I left my job on April Fools’ Day, but turns out, the joke’s on me.
I didn’t expect my first week of voluntary unemployment to coincide with the biggest market drop since March 2020.
What was supposed to be a week of rest, reflection, and relief quickly turned into… panic.
On day one, I noticed Pinterest stock had dropped and my husband joked that “key personnel” leaving (aka me) must’ve triggered it. On day two, my parents casually mentioned their retirement account had taken a hit.
That’s when it really landed: our savings just took a major blow too.
And the wild part? I chose this. I willingly walked away from a stable, well-paying job to take a sabbatical and not make any money for a while.
Suddenly I found myself wondering, Did I just pick the worst possible time to leave my job?
I felt grounded in my decision… until a black swan event hit, the market turned bear, and fear crept in.
The cultural narrative often centers on dads feeling pressure to provide, but let’s be real, moms carry that weight too.
I’ve always been a provider. For over 15 years, I’ve worked, earned, contributed. It’s part of my identity. So it already felt strange not bringing in income.
But as talk of a recession picked up and the economy wobbled, my confidence started to shake. Suddenly, I was swimming in guilt, in questions that didn’t have easy answers:
Did I make a mistake?
Was I being selfish by leaving?
Am I a bad mom for risking our financial stability?
Even if stepping away was the right move, the idea of building something new in this environment felt terrifying. Who’s going to pay me when everyone’s tightening their wallets?
I caught myself spiraling, checking the markets, re-running our budget, and even wondering, Should I undo this and go get another job?
It’s tempting to say, “Forget the sabbatical. Time to hustle.”
My instincts want to sprint, to fill the space, to prove I’m still valuable by doing something, anything.
It’s how I’ve coped for years. When things feel uncertain, I spring into action and move faster.
But maybe the opposite is true. Maybe this is exactly when I need to pause. To slow down long enough to hear what’s underneath the fear.
I didn’t leave my job to panic. I left because I wanted something different. Because I knew I needed a break, a chance to come home to myself.
I don’t want to build something from urgency. I want to build from clarity. From conviction. From a place that feels deeply aligned.
And that requires space, even when it’s wildly uncomfortable.
I’m already noticing just how hard it is to do nothing.
Last week we spent a few days visiting my parents for spring break, and for the first time in a long time, I had no meetings, no Slack messages to check.
Still, I kept reaching for my phone like a reflex, not because anyone needed me, but because stillness felt foreign.
It’s wild how hard it is to just be.
Even playing with my kids felt uncomfortable. Every time I felt a little bored, I noticed the itch - for the next dopamine hit, the next thing to do.
This isn’t just about time off.
It’s about unlearning the pace I’ve been keeping for years.
Right after I left, I asked LinkedIn for advice on how to make the most of my sabbatical (classic me, trying to optimize everything).
The responses were so thoughtful and generous, but a few ideas really stuck:
Embrace going inward: journal, read, reflect on who I am now, in this season
Try themed weeks, like “Do Nothing” week or “Adventure” week
Create a joy menu - not a checklist, but a gentle list of things to choose from when they feel right
But the one piece of advice that hit the hardest?
Don’t make decisions out of fear.
That’s the compass I’m trying to follow now, especially as fear creeps back in loudly.
Maybe the joke wasn’t on me after all.
Maybe this black swan didn’t come to break my plans - maybe it came to reroute them.
To teach me something. To make sure I build with intention, not just out of fear.
Some of the best companies were started during downturns. Constraints force clarity. They make you brutally honest about what really matters, and what doesn’t. And they push you to think creatively about building something of real value.
So here’s my plan for the rest of the month: Live life on my time.
Rest and let my nervous system reset
Put away the phone (and maybe the headlines)
Make space for the things I never could do when I was working, including doing nothing
And most importantly, keep asking myself, gently and often: What do I want?
Then really listen. And trust the answer, even when it scares me.
Because sometimes the best time to start over… is when you’re scared and doing it anyway.
Namaste,
Tamara
Sending you lots of caring support as you navigate this—and grateful for you sharing the journey in real time. There is no “good time” to step back and I find that scarcity mentality has a way of creeping in always, but MAN the universe didn’t do you any favors on that front.
Also…SO happy to see that the joy menu idea stuck with you. Would love to hear what ends up on yours as I’m trying to constantly add to my own! ✨
Beautifully stated and a well-timed reframe reminder for me as well. Our pauses were always powered by intentionality and a reset in order to move towards a more fulfilling version of what's next.