So, I Took a Sabbatical: Why I Took One

This is part 1 in a series of my sabbatical experience.

I quit my job.

I walked into my boss's office, thanked him, and let him know I'd be leaving the company.

Roughly 3 weeks later there was a Monday without a commute, fluorescent lights, or the buzz of an office.

Just me.

So how in the world did I go from working full time in college, climbing the so-called corporate ladder for 12 years, and landing a leadership position to someone who's simply "taking a break"?

It wasn't a single moment, decision, or outcome, but a combination of things that I can ultimately categorize as just... being human.

First of all, I love working being productive and have never been considered lazy. I always look for opportunities to make tasks a little better or easier the next time. Along the same lines, I like to keep things simple. So simple, in fact, that I'd wear the exact same thing every day because, why not? (My SO vehemently opposes this, so I do, begrudgingly have a wardrobe.)

Clothing choices aside, in the interests of being productive, I made the decision to go all in on being connected to work 100% of the time. As technology advanced, I looked for ways to automate, streamline, and connect.

You're telling me that I can schedule after work drinks with friends, check on the status of my projects, and video chat with my parents all from one device... at the same time?

Yes, please!

And the productivity loss from context switching all the time? Erased by a haze of notifications. My brain literally felt like it was buzzing all the time. Whether it was simply taking a quick peek at email before going into the (physical) office or listening in on a 30 minute conference call during a vacation while out of the office, I was on board.

That may sound like a turn off to some, but I embraced it. My work life blended seamlessly with my personal life. Always connected. Always on.

And I loved the work itself.

It was perfect.

So what happened?

I started to find it difficult to do anything else outside of work because I felt like if I wasn't giving it my full attention, then I wasn't doing what I was being paid for. Whether "on the clock" or not, I was fully engaged with what I was doing.

I didn't have a problem saying No, either. I had a good handle for when I knew an additional assignment would impact the quality of my work or invade the time I would set aside for family and friends.

Despite that, I slowly began to obsess over the things I couldn't change or influence. Repeating the same patterns of the status quo because that's just the way we do things physically wore on me.

And my coping mechanism? Work more. Collaborate and try to help improve things where I could make a difference. This approach was effective. However, the more I worked, the more things would get uncovered, the more influence I needed, and the more I worked to help improve things.

I invented my own hamster wheel.

My SO noticed this and called me out on it. Are you doing ok? You seem stressed.

That question was jarring. I told her Of course! What would make you think that?

Because we just saw the new Star Wars movie and you've said nothing about it.

I couldn't think of a decent reply that didn't involve something that I was obsessing over at work. The seamless integration of work wasn't an integration at all... it was beginning to consume me.

So I did some soul searching (in between emails and deliverables). I talked to a few buddies. Poked around on Google and went through a few blogs and other pieces of career advice. Nothing resonated with me until I read an article about the warning signs of burnout.

I'll spare the details, but needless to say I felt that the article was written about me, specifically. It had to be. It didn't specify what I ate for breakfast, but everything else described me to a "T".

Of course, I was skeptical:

This article is generic.

Click bait.

I love what I do, so I can't be burned out.

That couldn't be further from the truth.

For me, it wasn't from working too much, which is what I always thought caused burnout. I lost focus on my goals: there were only trees and no forest. My obsession didn't align with my goals anymore. I felt physically worn down. I was coming up with creative ways to attempt to get more than 3 hours of sleep a night. I gained over 50 lbs.

(Photo on the right is 50 lbs lighter, flanked by Mom and Dad.)

My identity -- the core of who I was -- became entirely wrapped up in this work persona. I thought I had blended my personal and work lives together, but instead I simply erased my personal life and replaced it with my work life. I was no longer a person that enjoyed long walks on the beach, video games, and nerd culture. I was Mike Barksdale at that (followed by a firm handshake).

Happiness was eliminating technical debt, getting business units to collaborate effectively together, and shaving seconds off of a query (all things I do, actually, enjoy). Making sense of convoluted data that isn't related -- but should be -- from disparate systems that have nothing in common made me ecstatic.

Disney World, on the other hand? Meh. Except the one time I went as a group with some family and friends and watched the Disney associate merge and match accounts in order for our passes to work correctly... which led to an interesting technical discussion of how and why they need to do that...

...yeah...

I'm a wreck.

Around this time, one of my friends was recently coming off of their own sabbatical. He traveled, relaxed... the whole bit. I reached out to him and asked him Why did you do it? What did you do?

I did it because I could. And whatever I wanted.

He shrugged and showed me more pictures on his Instagram of the places he'd been. He was so nonchalant about his response that I was taken aback. I questioned him more and he was even more succinct: Hey, if you want to do it, do it. Otherwise, you need to find something else to do.

Could I do it? I had money saved up. I think I could give this sabbatical thing a try. If I hated it, I could always get another job, right?

So, I quit. I shook my boss's hand, spent three and a half weeks transitioning my activities, knowledge, and experience to my colleagues.

And then... that Monday.

My mobile device was eerily... silent. No notifications, no company emails: just the clock, the weather, and an empty calendar.

Now what?