But first, you might be wondering why I decided to take a sabbatical: 

I wasn’t burnt out. It would’ve been kinda ironic if I’d written a book on burnout – and then got burnt out. No. The best way to describe the reason for taking my sabbatical is to use a metaphor…

If my life was a garden and I’m the soil, this soil has produced an incredible “crop”. Three children - all of them turning into cool humans. A 25 year relationship with a partner who still makes me laugh until I pee. A professional career full of pinnacles and shiny badges of success – even a bestselling book and a profitable leadership coaching business. 

Of course, this garden has had its fair share of droughts and storms too. Death, grief, regret, guilt, yearning and worry have visited my garden. But it’s a beautiful garden. It’s one I’m proud of and, on good days,  one I notice, revel in, and am immensely grateful for. 

But it’s been harvest season for quite a while. Every good farmer knows that soil needs to lie fallow every now and again. The ground benefits from a season where there are no crops to sow, and no harvest to reap. This is a time to allow the soil to rest, recover and … well, …be nothing but soil. There might be a bit of ‘adding in’ – perhaps some fertiliser or treatments – but there’s very little ‘taking out’. 

So that’s what my sabbatical was all about. 

When did I decide to take it? 

It started as a subtle discontent about mid 2024. The sea change breeze which started as a touch on my cheek, became a howling wind by October 2024. 

This wind represented a change in what was becoming important to me. My life’s  largely been about achievement. This need to achieve has been a big driver since I was a teenager – not just in my professional life, although it’s been a significant driving force there, without a doubt. A need to “do well” and be “good enough” in all areas of my world has been a strident siren. I don’t want to knock that drive. I’m proud of my garden – in part – created by this desire to achieve. But, I also wanted to experiment with whether another type of existence was possible…

About now in my sabbatical story, I want to acknowledge my privilege. The fact I can even consider a sabbatical is in part because of who I am and where I come from – and the fact that I married a very clever, hardworking husband who’s always been supportive of my dreams. But I’ve also worked bloody hard to get to this place where a sabbatical as a self-employed person is a possibility too. 

So, what did I do?

I took from January 1st to 30 March 2025 off work. Well, virtually…. It’s what I’ve termed my “almost sabbatical”. I worked only one day a week. My lovely EA of 14 years, Treena Pitham, took over my email and all logistical stuff. Christina from Intelligent Ink and Amy Cunningham took over my social media and The Leader’s Digest. We front-loaded a whole lot of content and comms in December. My accountants Johnston Associates kept the wheels turning and I cut back on costs where I could. I honoured sessions already booked with clients.

There were a few weeks where I ended up working closer to 2 days that week. Boundaries are obviously still a work-on for me. But Treena got cross with me around late February for checking my emails when I shouldn’t, and working more than our agreed one day a week. She let me know about it in no uncertain terms. So that was the end of that. This was the nudge I needed to really, finally, switch off. 

What was hard about this sabbatical?

Financial considerations and planning. I worried about how I could afford to have reduced revenue for three months. After all, I’m self-employed. I had to ask myself, “what am I willing to sacrifice in order to make this happen?” It’s a simple question, but one which made me squirm when I answered it honestly.

Identity. Turns out, I’m more attached to my professional identity than I thought I was. This was the biggest surprise of my sabbatical. It was also the most difficult and profound challenge of this periodic step away from work. 

“Who am I if I’m not “professional Suzi?” “What’s my worth if I’m not out there, producing? (whatever “out there” and “producing “means).

This sabbatical forced me to look closely at other parts of my life which have, if I’m honest, taken a back seat to work. My health, my most important relationships, including perhaps the most challenging one, my relationship with myself. 

Learning the value of being vs doing. About 9 weeks into my sabbatical, after I’d ticked off all those life admin to-do list tasks, like cleaning out the upstairs closet, going to the dentist, and taking that stuff in the boot of the car to the Salvation Army, I was visited by a feeling I’d long forgotten: Boredom. 

It was 2pm on a Tuesday afternoon and I was lying on our blue couch, cat napping. My chores were done, and I had an hour until “teenage mother” duties began. It dawned on me that I was…. bored. Rather than feeling uncomfortable, this long forgotten state was delicious. It’s been over 23 years since I’ve felt bored – “before kids” time even.

I’ve been in action and doing mode for so long, dropping into “being” mode took some getting used to. I felt guilty if I wasn’t doing something active. Case in point: I’d had lofty goals around my sabbatical, like taking up tennis and learning how to use my expensive camera. I didn’t do either of those things. I want to do these things – I really, really do. But those three months seemed to ask me instead, to rest and not do very much at all! 

My need for solitude. Great swathes of time on my own was like realising how thirsty I’d been and suddenly being able to drink from a hose. But this meant letting others down who had wanted to spend more time with me and saying no to loads of stuff I felt like I should say yes to. 

If you were to do one, the friction points might feel like they’re in different places for you. 

Lessons I can offer after taking my sabbatical 

1. Insights, epiphanies and clarity rarely arrive when we’re rushing and in action mode all the time. However, they can land on us gently (or sometimes quite confrontingly!) when we stop for more than just a couple of moments. 
2. Distance gives perspective. I’d been struggling to nail down my next big thing or focus for my business. I’m now laser focused on what that is for the next year; that’s my leadership programme for emerging and mid level managers, The Leader’s Map. I’m also much clearer on what I’m going to STOP doing.
3. If you want to take a sabbatical, you need to start planning and preparing for it a while before you do it. Also, speak to those who’ve gone before you – a big shout out and thanks to Digby Scott for being a sherpa for me as I approached my career break. I appreciate you taking the time to share your experiences. 
4. Be prepared to emerge somehow different after your sabbatical. Things will be different when you come out than when you went into your sabbatical journey. Be open to seeing what will change without any preconceived ideas. What does may surprise you. You might slay some sacred cows or just feel your inner voice and intuition take the wheel a bit more. 

What I’m still figuring out

What I value in life, and what now drives me, is changing. Like a teenager who’s outgrown their clothes but who‘s still walking around with their jersey that’s too tight and a bit too short in the sleeves, it’s like I’ve suddenly realised my clothes no longer fit. I can see that jersey looks a bit ridiculous now. Achievement, accomplishment, and external markers of success don’t hold the same ‘charge’ for me anymore. The jersey I now want to wear is a bit more comfy and soft – full of connection, peace, joy and something else I still can’t yet quite pinpoint. 

I’ve returned from my sabbatical this month and am feeling a surge of energy for the projects I am working on, and the people I am working with.  Letting the soil lie fallow has helped me to feel well-resourced to grow something even greater.  

I can say, unequivocally, that’s it been one of the best decisions of my life.