I was in grad school, getting ready to drop out. I never finished it. I was extremely unhappy, living in a place I hated, trying to please professors and advisors who didn't give a crap about me and did not have my best interests in mind. I had a mental breakdown in September of that year, I was abusing Vicodin and alcohol, and I had to get a sh***y job to help make ends meet. Moved back in with my family because I couldn't make ends meet. This was in 2009. You don't want to be me. My emotions are still broken, I'm still extremely depressed, the only things that have changed have been moving back to NC and starting a job in my field.