Have you ever been stuck? I mean circumstantially paralyzed. All throughout 2014 – 15, on a daily basis, I had to remind myself to breathe.

A year ago, my life came to an unnerving crescendo of crap that left me in desperate need of change. My lack of clarity and stagnating anxiety had me, in the words of David Byrne, "trying to find myself a city to live in." If I couldn't change my problems, I would at the very least relocate them.

It's a heavy crossroads when you start to take stock of your life and career and ask yourself, "What is really keeping me here? Is everything I thought to be right now terribly wrong?" Colored with overwhelming feelings that both my home and workplace felt like a crime scene, I simply did not know where I belonged anymore.

So I reached out to various friends in cities I tried to imagine myself thrift-store shopping in: Seattle, Boston, Memphis and Austin. Which of these cities had the optimum Pug weather? If I could get a handle on that, then I could worry myself into inertia about finding a job. Radio is pretty much all I've ever done, but again: Where on earth would I fit?

My friend Bob in Memphis asked me why I was "breaking up with Minneapolis," which is an interesting way to put what I was contemplating. I thought about it and realized I just needed to feel safe, and if that meant hauling my ass to a new town and starting from scratch, that might be a risk I was willing to take. The irony was not lost on me that there is nothing safe about doing something so drastic.

To give you an idea of my mental framework, my memoir's working title is, NOTHING WORKS. That way, if it ever gets published, I know they can't file it in the Self Help section. As in all stories about trying to outrun your problems, at some point common sense takes hold, and that voice that had been hammering at me to grab the critters and skip town subsided into a slightly less wing-nut tone.

When I returned to work last November, my friends would ask with concern if I was ready for it, to which I would — without hesitation — respond, "No. But I'm willing to try."

And that is what I do every day, plain and simple. TRY. It's not super brainy, sexy or hashtag worthy.

Last week, I was smoking a butt on the patio at work, and a feeling washed over me that I have experienced maybe a handful of times before in my life. For a fleeting moment, I had a feeling of belonging. An assurance from the stars or the devil that this is exactly where I am supposed to be for now. I wish I could tell you that there was something profound that led up to this scene to make its power weightier. There's not. If I've learned anything, it is to grab those moments and RUN WITH THEM! They are just feelings that last a brief second, and it would be easy to be cynical and ignore them. Instead, store them somewhere; you'll surely need them again. Believe me, it's been so long since I've felt that my life has had levity, a moment of reflection that doesn't hurt or feel careless is worth everything.

When you've spent so long reaching for something out of your grasp, sometimes the hand that reaches back is your own.