11 Weeks, 8 Countries, And The Thing I'm Terrified Of

A lot of people have reached out lately asking about my upcoming sabbatical. Mostly the where and the how. But I also want to tell you the part that matters most, and the part I’m most nervous to talk about: the why.

Let's start with the easy stuff… the where and the how.

For 11 weeks, I’ll be living around Europe.

I’m starting in the south of France with Jay for 10 days, which is my way of acknowledging that maybe going directly from color-coded calendars and batch recording podcast episodes to “completely untethered human with absolutely nothing to do” might break my brain a little.

Because… I’ve taken vacations before. I have never taken nearly three months off from work while also living away from home.

I needed some sort of transition to ease my way in.

From there: Portugal, Spain, Italy, France (again), Belgium, Luxembourg (because small countries deserve love too), Denmark, and Iceland.

Some of it will be solo.
Some with JJ.
Some with Jay.
Some with my mom.
My sister and her sweet little family are coming for a week.
And I’ll even get to meet a few podcast guests and email friends in real life, which I’m super excited about.

There will be some hotel-snob-approved stays. Obviously.
(And yes, I’ll probably share them on my ridiculous little Instagram account dedicated to excellent hotels if you’re interested: @hotel_snob_approved)

But there will also be apartments and Airbnbs because the point isn’t to feel like I’m on vacation for 11 weeks. The point is to experience life differently.

Also: budget.

There will be cheese and bread in whatever form each country wants to present it to me. There will be wine.

There will be books. Technically, a Kindle, which hurts my soul a little because I am emphatically a BOOK person, but lugging 14 hardcovers across Europe feels like a cry for help.

I suspect there will be one café a day, minimum. Many walks where I have absolutely no clue where I am, or where I’m going.

A few historical tours. A few food tours. Because “learning” and “eating” are my hobbies.

And honestly? Beyond that… I have no idea.

Which is both the whole point and pretty terrifying.

If I have a funny story, an embarrassing story, or most likely, an embarrassingly funny story… I may pop in here and share it.

If I have an epiphany or a rant or some life-changing realization while eating butter in a French café, maybe you’ll hear about that too.

But there are no commitments.
No timelines.
No pressure to produce anything meaningful from any of it.

Because the “why” behind this sabbatical matters more than the itinerary ever could.

It’s a combination of things: a long-held wish to live abroad, even briefly. A celebration of turning 50… and if you know me, you know I genuinely love getting older. I love the clarity of knowing what matters and caring less about everything else.

I love feeling more comfortable in my own skin.

I also love the invisibility that comes with getting older as a woman, which I know isn’t everyone’s experience. Maybe because I spent so much of my teens and twenties feeling watched, evaluated, noticed, commented on… I find it freeing.

You mean I can walk into a room and not immediately feel some guy’s eyes drift toward my boobs? I can go out without makeup and not care what anyone thinks?

Sign me the fuck up.

And maybe because of that, I’ve become increasingly impatient with how often women’s conversations still circle back to perfecting and shrinking ourselves.

The weight we’re trying to lose.
The things we’re not eating.
The creams.
The serums.
The procedures.
The endless pursuit of younger, tighter, smaller.

I’m so bored by it. And I’m so glad that I am.

So instead, I’m going to eat.
Experience.
Wander.
Rest.
Notice things.
Make memories.

I want time with my daughter during what may very well be the last stretch of years where she actually wants to spend this much time with me voluntarily (because, preteens).

I want to go slow.

I want to see what happens when my days aren’t dictated by productivity, expectations, deadlines, or obligations.

And that’s also the part that scares me most.

Without the “supposed to’s” and the perfectly optimized calendar… will I even know what to do with myself?

Will I finally get the courage to go sit at a restaurant alone without feeling weird about it? (Which is ridiculous because I LOVE being alone. But eating alone in public has always made me uncomfortable.)

Will I figure out my ideal sleep schedule (11pm–8am, as I've always suspected)?

Will I discover something that changes me?

Will I not want to come back?

Will I question everything?

Maybe.

But here’s what I know: Whenever I’ve watched someone take a sabbatical, move abroad, disappear for a while, or radically slow down… my immediate reaction has always been some version of envy. Or jealousy.

I genuinely don’t know which is technically correct, and I refuse to Google it.

But I do know those feelings usually point toward something important.

They reveal desire. Longing. Truth.

And I’ve learned to pay attention to that.

So I’m doing it. Excited and scared.

Which, now that I think about it, is exactly how I’ve done every worthwhile thing in my life.

So… À bientôt. Or hasta luego. Or Vi ses. Or whatever version applies wherever I happen to be.

I’ll meet you back here in the in-betweens.

❤️,

N

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