The Sabbatical
My aunt likes to say, “Five years will go by no matter what you choose. So where do you want to be in five years?”
Another year down. 2024 was a big year, but then again, I say that every year. This past year, though, I made another big decision…
…to take a sabbatical.
Except this is America, so if you want to take two weeks off or more in a row, you have to quit your job. So, that’s what I did.
By all accounts, I’ve been successful in Washington, DC and transitioning from my military career to civilian. But wow, I’m tired. I’ve been tired since I was twenty-five despite prioritizing health, fitness, and my mental peace. I can forage the energy to get through one more week, one more month, one more year even. Then there’s that wall again, that feeling that I can’t take one more step without coming undone, and I take one more step anyway, because I do not have a trust fund, and the cycle repeats. My body is keeping score and it’s starting to catch up with me. I have a doctor’s appointment 2-3 times a month and I’m only 31! I feel 41.
As I’ve long said, how does anyone do this WITH children?!
Not only am I tired, but there is also long list (and growing) of things I want to try, people I want to see, and topics I want to learn—that I can’t also do while I’m working full time. For one thing, I wanted to continue working on this blog—a project I had to stop for an entire year under the demands of my most recent position. I must frequently remind myself of my age, because although I’m very proud of my profession, I also feel time slipping. I also find myself daydreaming about all the other things I could, would, should be doing instead of sitting at a computer screen in a windowless room for a third of my waking life, even when I feel strongly about the mission.
Again—and I can’t over emphasize this—I am very proud of what I do, very privileged. So, this decision is wrapped in a lovely shame blanket. I shouldn’t be this tired this young! People do this with children, surely I can do this childless! Why is this so hard? Everyone does this, what makes me think I’m so special that I can just ‘opt out’ for even a little bit? If I stop now, my career will never recover. This mission is too important to take a knee, especially not NOW! No one will understand, because no one does this, because it’s not normal. You know any Gen X colleague is going to think you’re selfish, entitled (to what, I never know), never worked a hard day in your life, doesn’t even know the meaning of struggle, has literally no idea how this world works and lives in a fantasy world.
Except on that very last point, I do know how this works. I see it playing out every day with my peers who are “supposed to be the young, energetic ones”—or so we’re frequently told. But we’re all tired, and many of us actually like our jobs! We were the if you find a job you like, you’ll never work a day in your life generation. So, we did that, and as it turns out, it’s all still work. It’s certainly far better to be tired in a job you like than tired in a job you hate. Trust me, though, if our employers didn’t have to pay us, they absolutely wouldn’t. So, we can all stop pretending that personal work fulfillment will afford these student loan payments.
I’m starting to think this is part of the capitalist playbook—if you can’t keep the masses poor, then keep them too tired to realize their hunger can only be satiated by time with people they care about instead of stuff, albeit very pretty stuff. I wish I could pretend to play the game a little longer—I was doing quite well—but I’m just too tried to play pretend anymore.
My millennial colleagues have been more empathetic, but still ask quite confused, “But what will you do with all that time?”
“Everything I haven’t been doing, because I work full time,” I respond.
Close friends and family have been very supportive, even envious sometimes, saying they’re proud of me. However, I’m still in the, “You do know I basically failed right? That’s what quitting is” stage. Right when I was approaching my financial goals at the greatest velocity than any other point in my life, I quit. I turned off that faucet. What is wrong with me?
I’ve been counseled many times that I can be quite hard on myself.
Deep down I know that you have to close yourself off to certain opportunities in order to make space for others (hopefully better), but this part right as you close that really great door and can’t quite see anything else is quite scary.
I don’t know how long this sabbatical will last—six months, twelve, a few years. I have healthy savings and investments, support from my VA, particularly with healthcare, and promising part-time work to supplement my lifestyle. So, there’s this other part of me that thinks, what 31-year-old can afford to not work full time for a few months? If I don’t try this now, am I squandering this privilege?
I also know I’m the type of person where when I finally achieve a longtime goal, I often feel as though I’ve simply met expectations. If I’m not barreling toward my goal, I’m wasting precious fucking time, but as I get closer, the goal post seems to move further and further away. It’s like the opposite of imposter syndrome, it’s the my-success-is-inadequate-because-if-I-can-achieve-it-then-it-clearly-wasn’t-hard-enough syndrome. I acknowledge this is a no-win loop. That’s the point.
When will enough actually feel like enough? How do I learn to feel proud of myself again? How do I learn to believe that a rest is tolerable in pursuit of my goals?
I’m taking one anyway.
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