Note: This is the beginning of a longer series of post, but I did say I was going to talk about. Remember?
Part of the reason why I wanted to start this blog was because I was slightly unhappy with my life for a while there. Looking back, I think I was a little depressed about it. This is very hard to write about and may seem really silly to you, but it was one of the hardest thing I ever experienced. It’s time for me to talk about it.
When I graduated from OU in May 2008 and came back home to Dallas, I was excited and anxious about my new phase in life. I did an internship at what would become my first employer and quickly found out that John Mayer was WRONG! There IS a such thing the real word. I was a journalist most of my collegiate life, but decided to pursue a career in public relations/marketing my junior year of college. I loved to write, but the newsroom environment was not for me. I learned that very quickly. I digress…
Shortly after completing my internship, I started studying for the GMAT (gross, disgusting, painful) and applying for full-time positions. Ironically, I completed the GMAT, was accepted into the MBA program at University of Texas at Arlington AND got a job ALL in the span of one week. Can we say God is good!? All the time!
I hit the ground running January 2009 with part-time grad school and full-time work. I was used to balancing a job (or two, or three) and school, so I didn’t find it to be difficult. Everything was going peachy keen.
Fast forward to Fall 2009. I decided to enroll in full-time grad school courses. Yes, that would be 3 classes a week from 7 to 10 p.m. That would mean commuting from North Dallas to Arlington and then to Duncanville three times a week. I was worn out. It was a very stressful time, but I found joy and happiness in the kitchen, concocting delicious dishes, trying out new recipes and using my family as guinea pigs. I don’t think they were too upset about. It was so much fun! On the days I didn’t have class and especially on the weekends when I wasn’t studying, I was cooking or baking something scrumptious.
Even though I was beyond busy and super stressed with school and work, I found peace and joy in the kitchen and with food. It was a stress reliever for me. Cooking was my form of art. It was vehicle to express myself. I knew I belonged in the kitchen. I was at home.
Or at least I thought I was.