The dominant narrative around career breaks today seems to be that they’re creative sabbaticals, spiritually energising pauses, a time to “prepare” for “the next challenge,” to rest, recharge, and think freely.
My career break wasn’t really any of that.
Don’t get me wrong, maybe they are all that for other people but for me, it’s been more unraveling than relaxing. A time when I spiralled daily.
In April this year, I left my job as a Product Manager in tech with no backup plan and no official notice period, just out.
Now, doing impulsive shit is a quirk of mine that I’m working on, and I acknowledge that quitting without a plan isn’t feasible for everyone and that I was lucky to have a cushion. Regardless, what some people told me would be a “peaceful break” following my hurried exit from the company turned out to be the opposite.
Several things led me to quit, but here’s what I want to focus on: it was my first job, I’d been there for years, and I’d grown close to many of my colleagues. So when I left, it felt like the rug had been pulled from underneath my feet.
Fun? Definitely not. Refreshing? Nope. Energising? No. Necessary? Absolutely.
Why? Because I’d given almost all my time and energy to my first job, the people in it, and the work I did. Insidiously, it became not just a big part of my life but life itself. It didn’t look bad on the surface. I still went on trips. I still wrote stories. I still showed up for family events and spent time with friends. But in hindsight, those things were just breaks and temporary time-outs before I returned to work.
Identity seems to be an awfully tricky thing. Something we subconsciously let define us and control our actions and thoughts. Even though I did all those things that weren’t “work”, I’d still tightly tied my identity (or at least, a big part of it) to my job.
As is the case with vague things like identity, I didn’t realise the extent of the damage I’d done until I quit my job. You’d think that I would’ve jumped back into writing, travelling and soul-searching without skipping a beat, now that I had all the free time in the world. But no, a chunk of my identity was lost, and as a consequence, so was my confidence and motivation.
I struggled to write. I cried in front of people who’d never seen me cry. I lied about why I couldn’t show up to places. I struggled to book trips and needed a few nudges from a friend to just book one flight ticket. I doom-scrolled Instagram like it was a job. I drank and smoked like a sailor on leave. I ghosted my therapist for a month before timidly asking her for another session. I lost my appetite. I applied to 10 jobs in one day and none for the rest of the month. I even told myself that holding onto my lifelong dream of writing a book was just childish, and maybe I should grow up and focus on things like mutual funds or something.
That last one shook me a little because if a friend had told me they were giving up on a dream, I’d have slapped them. So, I did. Metaphorically slap myself, that is.
This career break has been god-awful as you can tell but it’s worthy to ask what, in between the spirals, I did during this career break.
I did a trial work week with an NGO, Sajhe Sapne, whose cause resonated with me. At the end of the week, they gave me feedback - told me some of my suggestions were vague, but called me a “quick learner.”
A short story I submitted got rejected, but the editor personally emailed me to say it was beautiful and just needed a few tweaks (which was kind of them to do.)
I played games.
I talked to friends, my brother and strangers without rushing off.
I did end up getting a shiny job offer from the NGO - Founder’s Office Senior Associate - but after a lot of thinking, I said no to them only because I suspected I’d let it (the work) take over my life. For now, I’ll volunteer with them.
I’ve just accepted a role as a Creative Strategist at an agency I’ve followed for a while now. Back in college, I wrote a “dream resume” on the back of my journal and all it listed were ad agencies. Somewhere in the last few years, I forgot about that. I start next week.
Anyway, what I’m trying to say is this: If you’re in a position to take one - fuck career breaks but also, maybe take one.
Please note: the irony of me posting a blog only after I’ve landed a job again.