Emerging from a year away [from work]

The questions people ask me and what ultimately matters.

I entered this year with big goals - a long list of things I wanted to accomplish. I imagined I’d be fluent in Spanish by Christmas. That I’d work on a dozen articles and keep up this weekly blog. That with all the free time, I’d be at my fittest, flaunting 6-pack abs.

11 months later, sigh, I have the fluency of a 5-year old. I can confidently order everything from a plate of sardines to a great glass of wine, take that imaginary 5-year old. And that’s been the extent of my accomplishments. At least the ones that people in the world seem to care about.

Instead of picking up new skills, I’ve spent this time resting. Endless days where I’ve been so engrossed in a book, that I haven’t left the house. Thank you N K Jemisin for The Fifth Season.

As this time comes to an end, the two questions nearly everyone asks me - 1) What’s it like to travel the world with your partner? and 2) What’s next? Professionally. Of course.

Answering the former is easy.

Prior to this year, the longest vacation we ever went on together was a sum total of five days, including the flights to-and-fro. And no vacations in the 2 years prior to taking the sabbatical. Our honeymoon comprised of 48 hours in one of my favorite cities - Vancouver, British Columbia.

So this gift time off, of waking up without alarms, roaming the streets of cities we’ve dreamed of visiting for decades, watching the whirling dervishes in Turkey, swimming in the bluest waters in Malta, eating an impossibly large pile of Sardines in Spain, bear cub sightings in Alaska, riding rollercoasters all day in an empty(ish) park in Japan - it’s magical.

These moments have filled my cup for years to come.

And yet, some of the best moments this year have been the ones closer to home.

Lakeside dates with small humans and their parents, sleepovers and farmers markets. Long lunches with friends I haven’t seen in years, and even longer dinners with ones that are family. Sitting in the car talking after an event, without the need to rush home and check email. Tending to elderly neighbors, losing hours to their stories of adventures, travels, and dreams. Impromptu chai dates and running off to the park with my neighbor’s kids.

The latter is difficult. Especially when the person across from me is entirely dissatisfied with an ‘I don’t know yet’.

There is so much I’ve loved about the work I’ve done and the businesses I’ve built in the last 15 years. Some of the best people I know, the adult friendships of my 30’s - they’ve been my clients, collaborators, co-conspirators.

I’ve missed them this year.

But work for me has always been a way to escape, to prove, to have a place in the world. I’ve given my best self to it for 15 years, struggling to be present with the people and communities I love.

And a year away from it, has shown me how so much of it matters so little.

Time away from dozens of trivial emails that are meaningless almost as soon as they are sent. Power point jockeying until my eyes hurt and words blend together. Away from the urgency to build a brand, a new revenue stream, social media followers, content.

Time away from all of it has meant I’ve finally had the time to start healing. C-PTSD, chronic back pain and night sweats, autoimmune issues I’ve carried with me for decades. Away from waking up without being startled every morning hoping I hadn’t missed a meeting or being angry at my partner for letting a 30-minute nap turn into 3 hours of snoozing on the couch from constant exhaustion.

This has meant that I’ve finally been able to do things that seem trivial to others. For the first time in my adult life, I’ve cooked for myself when my husband was away instead of snacking on popcorn and fruit for days on end. Real meals, the kind I make for him. The kind I make for everyone else. Please don’t ask what I did for meals as a single person in the before times.

Answering what’s next is hard, when at 40, I’ve only just begun to feel present in my own body.

What ultimately matters - is finding a path forward that makes our world gentler, safer, more dignified for the people in it. I don’t know the form it’ll take or the title I’ll have.

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