My birthday is Wednesday, and I kind of wish I could just fast-forward to 40 and skip all these angsty late-30s years. Being a teenager again would be less troublesome. At least then I had the belief that someday — presumably, when I was an “adult” — my life would make sense, and I’d find happiness, and somehow I’d feel that I’d accomplished something. But now? I’m left with the sinking feeling that “this” is “it.” I’m the last person I’d expect to have some sort of pre-middle-age breakdown, but here I am. I keep thinking it has to get better, but when?