The Sabbatical That Wasn't

As a millennial working in the tech startup ecosystem, I'm no stranger to hustle culture. This relentless drive to achieve and succeed at any cost has been more than just a professional mantra: it's been my lifestyle. It promises success and fulfillment, yet often delivers exhaustion and burnout. My journey is a testament to the seductive yet destructive nature of hustle culture and how it led me to a point where even a sabbatical couldn't provide the relief I desperately needed.

For as long as I can remember, I've never focused on just one thing. Even as a student, I juggled both secular and Islamic school simultaneously. When I went to university, I challenged myself to focus solely on completing my degree and being a student. To my surprise, I couldn't even enjoy college life. The one year I allowed myself to be "just" a student resulted in boredom and an intense feeling of failure, as if I was wasting my life. At the start of my second year, I transferred to a different campus to work during the day while taking evening classes. And so began, or rather accelerated, my hustle lifestyle, working on two or more projects simultaneously.

In August 2023, my body forced me to take a break. I made this choice despite many of my peers warning me that taking a break was basically committing career suicide. For the first time in my life, I had nothing to do. While this should have been the perfect opportunity to live my best life, the reality is that my sabbatical didn't go as planned. First came the identity crisis, constantly questioning who I was without my career. Then came the guilt of neglecting my family and friends as I started reconnecting with loved ones. I remember being hit by an intense sense of shame when I attended my niece's recital for the first time and was shocked that she could sing. How could I be the "cool aunt" if I didn't even know their hobbies and interests?

After the guilt passed came the excitement of discovering new activities. While this seemed positive, I found myself reverting to the hustle mindset, even with leisure activities. Things meant for relaxation, like reading or painting, felt like tasks on a checklist rather than sources of joy. The ingrained hustle mentality made it difficult to embrace the downtime I so desperately needed. I picked up a book one evening and didn't stop until I finished it; one year later, I've read over 100 books. I found myself scheduling my entire day, including breakfast times and when to draw or read. The pressure to draw daily quickly turned an enjoyable hobby into a chore, and I eventually stopped altogether.

The next phase was the worst: I crashed. Because I hadn't really allowed myself to recover, I had just redirected my focus. The crash was brutal. My burnout wasn't just mental exhaustion; it manifested as physical illnesses. It took being hospitalized for me to realize I needed to make serious changes in my life. The self-inflicted pressure to succeed and be the best was nothing but social conditioning for my generation. The reality is that my loved ones would rather see me happy in their world than miserable trying to change it. I realized the importance of setting boundaries and redefining success.

I finally had to accept that my lifestyle wasn't sustainable. Reevaluating and challenging my beliefs and taking actual time to discover myself was no walk in the park. I believed that if I was going to do anything, I needed to give it my all, no half-assing when life was short. But now I know that sometimes, we need to do the bare minimum to deliver the best results on what's truly important.

My journey through burnout and a challenging sabbatical taught me that true success lies not in relentless hustle but in a balanced and fulfilling life. While most people might think I should have known this earlier when the world was raving about work-life balance, the truth is, I simply thought work-life balance was a first-world privilege I couldn't afford to entertain!