But a large, heavy mirror fell over in our home. Broke. Then hit my left leg, creating a six-inch laceration, severing three tendons and a nerve, taking a chip out of my leg bone. (You can read the whole story here!)
Twenty-four hours later, I was in surgery and forced into uninvited rest.
Coaching leaders through sabbatical and major transitions has taught me something: Most of us imagine sabbatical as something we choose. A planned retreat. A strategic pause. An invited, well-timed rest.
But that's not always how rest comes.
Sometimes rest is forced on you by injury. Sometimes it comes because your body finally says "no more" and burnout makes the decision for you. Sometimes it arrives wrapped in a severance package and the sudden space between jobs that you didn't want but now have to navigate.
Sometimes sabbatical isn't a peaceful retreat you planned; it's an uninvited disruption you didn't choose.
The day after my surgery, I was gathered with fellow Full Focus coaches during a Strategic Design Workshop. I was sharing my story when my colleague Ed asked me a question that shifted my entire perspective:
"How are you going to use all of your newly available time, now that you can no longer do the things you used to do?"
Before Ed's question, I was cataloging everything I couldn't do. No standing on ladders. No deck railing project. No fixing the water pump. No installing the storage boxes I'd just purchased.
The list kept growing. And so did my discouragement.
I was grieving the way I wanted to plan a time of rest. The projects I wanted to complete. The physical activities I loved. The sense of productive rest I'd imagined.
But Ed's question reframed everything. Not "What can't you do?" but "What can you now do?"
Same injury. Different lens. Completely different future.
Maybe rest hasn't come the way you wanted either.
Maybe you're recovering from burnout. Not the peaceful, planned kind where you take a strategic pause, but the crash-and-burn kind where your body finally forced you to stop. And now you're sitting in the wreckage wondering if you'll ever feel like yourself again.
Maybe you lost your job. The severance pay gives you a few months, but this isn't the "rest" you would have chosen. There's uncertainty. Fear. Questions about what comes next. And people keep asking "So what are you doing now?" like you're supposed to have it all figured out.
Maybe you're injured, physically or emotionally, and rest isn't a luxury you're choosing. It's a necessity you resent.
Maybe you planned a sabbatical, but what you're experiencing looks nothing like what you expected. You thought you'd feel refreshed by now. Instead you feel lost. Anxious. Guilty for not using this time "better."
Unplanned rest is still rest.
The disruption you didn't choose can still become the space that changes you.
Will you let this uninvited rest teach you something?
Or will you spend the whole time wishing it looked different?
What if the disruption you didn't choose could become the breakthrough you couldn't plan?
Ed's coaching question helped me shift from a scarcity mindset to a growth mindset. The broken mirror forced me to stop seeing only what I'd lost; now I could see what remained. From my circle of concern (all the things I was worried about and couldn't control) to my circle of influence (the things I could actually do something about).
I still had concerns. Real ones. What will rehab look like? How long will recovery take? Will I ever do the things I love again?
But I also had choices. Real ones. I could write. I could reflect. I could use this forced pause for something I'd been longing to do but never had time for.
That injury I didn't want created the time I would never have otherwise made. I exceeded my writing goal. The disruption became the catalyst.
