough, their train was delayed, but thankfully, it was still running. They were so cold waiting on the platform that even their Build-A-Bear frog, who came along for emotional support, was “freezing his frog off.”

After spending the morning chatting with lovely friends online who wished me a happy birthday, and lots of presents (more on that at a later date – I’m thinking of doing a birthday haul post) it was my turn to bundle up. I felt like Astrid from The Long Dark as I prepared to brave the elements. Layer by layer, I wrapped myself in my Mass Effect gear, simultaneously channeling another Jennifer Hale-voiced character. Each piece of clothing felt like it came with a warmth bonus, just like in the game: “This hat surely gives +1°C of warmth. Maybe I have one that’s +2°C? It all makes a difference in the game!” (This is probably why the game comes with warnings not to attempt it in real life isn’t it? – For people like me that take it far too seriously.)

With my multiple layers firmly in place, reminding me of Randy in A Christmas Story, I stepped outside and embarked on The Long Birthday Walk to Starbucks. After walking what felt like the distance between Timberwolf Mountain and Desolation Point in The Long Dark, dragging my suitcase travois behind me (to hoard snacks, naturally), I finally made it to the city centre. “Funny how the cold makes the walk seem longer in real life too,” I thought. The temperature had hit 0°C (-3C with the wind chill factor) during my trek, and I couldn’t help but wonder how my in-game character managed a -90°C day when I could barely make it to town. Clearly, the Canadian wilderness has officially been crossed off my escape plan list.

I met my teen at The Entertainer, the closest shop to where I’d arrived, and immediately stationed myself by the heaters. We browsed the toys (because let’s be honest, turning 41 doesn’t make you “grown up”) and had fun mostly window shopping, though I did find a bear mug that was too cute to resist. We hopped from one shop heater to the next, trying to stay warm, before finally deciding we’d had enough and headed straight to Starbucks.

Walking into Starbucks felt like stepping into a warm sanctuary. Their winter cup and ornament selection immediately caught our eye, with adorable Bearista mugs and ornaments that reminded us of a lovely friend’s Instagram account. They are so cute that they were very hard to resist, but Starbucks pricing helped me not give into temptation. After some excited chatter, we both did something very brave: we ordered hot food. This was a first for both of us. My teen and I both have ARFID, and I also struggle with an ED, so eating food at places can be a huge challenge. But Starbucks has become our “safe” spot, the perfect place to take that leap.

Maybe it was the cold pushing us forward, or maybe it helped us gain some unexpected XP in courage, but we went for it. I ordered a bacon bap, and my teen chose a sausage bap. Of course, even though it was my birthday, I stuck with my trusty Americano — some things never change, like my coffee needing to be as bitter as I often am. My teen ordered a mocha with heaps of cream and chocolate, because they are, quite simply, the sweetest.

The bacon bap was SO GOOD — smoky, warm, and comforting, like a hug in bread form. I let myself feel the comfort (which is always an effort with an ED) as if it were a +2 warmth bonus from the game, and it truly hit the spot. But what made me smile even more was looking over and seeing my teen happily enjoying theirs. Watching them take that brave step, knowing how hard it is for both of us, the pride I was consumed with felt like another birthday gift they’d given me.

After leaving Starbucks, still riding the wave of bravery from eating our baps, we headed to Marks and Spencer. Apparently, that momentary courage plus a large injection of caffeine hadn’t just boosted our warmth bonus — it had also activated my ADHD brain’s dopamine centre and flipped the switch on “Impulsive Shopper” mode.

I started shopping chaotically and bravely, as if I’d completely forgotten that this rush of boldness would run out the moment I got home. My ED would no doubt question why I was ever let near a grocery store… Again. It was like I’d suddenly been transported into The Long Dark, raiding an abandoned house for supplies, as I also forgot I’d have to actually pay for all of this. The pigs in blankets sandwich I hesitated over last week due to it’s RIDICULOUS numbers? Straight into the basket. Star-shaped waffles? Absolutely. A giant packet of cheese twists? Take EVERYTHING — it’s free! Grocery shopping had become a full-blown survival mission, and I wasn’t leaving anything behind.

Thankfully, I didn’t forget my safe foods — because if you’ve read my other posts, you already know one of them is the beloved chicken shawarma meal, I have declared my love publicly for it on many occasions. Naturally, I grabbed two for good measure, along with its shelf neighbor: Katsu chicken curry. My logic? If they’re friends on the shelf, maybe they’ll be friends in my kitchen. The bravery of this choice cannot be overstated.

The price of the items flashing up on the self-service checkout tried its best to crash me back to reality through cost-of-living price structures, but my spirits refused to be dampened. It’s my birthday, after all — I DESERVE treats!

With my suitcase travois loaded up like I was preparing for a month-long “white out mission” blizzard (despite knowing full well the snow in Wales barely lasts a day), I headed home feeling equal parts accomplished and apprehensive. The temperature raised 1C and then immediately dropped back to 0C so I don’t think we’ve ever rushed home quite as fast before, both of us stating how cold we were every two minutes like a productivity chant. We got in and unloaded the suitcase travois with all our goodies and made dinner, for me Chicken Shawarma obviously, and watched tv together with lots of warm clothes and blankets to warm up.

I tried to watch Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind, but thats when I was hit with an unwanted birthday present, a cluster headache attack. I could not focus on the movie for how painful it was. Unfortunately this attack, also caused the crash. It wasn’t unexpected — I’ve learned that after big highs, my brain likes to throw a little plot twist of, “What if we just felt terrible now?” It’s like a cruel game of emotional whiplash that I still haven’t entirely figured out how to win.

Earlier, everything felt possible — like the snow on my birthday had created this rare pocket of magic where I could do anything, even eat things I’ve been too scared to try, like the hot food at Starbucks. But depression doesn’t care about magic — or bravery. It waits. Once you’ve drifted gently into its fog, the highs can still break through, but just as suddenly, it can snatch those highs away again — crashing you back down with a sudden BANG of a cluster headache or a reminder of how fleeting the good moments can feel.

I think this is one of the ways in which people don’t fully understand depression, or how much someone can be struggling underneath. And I get it — if you’d seen me in Starbucks, you’d have had no idea that this was waiting for me. The background interference of my current mental state was just that: background noise. But when the crash came, it forced that noise to the forefront, demanding my attention in a way that couldn’t be ignored.

And that’s okay. It doesn’t make the good moments any less real. It doesn’t mean I wasn’t genuinely happy in those fleeting pockets of magic. It just means I’m carrying more than people might see — more than even I can handle, sometimes. But that doesn’t mean I’m negative. Depression doesn’t pause for birthdays or special days; it doesn’t respect the moments you wish could be untouched. It just is. But that doesn’t take away from the fact that, in the face of it all, I still had a good day. That’s not negativity — that’s perseverance.

Today was so special. Even though I got home and the void greeted me, trying to pull me back in more forcefully as if the day had somehow made it realise it needed to work harder, I’m grateful — for the amazing day, for the people I shared it with, for the magical dopamine-fueled joy that somehow was still achievable. Even for the fact that my cluster headache waited longer than usual to crash the party. I’m also feeling preemptive gratitude for the magic still yet to come — like the Jellycat birthday adventure we’ve planned for a day when it’s not The Long Dark weather conditions and my teen doesn’t have university all day. Snow in Wales is so fleeting, just like some good moments can feel when you’re struggling with depression, but their brevity doesn’t make them any less magical.

The snow felt magical, and so did getting to enjoy my birthday, despite everything I’ve been facing lately. Sometimes, fleeting magic is enough to remind you that even in the hardest times, there are still reasons to hope, to smile, and to keep going.

And because no birthday reflection or post is complete without a theme tune, here’s a ukulele cover of It’s My Party. It feels fitting — equal parts lighthearted, self-aware, and just a little bit emotional. Because hey, even when the void shows up uninvited, the party doesn’t have to stop entirely.