In the soup

Messy reflections from the first month of sabbatical

Some housekeeping announcements: First of all: wow. My last post went viral on LinkedIn, which has been such a pleasant surprise! 😅 To re-introduce myself to the 300+ new folks here: I’m Vinamrata, a former product manager of 7+ years, currently on sabbatical for the next 1.5-2 years to figure out my next chapter. In this process, I’m working through my relationship to work, ambition, energy, spirituality, culture, creativity, and impact, and will be writing out reflections, insights, and learnings from that journey in this newsletter. 

Second: multiple folks have reached out to me about virtual tea/coffee chats. As promised, I’ve set up a calendly that you can use to grab time to chat about anything and everything. I’m especially excited to learn from other people’s journeys and gain insights about my audience.  If you aren’t able to grab a slot but want to, please drop a comment so I know to add more times! Now, onto the scheduled programming. 

Here’s a sentence I didn’t expect to write: the first four weeks of my sabbatical have been mired in insecurity. 

Despite all of the planning, I feel incredibly ungrounded, which I haven’t felt since… moving to the US? Starting college? I honestly can’t recall. While I love my newfound freedom and having total control of my time (i.e. taking random walks or watching random YouTube videos in the middle of the day), I’m also incredibly insecure, confused about who I am and how I define myself in the world. 

This insight became clear when I went to a meetup for creative folks interested in climate. I had to introduce myself to many new people, including folks that worked in film/entertainment, which is an area that I’m considering pivoting into. I anxiously dreaded my turn as others around me introduced themselves. Should I say that I’m interested in screenwriting, or that I am a screenwriter? But I haven’t even written a single screenplay. Should I say that I’m interested in production? But I haven’t even worked on a single set. Eventually, I came up with an intro along the lines of “I’m a former tech worker interested in film and writing.” I saw people’s eyes glaze over me, and I concluded that I had failed the intro test, failing to convince people that I had anything valuable to offer. I had proof for this: after the event, I was talking to a group of three women. Someone came up to ask for contact information for all of the other members of the group except me. I shut down, withdrawing from the conversation while fighting back tears. 

The next day, I tried to put the bad interaction out of my mind and focused on making progress on my projects. No matter how hard I tried, the motivation to work had disappeared. I tried switching tasks, but everything felt pointless and forced. You can do it, Vinamrata. It’s just two small tasks. After that, you can take a break. But I wasn’t motivated. I felt deja vu, as if I had time traveled back to six months ago when I had to force myself to get my work done for my day job. But wait, isn’t this supposed to be a sabbatical? Aren’t I supposed to do things that align with my energy rather than forcing myself to do things? I ripped up my to-do list, and took the rest of the day to reflect, cry, walk in nature, and process my feelings. 

The Insight

Two things became clear to me on this walk: 1) I am deeply unsettled without having a clear “label” to explain myself to other people, which is creating further pressure to make progress on projects so I have an explanation for others, despite my inner self’s strong signal that I needed more time and 2) without the labels and credibilities, my ego was deeply, deeply hurt. I am used to people seeing me as a smart and competent person who has something valuable to give. Without that, I feel like a lost sheep, with no clue of who I was or what I was “worth” to others. 

But why is it so important to me to be viewed this way? Why do I not know what I’m worth? I meditated on these questions using the Tonglen method, where I closed my eyes and held space and compassion for mine and others suffering. As I breathed in my suffering, I stumbled onto a memory. I was ten years old, sitting alone during recess, my head buried in a book, looking across the cafeteria and watching everyone else around me in groups, laughing and connecting over cultural moments that I did not understand. I had just moved to the US and struggled to make friends with white, black, and brown Americans in my class, despite my friendliness. I didn’t understand how to connect with them outside of talking about schoolwork which was clearly so uncool. My only “friends” were books and other adults like teachers and librarians, who recognized me for my academic talents. I hung out with my teachers after school, doing extra credit or entering competitions, feeling good about fitting in as a “mature” “smart” and “well behaved” kid. 

I am seen when I am smart. It’s what makes me special. Without it, I do not feel enough. 

It’s why I get an unexplainable high from being productive. It’s why I like having something to work towards. It’s why I put so much pressure on myself to be the best, to do good work. It’s why praise makes me deeply uncomfortable, yet secretly satisfying/relieving. It’s why failure seems so scary and why rejections physically hurt, even if it’s from random strangers who I might never meet again. It’s why my need to achieve sometimes feels like an addiction, and why this period has sometimes felt like withdrawal. 

Rationally, I know that no form of achievement, success, and validation will ever lead me to feel worthy. I need to find it within me. But is it realistic to expect that I’ll always be able to fill my own cup? In relationships, we often talk about not relying on one person to fulfill your every need. How can I expect myself to do the same for myself? But then does that mean I’m always reliant on others for my happiness? 

The contradictions of the “soup”: lush yet barren, green yet sandy, flat yet hilly, and colorful yet grey.

Taking small steps

In short: I’m in the messy soup of figuring out who I am: the sad, shapeless clumps intermixed with defined, tasty bites of clarity. Most days it feels like I have more questions than answers, and the path out of this soup looks further out of reach. On the good days, I have hope, confident that the process will do its thing but needs more time. Despite the lack of big picture clarity, I have learned a ton about myself and how I want to approach my sabbatical. They are: 

1. Going inward. I’m intentionally choosing not to put myself out there, especially in situations or people that trigger my insecurities. This means spending less time on Instagram/Twitter, nixing attending networking events or spaces where I’m surrounded by lots of new people, not saying yes to every invitation to meet/catch up/reachout, and intentionally choosing to spend time with people that make me feel energized/seen/loved. 

2. Reframing productivity. For those of you who know me, I love planning: lists, task managers, and roadmaps are my jam (I was a PM after all). But this level of planning is adding too much pressure and not respecting my energy fluctuations. However, leaving things super free form triggers my anxieties, as I don’t really know what I’m working towards. So, I’m compromising: I have some structure in the form of intentions of what I want to accomplish by the end of the year, but I get to choose which of them I want to tackle (or not tackle) on any given day . My intentions range from creative to learning to inner work goals, and so far, the mix of structure has proved to be fruitful. 

3. Defining and getting the rest that I want. There’s been ad nauseam written about our need for rest given our hyper capitalistic culture. But one thing I’ve recently learned is that rest can look different for different people. For me, I prefer an active, gentle rest, which means doing a mix of things I want to do and have to do, while carving time to engage with the external world. This means having the opportunity to slow down throughout the day (usually by taking walks or meditating), creating blocks for sensory rest (usually through phone-free lunches), and interspersing “project” work with “inner” work (i.e. journaling, meditation, reading, clarity conversations with friends). 

4. Feel the feels. I’ve spent a long time gaslighting myself and needing validation from others to feel what I want to feel. Through therapy and books like Existential Kink, I’ve realized that there are unconscious desires that often drive the thoughts we don’t “like” or “want,” and the only way to have a productive relationship with them is to acknowledge their existence and then they will… chill. This has probably been the most challenging reframe on this list, but when I can do it, I can feel space clearing up inside of me, both physically and mentally, which leaves me feeling just a bit lighter and freer. 

5. Honesty with others. I’m pushing myself to be honest with others in person conversations when close friends check in on me. The transparency has led to a lot of helpful advice and reflection, some of which is reflected in this very post! This is also part of the reason I’m choosing to write this as my next essay topic. 

Looking back, many of these reframes seem intuitive, but sometimes, the only way to really learn is through. Despite the ups and downs, I still feel very confident that the sabbatical was the right move for me, and I’m excited to see what else I uncover on this journey. 

Thing of Note

Recap: This section is my way of bringing attention to a thing, person, or idea that’s meaningful and related to the mission of this newsletter. This week, I want to highlight When Things Fall Apart by Pema Chodron 

One of my projects in the sabbatical is doing one to two month “intensives” over topics that I find fascinating but haven’t had much time to explore. This month, I’m tackling spirituality/religion, specifically focused on reading works from the Buddhist, Hindu, and Islam traditions. Pema Chodron’s book is one of the most accessible avenues to Buddhism, and focuses on a super relevant theme (getting through tough times, which let’s be honest- we can all use). My favorite part about the book is Tonglen practice, which is another way to develop self compassion. Basically, you hold space for yourself and others going through whatever you’re going through, while exuding compassion, peace, and relief to yourself and others. It’s surprisingly healing, and something I’ve incorporated in my meditation practice. 

Thanks for Reading! 

I’m on a journey to create a blended career across the creative arts, tech, and business. This newsletter is my way of sharing my reflections, thoughts, and advice along the way. Here are some ways to support or further collaborate together! 

• I would love feedback on this post. 

  • If you want to see more content like this, heart the post. 

  • Hearing from readers also gives me a ton of energy. Drop a comment below if any of the elements of the soup resonated with you, or if you have any tips/suggestions about navigating out of a similar soup. 

• If you’re figuring out your own career transition or looking for more support in your product career, consider working with me as a coach. Here’s my calendly if you want to get the ball rolling. 

• Huge shout out to

  Shivani
  Cissy Hu
  Lachlan Green
  and Laila M for all their help processing the emotions/feelings in the early stages of my sabbatical. Your friendship and support means a lot to me <3

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