I swear there was a time in my life when someone convinced me life would get better as I got older. I'd like to find that person and give him/her a piece of my mind . . . a big piece of my mind . . . in fact, I need a mind keeper. At 57 (Am I 57? Yeah, 57.) I'm still surrounded by self-help books, psychotherapists, groups with whom I receive therapy, yet I still don't know who I am. I tried to end my search as recently as a year ago, but loved-ones kept pulling me back to "reality." They love me and I love them for loving me, but I'm mystified by their concern. They couldn't all be gluttons for punishment and I'm quite often a pain in the . . . posterior.