Yesterday was my birthday. Not a big one, but I must admit I am now definitely on the outer edges (the very outer edges) of my late thirties.

I had a lovely low-key day, two deliveries of simply stunning bouquets followed by a lovely seafood dinner and topped off by my family sang to me over the glow of one candle in a lovely little bundt cake that I favor.

A nice day, one of the first birthdays in recent memory that was not overtaken by illness and spent in bed in a dark, quiet room. And of course, hearing from so many people from different parts of my life and different decades via text, calls and social media was the proverbial icing on the cake.

So I guess that makes this Twitter chain from my brother the cherry on top.

My brother lives in NYC, while I am located in the back in the Bay Area, and we don’t get to see each other very often.  We share lots of nostalgia for weird things from our shared childhood, a love of the Oakland A’s and similar senses of humor. But nearly all of my health struggles happened after we were both adults, so it’s sometimes difficult for me to gauge how much he knows. He is the writer in the family (and an accomplished interviewer) and I have been inspired so much by things he publishes and the passions he continues to pursue. And I was very touched to read the following:

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Living with an invisible illness can be incredibly frustrating because you don’t “look sick” or look sick enough and I know it is incredibly heartening to know that another person recognizes your struggles. To me, the simple gesture of “I see you” or, “I researched your condition” or “I know you cannot go out with us, but I am here when you are ready” mean the world and I’m thankful to have heard them today and when I’ve struggled.

Happy Birthday indeed.

**For all the tweets without my super weird editing (yes he spelled my name right, no I could not for the life of me get the last R to be in frame. Brain fog wins again) click here.