These last two or three years, I’ve felt disorganized. Rushed. It’s a symptom of stress, no doubt. Of having too many responsibilities—those things that are placed upon a person by the outside world.
Stress, anxiety, and depression were crushing my spirit. Sucking all the air from my aging lungs. Turning my hair gray. Wrinkling my skin. Storing itself as visceral fat. Threatening my heart and brain with disease.
I resigned from a full-time paid position because I felt that stress and burnout consumed my creativity and interests. Instead, I fell back to working short-term contracts. To give me a chance to catch my breath and reevaluate what’s important; to find my focus. Before I drive further down the road on an emptying fuel reserve.
I’ve made changes. I’ve tried breathing new life. And I’ve tried stopping to appreciate the beauty of the world around me. In this new reality, I’ve been renewed and rejuvenated. I can see the world and my place in it.
And now, I’m still in recovery but burning through my cash reserves while the men (and women) in black suits and ties grab for student loan repayment. It’s not an easy choice to trade a certain salary for an unknown quantity, but the path forward requires calm and relaxation.