aletheia starborn

My birthdays are always super hard. Like, since I was a kid, I just never liked them. My mother is narcissistic, so anytime I had a birthday, she’d make it all about herself. She’d say, “I gave you birth, I brought you into this world — so this should be my day, not yours.” And yeah, she meant it.

It was never about me.

Later, we got a step-sibling, and slowly the gifts from our dad stopped. Me and my sibling would just sit there and watch him giving everything to her. And even when I got something, it was barely anything — and almost never what I actually wanted.

Then I got older. It turned into getting money instead. Which, on one hand, was good because at least I could pick something I liked. But on the other hand, it was kind of sad. There was no surprise. No love in it. Just a transaction.

As an adult, it changed even more. More responsibilities. You have your own money. People stop caring. You start to realize a lot of things — like, hey, my family dynamic isn’t just “weird,” it’s actually really messed up. I started to see the abuse for what it was. And I stopped celebrating.

I always told people that I don’t celebrate birthdays because I don’t see the point, that it’s stupid — but that wasn’t the truth. The truth is that I didn’t celebrate them because I never had a birthday that felt good. And if I ever did try, I had no one to celebrate with.

Even when I had friends, it always felt forced. I’d have to organize everything, invite people, and half of them wouldn’t even bother to wish me a happy birthday. Sometimes I’d bring my own cake — like, I’d literally travel five hours with this cake, trying not to mess it up on the way, just to have it waiting in the fridge while no one touched it. No one cared.

It was always awkward. Always weird. If there was a dinner or a lunch, there’d be an argument. No peace. No joy.

I only had a couple birthdays in my life that were actually beautiful. One at work — I had just started and my coworkers sang happy birthday and gave me gifts. It was the sweetest thing. And another, when my ex and a friend organized a surprise party. All my friends were there. Even thinking about it now makes me cry.

But that was it. And now I’m older. My family doesn’t really celebrate anymore. They just send me money and that’s it. No warmth. No love.

This year feels especially hard. I recently went no contact with my toxic family — especially my mother. And of course, she made the rest of them turn against me. Even my grandparents. So this will be the first birthday without a message from anyone. No partner. No friends I’d celebrate with. Nothing.

I’ll just be working. And alone.

It hit me hard. I cried. A lot. You know those moments — when you come home after work, it’s already dark, your place is a mess, you haven’t cleaned, haven’t cooked, you just order something sad from DoorDash and sit in the chaos… and it just hits you. And you cry. You cry for the love you didn’t get. The family that doesn’t exist. The people you thought would stay but didn’t.

I spent a few nights like that. Reliving things. Feeling them. Letting them go.

Then I was like, screw it, and I ran a hot bath and went to meditate.

The intention was just to relax. I didn’t even want a message. I just wanted to stop thinking, stop feeling. But I said like I always do, “If you have anything to tell me, you can show me.” And nothing really happened.

I was like, Alright. We’re just relaxing today.

But then suddenly I was somewhere else — up in space. I could see the Earth down below. I was standing on this glowing road or bridge, like the Bifrost. That’s what I always call it.

And then I saw her. My higher self.

She always looks similar — but this time she was very feminine. Beautiful dark skin, and you could see the entire universe in her skin, like galaxies alive inside her. She had a pearl facemask that only showed her eyes, and this stunning white gown that flowed like starlight.

She looked at me and said, “You have everything.”

And I just broke.

I said, “I know I do. But I feel so alone. I feel tired.”

She said, “I’m here with you.”

And I just… I let it out. I told her everything. That being in the body is not the same as being up there. That down here, everything is heavier. You feel things. All of them. You feel grief. Loneliness. Exhaustion. You compare yourself to others, and even if you don’t, you still feel that ache — that hole from the love and family you never had. And I told her, “I know you’re here, but I need someone down here. I need a break. I need rest. Not forever. Just enough to catch my breath. I don’t want to get stronger. I’m already strong. I just want something to hold on to. Something small. Something real.”

And she looked at me and said, “You’re never alone. You never were.”

Then I saw them.

My two guides. My childhood dog. My great grandpa. My grandpa from my father’s side. His dog. They came to me. They hugged me. And behind them… more. My ancestors. Angels. Soul beings. It was a crowd — an entire crowd of love, of support. A whole line of souls standing there, surrounding me.

One of them — I don’t even know who he was, but maybe he’s my twin flame or my other half — he hugged me and kissed me on the forehead.

And I started to cry.

And then I was back. In the bath. Still crying. But held.

And I guess… I just want to say this:

Even when you’re at your lowest.
Even when you feel the most alone.
Even when you’re sitting in the dark with your sad little meal and your messy room and your broken heart —
You’re not alone.

It’s so easy to forget who you are when you’re in grief. When you’re in pain.
But who you are — is a soul.
A tiny, eternal flame.
An immortal being, connected to everything.

And even if you don’t see it in this 3D world, even if it feels like no one’s there —
There’s probably a whole crowd walking with you.
Clapping for you.
Rooting for you.
Sending you love.

Maybe sometimes you feel them in meditation.
Maybe it’s an angel number on the clock.
Maybe a feather, or a dog that reminds you of the one you lost.
Little signs. Little messages.
Proof that you’re not walking this path alone.

There was this message I got once in another meditation:
“We are walking with you, every step, every path. We are always by your side.”

So let this be a reminder. For me.
And for anyone reading this:

Even if the hope is small.
Even if you feel like you’re the loneliest soul in the whole damn galaxy —
You’re not.

You’re never alone.
You never were.—Let me know if you want this formatted into a blog-ready post — like with a title, quote teaser, or intro paragraph. We can even pair this with a minimalist cosmic drawing if you want something visual.