Source : INDIA TODAY NEWS
I had taken a year off work to recover from burnout, but returning to work taught me that rest cannot always mean walking away. At 31, my first solo trip reminded me that there is a life beyond deadlines, and I don’t have to wait until I’m exhausted to live it.
Somewhere along the way, I had become very good at getting through the day.
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I would wake up at 7 am, get ready, have breakfast, check the news, and leave for work. A long commute would follow, then stories to file, deadlines to meet, and another assignment waiting around the corner. I love journalism, but I was often so caught up in keeping up that I barely stopped to ask myself how I was doing.
After six years in the media industry, I took a year-long break to recover from burnout and find my way back to myself. I wrote about that experience in May, believing that stepping away was what I needed.
Returning to work brought a different realisation. I didn’t want to leave a career I cared about. I wanted to learn how to make room for myself while building it.
So, at 31, I packed a bag, booked a small guest house on the outskirts of Shimla and set off on my first solo trip.
I imagined treks, long walks, new places and stories to write. What I didn’t expect was that the most meaningful part of the trip would be the time I spent doing none of those things.
I WENT TO THE MOUNTAINS WITH A TO-DO LIST. THEN I THREW IT AWAY
Before the trip, I had planned to trek, explore new places, meet people, and write a story every day. But once I arrived, I scrapped almost everything on the list.
For the next four or five days, I let the day take me wherever it wanted.
I woke up when I felt rested, read for hours, wrote in my diary, and went on long walks. I sat with dogs and petted them until I had made a few furry friends. I had coffee and chocolate cake simply because I wanted to.
Some evenings, I sat on the balcony and watched the stars. I listened to birds chirping, felt the cool mountain air against my face, and let the sunlight fall on my skin. There were moments when I cried, too, and others when I meditated or did nothing at all.
For months, I had been moving from one task to another. In Shimla, I wasn’t trying to be productive or make every moment count. I was simply living, without having to turn every experience into something to accomplish.
It was a feeling I had not realised I had missed so much.
I LOVE MY JOB. BUT WHEN DID BEING BUSY BECOME THE DEFAULT?
I did not take this trip because I wanted to quit my job. I wanted to return feeling better.
You can enjoy your work, have supportive colleagues and feel passionate about your career, yet still experience days when everything becomes overwhelming. For me, the constant movement between deadlines, responsibilities and the next assignment sometimes left little room to switch off.
I began thinking about how easily work can become the organising principle of your life. You wake up thinking about what needs to be done, spend the day doing it and return home with just enough energy to prepare for the next morning. Your personal life becomes whatever time is left over.
This is a wider workplace concern. In March, a report examined how exhaustion has become normalised in many workplaces, with employees struggling to mentally switch off after working hours.
In October, a survey found that 61% of nearly 10,000 jobseekers across eight cities and 83 industries were open to disclosing a mental health day. However, 33% feared that discussing their mental health at work could hurt their career prospects.
These findings made me reflect on how taking time off can sometimes feel like something employees must justify. Having already experienced burnout, I knew the cost of pushing myself too far. This time, however, I wanted to find a way to care for myself without having to step away from my career again.
The trip did not resolve every source of anxiety or make the pressures of working life disappear. It gave me the space to recognise that I needed to make room for myself even when things were going well professionally.
WHAT WAS I ACTUALLY WORKING TOWARDS?
In Shimla, I found myself thinking about a question I had long ignored: what did I want my life to look like beyond my job?
For years, career success had meant working towards better designations, higher salaries, and new opportunities. Those things still mattered to me, but I began wondering whether I had become so focused on the next milestone that I had stopped paying attention to everything else.
This question is also part of a wider conversation about careers. A Great Exit Plan is quietly taking shape in the professional world, with many professionals rethinking conventional career paths and placing greater value on flexibility, freedom, and meaningful work.
For me, that reflection brought back a dream I had carried for years: settling in the mountains and opening a small cafe-bookstore.
It was the kind of place where people could spend hours reading, enjoy a cup of coffee, and find a little quiet in their day. Somewhere between deadlines and daily responsibilities, I had almost stopped imagining what it might take to build it.
Being in Shimla gave me a chance to revisit that dream, not as an escape from journalism but as something I could work towards alongside my career.
FOUR CAFES, SEVERAL CONVERSATIONS AND ONE DREAM I REVISITED
My dream of opening a cafe-bookstore was one reason I paid particular attention to Shimla’s cafes.
I visited four cafes and kept returning to them over the next five days. Some served exceptionally good coffee; others had a warm, cosy atmosphere that made me want to sit for hours with a book.
I also spoke to their owners about what it takes to run a cafe in the hills. Shimla attracts tourists throughout the year, but running a business amid competition and operating costs is not easy. Serving good coffee matters, but so does creating an experience that makes customers want to return.
One conversation stayed with me.
Mr Akshay (name changed on request), who runs a small wooden cafe, told me that the business had started as an idea rather than a lifelong dream. Over the years, it had become his passion.
He spoke about learning something new every day, asking customers what they liked and creating a place where people could make memories. Profits mattered, particularly because he had employees to pay, but so did the experience customers carried home.
His words made me think about the kind of work I wanted to do, whether in journalism or in a business of my own. Work would always involve responsibilities, practical decisions, and financial considerations. But it could also be about building something that mattered to other people.
I returned without a business plan or a fixed timeline. I had not suddenly figured out how to open a cafe-bookstore, and I still had plenty to learn. But the conversations helped me see the dream as something I could explore seriously rather than leave tucked away for some distant future.
I CAME BACK WITH THE SAME JOB, BUT A DIFFERENT PERSPECTIVE
When I returned from Shimla, my deadlines and responsibilities were still waiting. A week away had not magically resolved my anxiety, but it had given me the space to reflect on how I wanted to approach work and life.
The trip was budget-friendly, yet it reminded me how little I needed to feel happy. I want to take at least one solo trip every year, giving myself time to read, explore, and reconnect with my own thoughts.
I still want to grow as a journalist. I still care about doing my job well, meeting deadlines, and building a career. And I still dream of opening a cafe-bookstore in the mountains someday.
What I want to change is the idea that I must achieve one thing before allowing myself to enjoy another. I do not want to keep postponing personal dreams, small pleasures, or time for myself until the next milestone is reached.
My year-long break taught me the value of stepping away when I needed to recover. My seven days in Shimla taught me something different: I can also make room for myself while continuing to work towards the things I want.
At 31, I am learning that I can love my job and remain ambitious without letting work consume my life.
Sometimes, moving forward means allowing yourself to pause.
– Ends
SOURCE :- TIMES OF INDIA
