My uncle came from a wealthy family in South Dublin who supported him in everything, he was always cherished as the youngest, he got a PhD from Cambridge, got married to a physicist, moved to Heidelberg. She found work, he couldn't as his field of research was more specialised and he couldn't speak German well enough to get a job. He started drinking at home while she'd be out at work, she eventually left him and cut all ties.
He moved to Cork and ended up dying alone in an bedsit near Tivoli at the age of 37, surrounded by empty vodka bottles.
I always think of his story when I have to tell myself to calm down and start taking things more seriously. Can happen to anyone.