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When I finished college, the Great Recession was at its height. Despite graduating with a high GPA and good internship experience,

it took me two years to find a full-time job in my field. During those two years, I felt isolated,

adrift, and lost. In retrospect, it makes sense that this was when I brushed up against what may have been my first ghost.

Newspaper articles at the time were full of stories of boomerane kids,

young adults who moved back home to write out the economic hardship with their parents.

I couldn't stand for that to be me, though.

I had just broken up with my boyfriend, and I didn't

think I could handle the pity, the claustrophobia, and the further sense of failure I would feel

starting my adult life in my childhood bedroom. Instead, I worked three jobs to make ends meet.

I could pay the rent, but I swiftly fell into a state of depression.

I kept odd hours, and it was difficult to find time to see friends.

One of my jobs was with a youth psychologist.

I was paid to transcribe recordings the psychologist made of his evaluations of patients.

Because of confidentiality concerns, I'm not going to talk about anything specific that was in those recordings. One thing I noticed, though, was how many of the kids grew up in small, dying towns in the rural areas of our state.

I lived in our major city and hadn't spent a lot of time exploring outside of it.

Out of loneliness and depression, I started using my free time to drive.

...