I am turning forty years old this May. Turning forty feels as if I am reaching some kind of threshold, a new door that I am going to open, a milestone if you will.
Now, let’s talk about my birthdays for a second. I hate my birthdays not because I am afraid to turn older, but because I always feel lonely. And I cry a lot. I sob. I indulge in self-pity and misery. Yes, I love to feel gloomy on my birthdays. My birthday is the saddest day of the year.
Of course, there is a sadistic side to all of(…)