For three years following my divorce I floundered through life aimlessly, searching for dreams and joy that continued to elude me. In a desperate attempt to pay off old debts and build some sense of financial security for me and my rescue pup, I had gone from gluten-free blogging to working for an investment bank. I didn’t recognize myself or my life.
I was 32 and it felt like I was starting over—only this time I had massive failures in business, marriage, and finances behind me. I was in doubt of my every move and envious of Elizabeth Gilbert’s graceful commitment to her craft as a writer despite the unraveling of her romantic and personal life. I hadn’t a clue of who I was or what I was meant to do, which made it hard to commit to anything.
My new job paid well, allowing me to pay off the debts I took from my marriage. And while returning to corporate America was quite jolting, I was surprised at how much good I seemed capable of doing in a job that involved actual in-person interactions.