Sabbatical: So what?

[Disclaimer: I'm going to talk about work.  This post represents my personal views and not those of my employer, Google, Inc.]

I have had several people ask me, "So, what did you really learn on your three months off?" as if mastering new recipes or traveling to multiple countries wasn't enough.

In case you're wondering, no -- that wouldn't be enough.  Not for me.  I put no value judgment on what you might do with three months to yourself, but I knew that my time off was to help me strike a better balance between my work and my life.

But the real impact of those twelve weeks away from one of my favorite places in the world has only crystallized after I have returned to work, and it is simply this: I cannot let myself be solely defined by my work because I have inherent value as a person beyond what I do or create.

Let me back up for a minute.

First month of work! 

When I started at Google more than seven years ago (seven years ago seems unreal, but last week was my 7-year Googleversary!), I was as eager as a Noogler could possibly be, filled with joy and ideas and dreams.  If it sounds idyllic, it's because it was -- or, rather, that I was.  And this is the sort of place that will welcome you, where people will value and appreciate you, and, if you are are like me, consume you.  It became not only a place to work, but to grow, to learn and discover more about myself, to make friends, and to visit new places and have new experiences.

Pretty freakin' awesome.

But there's a skill that no one teaches you when you start working, especially if you are predisposed, as I am, to fully diving into a new experience, and that's how to keep balance not only in your working hours (which is very important) but also in yourself, your identity, and the way you value yourself.  If that sounds pretty heavy, it is -- but not in a bad way.  It's natural to be drawn to open identities, and I had my pick of them in my new, charmed life. Naturally, I gravitated towards roles like "achiever" and "workaholic" and "most awesome employee ever."

But, more than that, I had the chance to create and to make so many things of my own. For example, I got involved in education my very first week on the job with the tech talks program, and from there I started scheduling classes, then coaching facilitators, then designing courses, and then... well, I'm still going through this constant evolution.  In doing so, I developed a strong identity as an educator, a consultant, a designer, a coach, a mentor, and a leader.  I found it was impossible to not care about the people around me, as for me it is relationships that mean so much more to me than a program or a deliverable.

As I started strengthening these different identities, though, other identities faded and became weaker. This is not to say that they disappeared -- not overnight, at least.  But slowly I considered myself not so much of a pianist anymore, though that has been a key identity for me since I was six years old.  When I left college, I had a very strong identity as a writer and I was convinced that I would finish my first book by the time I was thirty. And I would have introduced myself to you as a runner because there were few feelings I loved more than lacing up my shoes.

I let those identities slowly slip away and let my work identity eclipse them.  And it happened so gradually that it took years to realize what I happened.  I didn't have the words to describe it until very recently, when I read an interesting book related to relationships.  But the terms, I feel, fit.

Google, our relationship got to a non-ideal place.  We became emotionally fused, and I just can't do it anymore.

So this idea of emotion fusion stems from interpersonal relationships rather than a person's relationship with an inanimate object, like a company, but the idea holds true for me.  You are sucked into a false closeness, an emotional connection that requires validation from others instead of from yourself.  And I love my job and my work, but I loved it so much that any slight, any negative feedback or anything that shouldn't bother me did.  It's important to be connected to your work, but still independent enough to not define yourself in that way.

And I got stuck in that bad place.  I realized that I was more sensitive to change than I thought I was and things that were quite small started affecting me in ways that they shouldn't.  I had enough awareness to know that things weren't balanced, but too sensitive to always catch myself in the moment and know that I needed to change how I was thinking about and responding to events.

Since I have returned, no fewer than ten people have told me that I look so much happier, lighter, and calmer.  And you know what? That's how I feel.  I feel happier, lighter, and more at peace.  That's the most important part -- I feel engaged and excited but not consumed.  I'll never lose my love and my passion for my work -- I just have a better perspective for how it fits into a richer, fuller life now.

And that's a lesson I'm glad I learned.

xo
Sarah