I’ve been failing at my sabbatical. That’s the word I’ve been choosing to describe this period of stepping back from the work for which I once felt such devotion. It sounded like a more romantic word than “break” and a less confusing term than “gap year” and a less dramatic designation than “mid-life crisis.” It could be a bit of a misnomer in that sabbaticals are often a time of paid leave and often associated with college professors, but it’s not strictly speaking defined by either of those conditions. Meriam-Webster defines it as “a period of time during which someone does not work at his or her regular job and is able to rest, travel, do research, etc.”
The word sabbatical also comes from the word “sabbath” and is meant to evoke a period of rest and restoration. And certainly, many of us could use that after the last year and a half we’ve all experienced. So how have I failed at my sabbatical? Well, it’s pretty hard to “rest” when you’re busy beating yourself up. Since I declared my time off, I’ve spent most of my days feeling guilty, ashamed, lost, and embarrassed. Those emotions are hardly relaxing.
I grew up the daughter of two baby boomers whose work ethics were relentless and inspiring. The example they set implied that consistent, hard work was expected and valued. I was a Gen X woman myself, the first generation of what they called “superwomen”…
