Five years ago, I turned 35 in lockdown

April 14, 2020. My 35th birthday.

The world had shut down a month prior, but inside my house, my family made sure the confetti still fell. My mom and sisters came over because, in my family, we always show up for birthdays—pandemic or not. My sister made a balloon garland backdrop, confetti pancakes for brunch, cupcake brand champagne for our mimosas. I had a birthday sash, a birthday hat, and a photo shoot in the house. I even attempted the dance craze - Tootsie slide (you had to be there, except you couldn’t cuz quarantine)

And then the next day, life repeated itself.

I ran the dishwasher. Cooked. Ran the dishwasher again. Cleaned. Took the dog out. Zoom meetings. Transitioned Arielle to Zoom school. Kept Atlas entertained—he was only four, not yet in school. Did it all over again. Groundhog Day, but with more Lysol wipes and no end in sight. Cabin fever doesn’t even begin to describe it.

At some point during those early months, I also made one of the worst financial decisions of my life: I sold all my Bitcoin. Like the investing novice I was, I watched it drop and panicked. I will never not be mad about this.

But looking back, I see something else in that version of me. I see a woman learning—about herself, about what she actually needed to feel whole.

The Woman who emerged

That time forced me to slow down. I was used to moving fast, doing everything, being everywhere. But when the world stopped, I had to figure out how to move on my own terms.

I realized that the hustle and bustle I crave only works when it’s my choice—not a demand from the world around me. I started to understand that happiness doesn’t belong on the fringes of life. That time spent with the people I love should be at the center, not something squeezed in between work and obligations.

Even as life reopened, I made different choices. I started working at my children’s school, staying close to them while doing work that mattered. Then I transitioned from schools to neighborhoods, deepening my impact in the community. (See the commercial I E.P’ed for Creative City Public Charter School Here)

That shift—from individual survival to collective care—is bigger than just my own life. The pandemic forced all of us to reconsider how we build community. It exposed the cracks in our systems: how schools functioned, how work consumed us, how social safety nets barely held. It made me more committed to the work of civic culture—because I know firsthand what happens when systems fail and community is what you have to fill in the gaps. I’m grateful that I have mine.

Now, five years later, I’m turning 40.

If my 35-year-old self could see my 40-year-old self planning a birthday, she’d be pleased.

A staycation with my kids. A visit to a museum. Othello (a girl can hope). Drinks with friends. A celebration that reflects me, not just a milestone.

More of the same, just bigger.

The pandemic forced me to pause, but it also gave me clarity. I don’t live at the mercy of someone else’s timeline anymore. I don’t push joy to the edges. I move through the world with intention, knowing exactly what I want and who I want it with.

And this year, I’ll be celebrating that.

Baltimore Itinerary: Birthday Edition

• Stay-cation: Roost

• Dinner: Rye Street Tavern

• Cocktails: Bar Vegan

• Coffee: Little Wing 

• Good People : d’m me @thecharmcitymaven for date and time

Want More Days Like This?

Make sure you’re following me on Instagram for more #CharmCitizen field notes in real time. I’ll be dropping a visual recap of this day on Sunday.