Five years ago, I was working in a beige cubicle with no windows in downtown Chicago. There was nothing wrong with my job on paper – the pay was good, I had fabulous coworkers, a healthy working environment and a relatively stress-free commute.  Every morning, I arrived early to enjoy my Venti Starbucks coffee before my coworkers began to trickle in and I thought, well, it’s not happiness, exactly, but I’m content enough…I think? I didn’t technically have anything to complain about.  I had job security and health insurance.  I didn’t bring my work home.  So, I gained a few pounds from being largely sedentary and snacking on the pastries that inevitably filled the break-room at lunch.  So, there were lulls of boredom or stress when working up to deadlines.  So, it wasn’t my life’s passion…