It wasn’t too long ago when it felt like my world was spinning out of control; when the pressures of life turned the mumbo-jumbo in my head into a full fledged jambalaya. It happened when the initial rush of leaving my PhD program subsided and my eyes got tired of staring into the unknown. It happened when I spent two long and lonely months in my apartment updating my resume, filling out endless cover letters, and writing freelance while coming dangerously close to developing a mild case of agoraphobia. It happened when my stint working part time with the Census was over and the reality of my empty piggy bank confronted me; or when I realized I was alone in my journey and
“Standing on a hill in the mountain of dreams, telling myself it’s not as hard, hard, hard as it seems.” – Robert Plant
the problems I would have to solve were my own. I made the decision to leave grad school so I lived with the consequences. Still, the instability I lived under was threatening my sanity. Here I was, in Boston, barely covering rent, without a job, and few friends to turn to. The pressure was slowly building upon me. I wondered, was I heading for a catastrophic collapse?