Birthdays don't feel the same anymore

I used to be scared of Halloween. Not because of the creepy masks or the monsters that come out for the night, but because shortly after Halloween came my birthday. And with it, the cycle of self-pity. Year after year, I would torment myself with thoughts: Why didn’t I get the gift I wanted? Why didn’t this person wish me happy birthday? I gave such a beautiful present and surprise for someone else — why wasn’t the same done for me?

It was all ego, comparison, and a pile of expectations wrapped up in a single day that, truthfully, seven billion other people didn’t care about.

By the time I turned 24, I stopped celebrating altogether. I kept my birthday off social media. Sometimes I even avoided posting reflections about spending it alone in a foreign city, blowing out a candle on a cake I bought just for myself. I would tell myself that this was strength, that someone would notice, that someone would see how I didn’t “need” anyone to celebrate with me. But deep down, it still hurt.

Then one day, I read Eat, Pray, Love and it shifted something inside me. I realized birthdays didn’t have to be about waiting for gifts or surprises. They could be about giving (gifting) back. Inspired, I started what I now call my “Birthday Gift Back.”

It began in 2012, after I walked 375km from Bangkok to the Thai-Burmese border to raise funds for anti-human trafficking. Since then, every birthday has become a chance to turn receiving into giving. Instead of being the center of attention, I use my "birth" day to support causes I believe in.

I’ve transformed every one of my birthdays into what I call my “Birthday Gift Back.” Instead of focusing the day on myself, I use it as an opportunity to give to others — to shift the spotlight away from what I could receive, toward what I could contribute.

The idea is simple, yet impactful: on the very day when people expect to be showered with gifts and attention, we flip the script. We “gift back.” We receive less so that those with greater needs can receive more.

Over the years, I’ve shared my Gift Back journeys through posts and updates — each year telling a new story of where the donations went, who they supported, and the difference they made. What started as something deeply personal slowly grew into a ripple. A few friends began following in my footsteps, and some even told me they’d been doing something similar on their own. That brought me so much joy, because it meant the attention was no longer on me. It was flowing into meaningful causes, sparking conversations about the issues I cared about, and channeling energy into communities that needed it most.

To me, every donation is like lighting a candle. One alone was small, but together they created light waves. It became a celebration that unfolded daily in the month of November, in the way I followed up with donors, shared updates, and tracked the impact. 

Honestly, it’s far more work than hosting a birthday party. There’s the planning, the supermarket runs, the heavy lifting of goods, the trips to children’s homes, the careful documenting of every receipt — because I believe in 100% transparency. And then there’s the gratitude: thanking every donor, tagging them, making sure they know that their kindness mattered a lot to me.

Yes, it takes time and energy. But it also fills me with something a party never could — a sense that my birthday isn’t about one day of attention, but about creating ripples of change that last long after the birthday candles are blown out.

I’ll never forget one year when I received a substantial amount of donations but couldn’t possibly carry all the necessities myself. By chance, I met an American girl at Free Bird Café in Chiang Mai. I asked if she could help me, and without hesitation she agreed. For me, I feel, “When you want something good for others, the world conspires to help you.” In that moment, I understood what Paulo Coelho wrote in The Alchemist: “When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.”

As my health began to decline, I realized that if I wanted to continue my Gift Back movement, I had to get creative. Illness forced me to slow down, but it didn’t silence the part of me that longed to serve, to give, and to uplift. Instead, it nudged me to find new ways of offering from where I was.

When I was going through cancer at 33, I launched a campaign I called “Raise $3,300 in 33 Days for 3 Charities.” It was my way of turning hardship into hope. Each dollar raised felt like a seed planted, and every seed carried the potential to grow into something far bigger than my illness.

Another year, I created “4(For) Monk 2(To) Teach & Travel,” a campaign supporting Bhante Akaliko’s Dharma teaching trips to Malaysia and Australia. I had the honor of traveling with him from Singapore into Malaysia, serving as his Kapiya (monk’s assistant). Being by his side, watching him spread Dharma and lead retreats, reminded me that generosity is not just about money. It’s also about time, presence, and the willingness to support something meaningful.

And before health became an obstacle, I poured myself into another campaign I called “34 Good Deeds” on my 34th birthday. That year, I organized and performed one of the good deed in the form of a charity concert, to raise funds for a school supporting Burmese refugees in Southern Thailand. A dear friend generously sponsored the venue, giving me a stage to fulfill my birthday Gift Back. Standing under the lights, singing each song with intention, I felt every note carry a meaning far deeper than entertainment. Looking back, that night remains one of the most fulfilling and unforgettable memories of my giving journey.

Looking back, I see a common thread running through all these efforts: illness may have changed my pace, but it never diminished my desire to "gift". If anything, it deepened it. Service doesn’t always have to look the same — it can evolve, adapt, and flow with what is given. Do what you can with what you have at where you are - a motto I kept close to my heart. 

One of the most memorable Gift Backs was when I traveled to Khura Buri, a small town in southern Thailand near the Burmese coastline. For my 35th birthday, I dedicated 35 hours (though it could have been much more) to volunteering at the school I had raised funds for back in 2013. It was deeply moving to see the impact of where those donations had gone — it felt like the "gift back" had come full circle.

Of course, I couldn’t resist reaching out to my friends for support once again. Thanks to their generosity, we were able to provide milk, stationery, toothpaste, toothbrushes, and all the small but essential items the children needed. I even went ahead with a playful idea — creating school uniforms in rainbow colors, each shade representing a different age group or grade.

Those few weeks of volunteering as a teacher brought me immense happiness. Watching the children’s smiles, diping in their energy, and simply being part of their world filled me up with joy. Even now, I sometimes wonder how they’ve grown, where life has taken them, and whether they still remember me.

Looking back now, my birthdays are no longer about self-pity. They’ve become milestones filled with meaning and purpose.

Soon it will be my birthday, and this year feels different. Not because of the number on the calendar, but because it marks the start of a new chapter. Living with the inability to eat, along with the many complications of this disability, has weakened my body in countless ways. Yet, through all of this, my spiritual endeavors refuse to be dimmed. My Dharma work remains my anchor—steady, grounding, and unwavering. Guiding me through each wave of challenge with purpose and clarity.

For my 45th birthday Gift Back, I created a campaign I called “For(4) Me to Write (5).” The “4” was for me, but the “5” carried a double meaning: it stood for writing, and also for fight — the fight I carried forward through my words. 

This year turning 45, I like to honor my journey as a queer Buddhist writer.

Writing became my medium, a way to process pain while offering something meaningful to others. 

For years, I’ve been quietly weaving words out of Dharma and lived experience: writing through illness, grief, and queerness. These writings helped me make sense of suffering, resilience, and joy.

Even when my body struggled, my voice could still reach out, connect, and give back.

Now, I want to share them more widely — to give back to the LGBTQ+ community that has supported me, and to queer kin still searching for belonging in spiritual spaces. 

So instead of birthday gifts, I invite you to celebrate with me through my writings:

Subscribe to my Substack, read my articles and reflections — and if your heart (and pocket) allows, consider pledging as a supporter:
👉 kyleneo.substack.com

Support the Dharma Kueen Mini Zine — sponsor its printing and distribution to the LGBTQ+ community:
👉 dharmakueen.com/minizine

Explore my books on my website — if one speaks to your heart, bring it home:
👉 dharmakueen.com

It amplifies queer Dharma voices, helping to build a more inclusive spiritual space, one where Buddhism and queerness don’t just coexist, but shine together.

Through my writing, I hope to create a universal space of connection, where even those outside the LGBTQ+ community can find resonance. After all, the heart of Dharma is awakening, and that journey belongs to all of us, no matter who we are or whom we love.

This year, my birthday wish is simple: may no one, and no mind, be left behind.