I turned 31 a few days ago — and although 31 shouldn’t be as significant as 30 — somehow its a bit harder to digest. When we turn 30 — you go through the motions of realizing that you can no longer consider yourself part of the 20 something crowd. When you turn 31 — you then start to realize how much MORE farther you are in relation to the 20s bracket. This number just keeps increasing and is supposed to represent a mark of maturity and accrued wisdom. In my case, I completely forgot that I had quickly and quietly approached my 31st year without any thought. One of my co-workers inquired about my age and after a brief pause — I seem to have mustered out 30. But just barely. Not because I loathed saying 30 — but because I completely forgot that I was no longer in my 20s. That’s when it hit me — good and hard. That I was quickly approaching 31. First I was mildly sad. Then mildly depressed. Then just numb. With no kids, no husband/boyfriend — only but a successful job to show — what does that all mean? And am I really successful or just doing fairly well. Shouldn’t I be happy with being your cliched “independent woman”? I recently met a friend of a friend who is in the midst of completing a Masters at Harvard. I am completely mystified and at awe at her perseverance and determination. At the age of 41, she’s managed to persevere

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