It is only 9.32 on Monday morning, and I already know what today’s Cabin Diaries needs to be about: Sabbatical.
The word came to me this morning as I sat at the dining table with my laptop, Crime Patrol playing quietly in the background. I’d been awake since around 7.15, had already stepped outside onto the porch to take in the mountain air, and felt that unmistakable crispness in the 14-degree morning. Autumn is beginning to make itself known here, even though it is still August. I called Dad to make sure I spoke to him before he flies back to India this afternoon, then made breakfast and settled back inside.
Suddenly, I remembered an article I wrote in April 2021 called Personal Sabbatical – Taking a ‘PAUSE’ in Life. I had written about wanting to take a sabbatical every year. At the time, though, I think I had a very different understanding of what a sabbatical meant. Back then, I think I wanted to step away from my life. Today, I realise I don’t want to escape my life at all. I want quality time inside it, with nobody else requiring anything from me.
My definition of a sabbatical has changed
The traditional definition of a sabbatical is an extended, intentional break from standard work or routine employment, usually with the expectation that you will eventually return to the same job or organisation. That definition doesn’t quite fit my life anymore. I’m self-employed, so I don’t have an employer waiting for me to return, and I don’t necessarily have the financial means to disappear somewhere for two months, six months, or a year and pay for accommodation while I do it. Yes, technically, I could go and stay at Dad’s farmhouse in India for as long as I wanted, but I would still be surrounded by family, and right now, that’s not what I need.
What I need is solitude.
Over the last year, I think I’ve quietly rewritten the meaning of sabbatical for myself. It now means having quality alone time with myself, where I don’t have to or need to be anything to anyone. Time where I can simply be myself, fully and wholeheartedly. And perhaps that is one of the things midlife has taught me most clearly: I don’t need more escape. I need more space to hear myself.
This cabin gives me exactly that.
Last year, during my ten-day stay here, I saw three humans, one car, and a dog. 😂 I remember thinking it was absolute bliss. There was something almost comical about how little human contact I had, but instead of feeling lonely, I felt completely nourished by it. When I eventually returned to my brother’s apartment, I had it to myself for a few more days and was able to be fully present for the She’s Unstoppable Summit with Sage Robbins. I had spent ten days doing nothing but being with myself, and something had shifted. I didn’t realise then how much I would continue carrying those lessons.
Becoming My Own Unleashed Self
It’s still early. The moon has only just surrendered to the first threads of morning light, and my tea, my first quiet ritual of the day, is already finished. The house is silent, apart from the hum of my thoughts.
A year of remembering who I am
One of the things Sage encouraged women to do was to remember who they are beneath the roles they play. That question has stayed with me: Who am I beneath the roles I play? Beneath being a mother, a daughter, a sister, a business owner, a writer, a coach, a woman building a brand, a woman responsible for a Home, a woman who is constantly creating, organising, planning and holding things together, who am I when nobody needs anything from me?
I think I’ve spent the last year finding out. What I’ve discovered is that the woman underneath all those roles isn’t someone I need to reinvent. She’s someone I need to stop abandoning. She’s creative, emotional, sensual, and curious. She’s deeply connected to beauty, loves ritual, nature, seasons, good food, and beautiful spaces. She loves writing from somewhere real. She wants meaningful work, but she doesn’t want work to consume her life. She wants connection, but she also desperately needs solitude. She wants love and intimacy. She wants adventure, but she doesn’t need constant stimulation.
She likes simple things: a cup of tea, a beautiful candle, a good book, a walk, a cosy Home, a well-cut outfit, a conversation that goes somewhere, a mountain view and a quiet morning. She wants a life that feels like hers. I have been learning that remembering who I am isn’t about discovering some hidden woman. It’s about recognising the woman who has been there all along.
I’ve learnt to rise from a kinder place
I’ve also learnt that strength doesn’t have to mean grit and grind. For a long time, I knew how to push through. I knew how to get things done. I knew how to keep going when I was tired, overwhelmed, hurting, or uncertain. But the last year has taught me something different. Sometimes strength looks like stopping. Sometimes it looks like lying down, saying I don’t have the capacity for this today, making tea, and sitting quietly instead of solving the problem. Sometimes it looks like allowing myself to be emotional without immediately turning the emotion into something I need to understand, fix, or teach.
My body has taught me this too. Surgery and recovery forced me to slow down in ways I couldn’t negotiate with. I couldn’t simply decide to power through. Healing demanded patience. Slowly, I began to understand that softness isn’t the opposite of strength. Softness can be the way strength feels when it no longer needs to prove itself. That has changed the way I speak to myself.
I’ve learnt to show up for myself
Perhaps one of the biggest shifts has been learning that showing up for myself isn’t selfish. It is very easy for women to become extraordinarily good at being needed. We anticipate, organise, remember, and accommodate, and somewhere along the way, our own needs can become negotiable. Over the last year, I’ve become much more willing to ask myself, What do I actually want?
Not what I should want. Not what would make someone else happy. Not what would be most convenient. What do I want?
That question has changed things. It has changed my boundaries, my Home, my wardrobe, how I work, what I say yes to, and what I am willing to tolerate. It has changed how I see myself. I’m no longer interested in putting myself at the bottom of my own list and then wondering why I’m exhausted. I want to be on my own list, not occasionally, but daily.
I’ve learnt that sisterhood matters
I’ve also been reminded this year that doing everything alone isn’t the same as being independent. I love solitude. I need solitude. But I also need women. I need conversations where I don’t have to explain the context. I need women who understand the strange, beautiful, messy territory of midlife. I need women who are willing to say, “Yes, me too.”
The work I’m doing through Midlife by Design and The Sattva Collective has made this even clearer to me. The more I share honestly, the more women tell me that they recognise themselves in what I’m saying. That is one of the most beautiful things about this stage of my life. I thought my personal stories were simply mine. I’ve discovered they can become a bridge. Perhaps that’s what sisterhood really is: not women having identical lives, but women recognising something of themselves in one another and saying, I see you.
I’ve learnt to reignite what I had put aside
Somewhere along the way, I also stopped treating joy as optional. Writing, beauty, style, cooking, baking, reading, travel, nature, creating a beautiful Home and making an ordinary evening feel like something aren’t frivolous extras in my life. They’re part of how I feel alive.
I’ve spent much of this year reclaiming things I had either neglected or overcomplicated. I’ve simplified my wardrobe, decluttered my Home, found my writing voice, and rediscovered how much I love sensory storytelling. I’ve started thinking differently about how much content I actually want to create, and I’ve made more space for living.
I’ve realised that joy doesn’t always announce itself. Sometimes it’s putting on the right outfit and thinking, “Oh, there she is.” Sometimes it’s buying a lipstick I actually love and using it instead of saving it for some imaginary occasion. Sometimes it’s lighting a candle while watching television. Sometimes it’s walking into a room I’ve just reset and feeling my shoulders drop. Sometimes it’s sitting on a porch in the Norwegian Highlands at 14 degrees Celsius, breathing in crisp air and looking at mountains.
These tiny things matter. They are life.
I’ve learnt that I don’t need to leave a retreat with all the answers
One of the things I loved about the She’s Unstoppable Summit was the idea of leaving with what you actually need. Not just inspiration or a temporary high, but clarity, calm, and a next step that feels true. I’ve found myself returning to that idea repeatedly over the past year.
Clarity. Calm. Commitment.
First, I ask myself what actually matters. Then I create enough quiet to hear the answer. Then I choose one aligned action. I don’t need to solve my entire life. I need to know what matters now.
And right now, sitting here in the Norwegian Highlands, what matters is remarkably simple. I need rest. Physical rest, emotional rest, and mental rest. After eight months of life, I need to stop moving for a little while. I need to let my nervous system settle, my mind wander, and my body breathe. I need to finish my book if I can, but I don’t need to turn that into a punishment. I need to write, read, walk, journal, drink tea, eat well, sleep, and see what emerges.
I need to go with the flow.
Perhaps this is my sabbatical now
I don’t know what this week will bring. I may have profound realisations, or I may have absolutely none. I may edit half the book and spend the rest of the time staring at the mountains. I may write pages, or I may write nothing. I may walk for hours, or I may stay inside all day. I may wake up one morning and decide that my biggest achievement will be washing my hair, and I’m completely okay with that.
Because this isn’t a productivity retreat. It isn’t a business strategy week. It isn’t a transformation project. It isn’t another thing I need to get right. It is simply time with myself.
Perhaps that’s what has changed most since I first wrote about wanting a personal sabbatical in 2021. Back then, I wanted to take a break from life. Now, I want to take a break from being available to life. There is a difference.
I’m still here. I’m still me. My work still exists, my responsibilities still exist, my relationships still exist, and my plans for September and beyond are waiting for me. The 49-to-50 Project is waiting. The Meet-Cute experiment is waiting (will share more on this soon 😉). The gym is waiting. My Home is waiting. But for this little pocket of time, none of them need me.
And I don’t need to be anything for anyone.
I can simply sit here, with my tea and my laptop, listening to Crime Patrol in the background while the mountains sit quietly outside the window. I can breathe. I can rest. I can be.
Perhaps that is my sabbatical now: not an escape from my life, but a return to myself.
Kiran x
Kiransinghuk.com | The Sattva Collective
