I gave up a well-paying job moving up the IT ranks at a major national recession-proof corporation because I came down with a case of wanderlust. I squandered the money I had left and found a passion as a rock climbing instructor that left me worse off than broke. I owed money to two different national banks and was unable to open a new checking account anywhere for years. I worked a retail job for an outdoor store in one of the most economically depressed areas of the state, until I was fired for constantly being five to fifteen minutes late to work. I had no other job prospects and was left with a resume and work history that would ensure I was unemployable at my previous levels for pretty much the rest of my life. I gambled what I had left, which was almost nothing, and moved to another place with the hopes of getting a job I saw in a newspaper ad and starting over again. I was homeless and I lived out of my car for a while.
There.
See, the thing is, nobody actually wants to hear that shit. Everybody wants to hear about why that whole period of life was actually really amazing (and some parts of it were pretty good), or they want to hear the upbeat happy ending (and there is one, in this case).
But nobody wants to actually hear about a lack of success, or, like that Cake song goes, a bit of interrupted prosperity.
The people that have those stories to tell pretty quickly learn not to tell them, and what's left are people whose version of failure is, "I screwed up an account one time."