Hah, another meaningless number: it's Friday the 13th. :-)
I've never been superstitious, but it's starting to amuse me, how little attention I pay, on the inside, to measurements of any kind, any more.
My young self was nearly obsessed with measurement. I constantly checked measures of progress when I was dieting, for instance. I needed to. If I didn't see progress, couldn't measure my gains, I had no belief that the progress had happened. If my grades fell, I was frightened, or in those cases where my performance was lowered by depression, I just got more depressed.
The same thing with self-esteem. If I didn't get enough positive feedback in some given time period, I began to doubt. I would make an effort to perform, for my mother or for anyone else who would be impressed. I'd be uncomfortable with new people until I had made some joke or popped out some interesting bit of trivia; for me, "breaking the ice" meant getting some sign of approval out of the situation.
Where did all that go? Well, I guess it's not gone completely; it has just diminished in importance so much that I don't even notice its absence.
Now, I talk to people because I like to; I joke with them because I enjoy laughter, theirs and mine. I share what I know because it might help someone. I walk with other people on their journeys, because it enriches mine.
In other words, I'm a lot happier now.