sabbatical

 
I’m on sabbatical.

What, exactly, does that mean? I’m taking an intentional break from full-time employment in order to concentrate my time on wellness, rest and rejuvenation. 

I always thought it sounded a bit gratuitous or even a bit of a copout (pre-pandemic, specifically) when I would hear of someone abandoning their responsibilities or career in favor of, well, doing nothing. Celebrities and their “rehab” giving this kind of step back a bad name, in some cases. A built-in excuse to disengage from a situation that’s uncomfortable or a reason to not be accountable for your actions.

But recently “going on sabbatical” has come to mean something else to me. And being intentional about the reasons why I require it has set me free in a number of ways from an antiquated way of thinking and unhealthy routines that have kept me motoring along on a hamster wheel of dissatisfaction.

I know in the past, I’ve been more clever with my analogies and musings. Written things in a way where my intention and experience was more veiled. But it’s time to drop that shit because speaking my truth could potentially help someone else who feels this way. 

So here we go…

Working in the service industry sucks the life out of you. As rewarding as it can be to help someone who needs guidance, to assist someone getting their business off the ground, to put all your skills to their best use and make others feel validated and supported…working in any kind of service industry capacity will drain you like a thirsty vampire. Even if you enjoy it. Even if you find reward in that work. 

I left my job of five years in January because I needed a change; I was in a stress cycle that was starting to elevate even the smallest of frustrations into larger issues because I was at the end of my rope. With the exception of two months, I worked every day through the first two years of the pandemic…without seeing family, limiting my social circle and basically watching the world shut down around me. I worked. Clients taking out their frustrations on me, my coworkers, my boss, and dealing with supply chain issues I’ve never experienced in my adult life. People were downright unreasonable, rude, and projecting their insecurities all over the place while I was expected to remain steady and sane with things falling apart around me. It was too much. So, I made a change.

That change was good. And I threw myself into it headfirst. Even though I didn’t take a break in between jobs, the pace was different and I pivoted. Like I always do. Soon after, a series of events were set in motion that saw me taking on more and more, pivoting further away from I had been set to focus on; I had wanted to move away from having to be everything to everyone and to a more specific set of duties where I could really dig in and hone and flex my marketing and design muscles. I adjusted. In any small business/organization, you need to be a team player. That is understandable, and throughout most of my career, it is how I’ve learned to grow as a person and to expand my skill set. I learned early that my work ethic is expansive. But as I took on more and more, I realized that my fuse was much shorter, my frustrations were building on top of a base of frustrations I never fully dealt with, and the stress was affecting me mentally and physically in some pretty undeniable ways.

On top of all of this, I’m entering a new stage of life - a perplexing and often inexplicable set of symptoms and hormones raging against the machine in a fun new way known as perimenopause (pre-menopause transition for those out there who have no clue what I’m referring to…probably mostly dudes, sorry not sorry). More on this later, because it’s an absolutely bizarre time of life and deserves its own post. 

So, I made a conscious and intentional choice to go on sabbatical. This is not a vacation. This is conscious burnout. I extricated myself from employment, a banal daily routine, and an unsatisfying time in my life. I’ve been at it for about a week, and it’s fucking fantastic. I’m not going to sit here and pretend like I don’t have a certain amount of privilege to be able to do so. I don’t have children…unless you count my extra feisty (and I’m also convinced she’s in menopause) feline bff Stella. I have a rainy day money stash. I have a roof over my head. I am privileged to be able to take an extended time off work. But I have also earned it. I worked for it.

I have been uninspired. I haven’t picked up my Nikon in over a year. I haven’t written anything of substance in over two years. I killed almost every plant in my porch garden this summer (talk about a visual metaphor for how I was feeling) and watched them wither and die without watering them. I stopped cooking and experimenting with food. Anything creative was stalled. They didn’t always say it out loud, but my friends and family knew I was unhappy.

In this one week since I chose my mental and physical health above everything else, I have started seeing glimmers of my old self again. And that’s what this timeframe is really about. I’ve given myself permission to not be caught up in what my next move should be. In fact, I’m not even allowing myself to think about it for the next month or two. I’ve been doing yoga again. I finished reading two books I picked up and started, but didn’t make it to the end. I’ve been cleaning the pantry, removing clutter and deep cleaning the apartment. I have been getting enough sleep to feel rested. I’ve been going on walks and short hikes. I’m eating better and starting to look at recipes and explore my produce market again. I’m playing with Stella every day. I’m sitting in the sunshine, and letting all the light in.

And now I’m going to get off my laptop and go read the first book on the top of a stack I’ve been meaning to get to. It feels good. And I feel free. Because I own my time and what I do with it.