A couple years ago, I sat on a plane. I was returning home to DC after visiting my family in Utah, and the prospect of going back to work made me feel sick to my stomach. Perhaps you can relate.
I didn’t have a lot going on in my life at the time. I woke up, went to work, went to grad school, took care of my dogs, and then usually passed out in front of the TV only to repeat this routine the next day. I was 23 years old and my life — safe and comfortable, sure — was boring.