As I stirred awake in my childhood bedroom in Costa Rica, far from the hustle and bustle of my former advertising agency life, a text buzzed in, ready to shake up my morning routine.
The sun was barely nudging its way through the clouds as I squinted at the message from a former colleague. “I have to tell you something, but you will get mad,” it warned.
With sleep still clouding my eyes, I couldn’t help but mutter, “What now?”
With a mix of irritation and curiosity, I cracked open the message only to discover that my name had become a hot topic among some old coworkers—people I barely exchanged words with when I actually worked at the agency, mind you. The subject du jour? The reasons behind my resignation and subsequent sabbatical. Their conclusion? Yours truly had apparently fallen to a classic case of burnout.
Let me set the record straight—I’m not one to dodge the truth. If I’d been battling burnout, I’d have no qualms admitting it. In fact, I’d weathered one myself three years prior at a different agency, and I’m all for candid discussions about the toll our jobs can take on our mental and physical well-being in order to promote a healthier approach to work.
Burnout, sadly, is a rite of passage for many of us, proof of our commitment to our work. It’s the hallmark of caring too darn much about what we do—sometimes to our own detriment. But hearing it whispered about from miles away while I was minding my own business was a rude awakening (literally!). It highlighted how easily stories get twisted, especially in the rumor mill of office life.
Offices are like rumor tornadoes, spinning tales faster than a blender whips up a smoothie. I knew if I didn’t seize control, my sabbatical story would become a game of telephone gone wrong. So, I decided to take matters into my own hands.
I turned to LinkedIn (my personal hell of social media platforms), the digital amphitheater where professionals flaunt their careers with unmatched fervor, to announce my hiatus. I penned a candid post, laying bare the reasons behind my sabbatical and my aspirations for this period of soul-searching. It was a vulnerable move, especially on a platform where professional achievements reign supreme. I braced myself for indifference or judgements of unprofessionalism, for the glaring gap in my CV.
But what came next caught me off guard. Instead of judgment, I was met with a flood of support. Colleagues, acquaintances, even strangers, reached out with words of encouragement, solidarity, and invitations for coffee dates—eager to hear the tales that would emerge. It was a potent reminder of the strength found in vulnerability and the importance of owning our narratives.
In sharing my journey, I had tapped into something universal—an experience that resonated with professionals across industries. The response was overwhelming, humbling, and incredibly heartwarming. It was proof that by taking control of our narratives, we not only reclaim our power but also create space for connection that goes beyond professional networking.
So here I am, amidst the lush landscapes of Costa Rica, embracing my sabbatical and the lessons it has to offer. I may have had to confront gossip and judgment along the way, but ultimately, I’m more determined than ever to continue owning my story, one step at a time.
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