My Sabbatical

I first learned about sabbaticals while studying in the United States. At the time, my mentor – a gifted young woman – casually mentioned she was taking a year off. I was amazed, not just by the fact that she could step away for so long, but by how natural it seemed to everyone around her. The idea stuck with me.

Back in Romania, I gradually built a career I’ve always taken great pride in. Working for both the Romanian and British governments, developing a network of contacts from all walks of life and at every level of decision-making, and occasionally having the privilege of inspiring others, has validated me both professionally and personally.

As I wrote in my bio, one of my proudest achievements has been establishing an internship program that provided dozens of young Romanians – and even a Norwegian with a Romanian girlfriend – with an opportunity to learn about diplomacy and international relations, adding valuable experience to their CVs.

Despite a thriving career, as I approached my mid-40s, I found myself craving solitude – deliberately stepping back from an otherwise busy social life. On one occasion, I took three weeks off in a row, hoping that a proper break would recharge me. But there was no return to my usual “busy bee” mode. I searched for out-of-the-box solutions to “fix” myself, but the body has its own way of enforcing limits.

By the spring of 2019, I had to put the brakes on. I decided to take my sabbatical – the coveted year off – and assumed that after a month of “me time,” I’d shake off the burnout and finally enjoy the sunny weather and the company of my loved ones. But as the second month began, I felt even more exhausted.

I could barely get out of bed. Even a simple trip to the grocery shop felt daunting. I lived off canned food I’d stockpiled for emergencies – earthquakes, I once thought. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

Emerging from that Valley of Sorrow, my first step was to find a trusted psychotherapist – to understand how I had reached this point, which I saw as a personal failure, and to explore the way forward. This wasn’t an existential crisis; it was a full-scale physical shutdown.

My sabbatical coincided, in part, with the COVID-19 pandemic, which, in an unexpected way, worked in my favor. It allowed me to focus more on my family’s well-being and less on professional pressures. Still, returning to work took longer than I had anticipated, as finding the right role proved challenging. In January 2021, I joined a public affairs agency, and gradually, things fell back into place.

If I could offer advice to my younger self, let’s say in my mid-30s, I would stress the importance of downtime. Of switching off my phone. Of walking, one of the simplest and most effective ways to calm the nervous system. And, above all, of having the courage to set boundaries. Or as my psychotherapist put it: “Boundaries, boundaries, boundaries.”

Maybe some of this resonates with you, maybe you’ve felt the weight of burnout and want to take action before it takes its toll.