It was the same day that I received my Ph.D. that my grandmother shattered everything I thought I knew.
In total, I had been studying for 7 years, beginning with zoology, and then transferring to straight biology, completing my masters a year later, and whilst taking up teaching duties at the university, completing my Ph.D. over the following years. By that point, I was an academic of some standing and the papers I had written had gained some attention within some select circles interested in those sorts of things, but I was tired. Seven years is a long time.
The process of reaching these milestones in my academic progress was exhausting. The hours and intellectual demands taxing on both the body and mind. Not to mention the crippling homesickness that I had felt ever since starting my undergraduate qualification.
I had left my home in Turkey aged nineteen for a scholarship place at a top university in the United States. Whilst I loved my friends, the lecturers, and the challenge of the courses I completed there, and thanked God every day for the opportunities I had been given, from day one, I felt the nagging weight on my shoulders, the feeling in my...
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