For the month or so that I have been in Atlanta, I have had to be an adult.

In my case, with no job lined up and not having a car or my license to go places, that has meant being cooped up in the apartment, either looking for jobs, going to interviews via Uber and public transit, or taking care of chores and getting unpacked. There have been plenty of times when I have become too overwhelmed and started having a mental breakdown, questioning if I made the right decision in getting a journalism degree.

My girlfriend is completely understanding of this, and we have made it a point of getting out of the apartment. Now that could mean going to the bars or finding concert series to go to. But that's not what we have done yet (not that we don't plan on it).

It has meant embracing our inner children and finding wonder at the Georgia Aquarium or Zoo Atlanta. It has meant going to explore Rocket Fizz, a candy and soda store in downtown Decatur. It has meant getting to SunTrust Park to take in a Braves game. In the instances when we did stay in, it has meant watching movies like The Incredibles or playing Ty the Tasmanian Tiger on her Steam account. It has even meant eating shaped macaroni and cheese when we couldn't figure out what to have for dinner.

Over the last few years, I have struggled to find anything to help me do this. Christmas did nothing for me, because final exams left me drained. It was a constant cycle of class, work, homework, "fun things" that were really helping me further a possible career in sports broadcasting or journalism, getting food, and falling asleep. I started drinking Monster like it was going out of style because I was perpetually exhausted.

I was a total wreck, and just wanted to do things that reminded of a simpler time, even if it was just for a few hours.

It was more of the same when I got home. I worked five or six days a week, with one of those days until 1:00 in the morning. I would go home and be too tired to do anything. The caffeine addiction continued. I knew I needed some sort of help, but I couldn't quite put my finger on.

As it turns, I am not alone in this. Since 1955, playtime for American children has been in decline. Between 1981 and 1997, in the period of time where there has been the rise of "helicopter parents", play time for 6-8 year olds had spent 18 percent more of their time at school, 145 percent more time doing homework, and a whopping 168 percent more time stuck with their parents shopping. All told, the average 6 year old in 1997 had roughly 11 hours of play time per week, and that includes playing computer games.

The issue here is that children with less playtime overall have a harder time learning how to deal with their emotions and are more likely to deal with depression and anxietyas adults.

The thing about "embracing your inner child" is that it does not necessarily mean that you have to be immature or neglect any responsibility. If done appropriately, this action is about relieving stress without physical crutches like cigarettes or alcohol. Obviously, there are cases of taking it too far, and letting everything slip as a result.

But getting out and just having fun, feeling like a kid again has really helped. I am not always exhausted. I have been able to cut down on how much caffeine I drink (the two Monsters every day thing has dropped to one every couple of days, with two only when necessary). I have just felt a lot happier than I have in who knows how long.

Sure, I know that my adult responsibilities are still there, but only tackling them and not trying to have any fun or do anything that brings back memories of running around and getting dirty. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to make some phone calls about getting my resume situated.

Then I'm putting on The Aristocats, just because I can.