I tried to make my joy a job
Things I’ve learned on this brief sabbatical
I’m currently taking a sabbatical, but I didn’t choose this pause; it chose me. After twelve years in corporate America sprinting at full speed, I am now at a dead end. On this dead end, I’m sorting through all the habits, routines, deadlines, and networks that no longer serve me. And while I do see the silver lining and privilege in this opportunity, it’s painful at times to sit in the pause. Ironically, I think it’s the pause we all crave most.
In the first week, the unraveling of bad habits began. I quickly recognized how many times I opened my phone just to check. The habit of checking emails, WhatsApp, LinkedIn, and Instagram notifications became pretty silly after the first few hours. I guess this fills our human desire for self-importance at some level.
Next, I noticed the difficulty sleeping as my mind filled with thoughts that I typically never had time for during a 12-hour workday. I lay in bed just wondering, what do I do tomorrow? How long will I be in this state of inertia? The small talk with people got really challenging. Questions about my weekly plans were now easily summed up with the statement, “No clue.” I didn’t feel any desire to elaborate on the amount of laundry or dishes I had time for now. Or how many books I’d read this year already.
Seven days in, I started to look at ways I could plan and prepare for the future. I began organizing my finances, building power points for jobs I don’t have, and taking MasterClasses for skills I could use. I just got really busy. Not a fulfilling kind of busy, the dynamic that self-help books warn you about. Being busy is an addiction. This forced introspection. What did I genuinely want to do with this time? The answer will always be, ride my horse. So I shifted gears.
This forced introspection. What did I genuinely want to do with this time?
This is where passion and obsession took an interesting turn. Since I was nine years old, I’ve wanted to ride horses for a living. I’ve been surrounding myself with horses for as long as it’s been financially or physically possible. I rode for my Div I college team, rode with Olympic coaches, and competed across the country always with this deep purpose surrounding my pursuit: To be one of the greats in my sport. But at 34, with this sabbatical and all this time to be even better at my sport, I was overtaken by a sense of failure. Despite all the time, hard work, and passion in the world, I’m still not a professional equestrian. I was just an equestrian with more free time. So after I’d streamed 10 hours of online courses, ridden four horses, and watched all my competition films, I recognized something problematic.
In an effort to stop obsessing over tasks, I tried to make joy my job. I went home crying because it revealed the unnecessary pressure of perfection. It revealed the deeply rooted impatience I had. My goal hadn’t changed as an athlete; I’d shifted corporate America's pressure instantly onto the thing that brings me joy. No matter what we love to do, joy is a complex matter, and we cannot make it our job. Joy is something we find, not something we force.
Joy is a complex matter and we cannot make it our job.
When I tell people I’m on a sabbatical, they often respond with, “If I were in your shoes, I would...(fill in the blank).”
What this statement has taught me is that I am on the right track. When I think of the days with and without my job, I‘m consistently filled with the deepest joy in doing all the same things. What’s changed is the additional time to pause between each moment right now.
So, I wonder if it’s the pause we all crave. The pause to reflect and think through the things we do mindlessly over the course of our lives. To pause and explore our relationship with perfection. To pause and wonder why we keep tapping our stupid phone screens. To pause and create a better answer to the biggest question:
“What will I do today?”
