Dear 43 Things Users,

10 years after introducing 43 Things to the world, we have decided we have met our last goal: completing the incredible experience that has been 43 Things. Please join us in giving one last cheer to all the folks who have shared their goals with the world, as well as all the people who have worked at The Robot Co-op to build this incredible website. We won a Webby Award, published a book, and brought happiness to a lot of people.

Starting today, 43 Things users can export their goals and entries from the site. Starting August 15, we will make the site “read only”. 43 Things users will still be able to view the site and export their content, but we won’t be taking any new content from users. We hope to leave the site up for folks to see and download their content until the end of the year. Ending on New Year’s Eve takes us full circle.

It has been a long ride (one of our original goals was to "build a company that lasts at least 2 years” - we beat that one!) While we wish the site could live on, it has suffered from a number of challenges - changes in how people use the site, the advertising industry, and how search engines view the site. We wish the outcome was different – but we’ve always been realistic about when our goals are met and when they aren't.

As of today, you will be able to download your goals and entries. See more about that on the FAQ page. Thanks for 10 great years of goal-setting and achieving.

- The Robots.

Export My Content


forgive with joy (read all 2 entries…)
Opportune Moments

I had the opportunity to test this out on a small-scale today, in a phone conversation with my mother. I hesitantly mentioned my diet to her, which immediately sent her into the vortex of negativity I so associate with my childhood. First, there was the inevitable guilt and shame that I apparently heaped on her because I_ went on a diet—she’s obese, so my diet is not only a reflection on the poor nutritutional habits I learned growing up, but it also must be my way of saying _she’s fat.

Then came the personal attacks, as she begins to agree with me: Yes, dkp, you do need to lose some weight. The last time I saw you I thought you were looking a little hippy. It doesn’t get any easier when you get older, you know. And on and on and on.

The conversation made me, predictably enough, angry and hurt. My usual reaction is to strike back, to make a snide comment along the lines of “Like mother, like daughter—except I’m doing something about it.”

But I remembered my goal-forgive with joy-and how anxious I am about my weight, as well as how sensitive I try to be with my friends and colleagues who also struggle with these issues. So I channeled my inner Miss Manners, held my tongue, and shifted the subject. I asked her about her pride & joy, her volunteer work with her church. The conversation shifted to her and I worked on my deep-breathing exercises during the monologue. I tried, really tried, to hear and appreciate the happiness in her voice. And I tried to forgive with joy, understanding that her comments aren’t really about me.

I’m still trying.


good for you!

you did the right thing, dkp

Our Parents are our #1 fans and even though sometimes their words/actions hurt us.. it is important to remember that they mean well!

cheers to you :)


Intellectually, I realize the comments come out of a dual desire to protect me and the frustration in not being able to do so. Sometimes I need to be reminded of my parents’ humanity, though. So thanks for the cheer and the kind words.

dkp has gotten 1 cheer on this entry.


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