In one week, I will be 42 (March 11th, in case you are wondering). I realized this today when looking at the calendar to figure out what day it was (I have 3 calendars scattered around my cubicle and I still can’t figure it out half the time. Yesterday I decided it was September 1st). I announced this to my co-workers without the panic that usually accompanies my realizing I’m going to be a year older.

For many years, a former friend of mine would say “Hey, Dana, it’s March 1st. You’re going to be (insert age here). What have you done with your life?” Then he would list off all of his accomplisments and compare them to mine. I, of course, was not as awesome and wonderful as he was since I didn’t have children or own a home or ever done anything worth mentioning.

It got to the point that March 1st would roll around and I would plunge into a dark depression. And then it became February 1st and then January 1st and you get the picture. Plus the depression would take forever to break.

A lot of things worked to help me get over this:

  1. I started working at NABABNA and met Beth and Keem and their families.  It feels like I have one big extended family. 
  2. My sister and I are close and I spend every Wednesday night with her.  My family has been a great support system.
  3. I stopped hanging out with people who seemed to only care about themselves and what I could do for them.
  4. I haven’t seen former friend in years.  I rarely think of him.  While I’ll always be grateful to him for convincing me to start working at NABABNA, it is nice to be away from someone who once told me my only purpose in life was to be someone people could make fun of since that would make them feel better about their lives.  Um, yeah, former friend?  Bite me.
  5. My doctor, after a few tries, found an anti-depressant that helps.  While I know I’ll be taking Effexor for the rest of my life, I’m okay with that.  I have been around me when I forget my meds and believe me, I am not much fun.  I’m either plunged into the depths of despair and thinking about killing myself or very manic and doing really dumb things like gambling away my rent money.
  6. I started blogging and met all sorts of awesome people IRL and through the internet.
  7.  I read The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Universe.

For years, if you ask me what the meaning of life is, I will respond with 42.  I can’t help it.  It’s just ingrained in me.  It’s the same thing that makes me growl at the thought of vampires that sparkle (I don’t get this, actually, I read maybe one or two chapters of Twilight and all it did is make me really miss Angel and Spike) or still be disgruntled over the fact that Data died in the last Star Trek: TNG movie (which I haven’t seen yet but I read the transcript).  Once I find something I love, it sticks with me.

So the idea that I’m going to be 42?  It’s like the coolest thing ever.   There’s no depression.  There’s no twinge that maybe I could have done something better in the past that would have led me elsewhere.  I have an absolutely fantastic life and I have all of you to thank for it.

Kalli is fine – she has been spayed and declawed (we didn’t want to get her declawed but it is a requirement of our lease unfortunately (please don’t hate us, Liz)).  She is apparently being affectionate and quiet (this was a shock to hear) and we can pick her up tonight.  Eddy misses her, last night he was wandering around the apartment looking for her.  We look forward to spoiling her like crazy and taking many pictures of her with a cone on her head.

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