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I found myself curiously unable to sleep last week. For those that know me, this is especially rare as I've been known to sleep standing up, or if really exhausted, even in mid-conversation! So staring at the ceiling at 2 a.m. only amplified a steadily growing and nagging feeling. As I laid in bed, my thoughts drifted between decisions about my future (both personally and professionally) and whether those decisions would align with the outcomes I was hoping to achieve. These thoughts started out innocently enough; a low rumble amidst all the other noise of the day. Then they seemed to morph into a sticky feeling in the pit of my stomach, until ultimately landing like a rock in my chest. It wasn't until a few days later that I was able to pinpoint the name of my sleep invader - worry…