I am 54 years old. I've got some college under my belt. Had some writing published. Had four children, successful and thriving. I'm married and still very much in love with my husband. I've been laid off due to down sizing but never fired. My record is clean. So, I feel like I'm a success.

Though I'm not rich in a financial sense, I am a millionaire in happiness. I look at life the only way I know how and that is this way.

You get what you get.

You don't always get the gold ring. You don't always get the recognition you may deserve. And no matter who promises to have your back, there is only one person you can count on, and that person is yourself.

I am and have always been a stress eater. Good stress or bad stress, you can find me downing some variation of comfort food. And I'm a comfort food snob.

Here's what I mean: nabs or cheese crackers are my go to. They are the best. I seriously believe you can survive the apocalypse with nabs. They are the perfect food.

This past week has been stressful. Five local people have died and I knew every one of them. Eating nabs has helped. It doesn't change anything. Doesn't make the hurt go away. All it does is give me thinking time. I chew, savor the salty goodness as I ponder why or just think about the impact that person has had on my life. Death is such a final act. Even when you know it's coming it is always a shock. Accepting someone's death is hard to swallow. Nabs are not hard to swallow. That may sound callous but it's how I think.

Some people do yoga while others get drunk. Some will bawl their eyes out or cook or clean. But I eat nabs.

Maybe I exaggerated about nabs getting one through the apocalypse. But they've gotten me through good times and bad times.