The Hollow Days of Sick Leave

The first few days of sick leave felt like a victory. No alarms, no meetings, no emails piling up with passive-aggressive follow-ups. It was a retreat, a defiant withdrawal from a world that had failed to meet my expectations. I told myself it was what I needed—space to recover, time to reflect. But as the days stretched into weeks, what had begun as a respite turned into a void.

At first, I tried to fill the hours with distractions. Streaming endless shows, scrolling through social media, aimlessly organizing drawers that didn’t need organizing. But the novelty wore off quickly, leaving me staring at the clock, willing it to move faster. The boredom was suffocating, each empty hour amplifying the silence in my mind.

Without the structure of work, the days blurred together, their edges indistinguishable. I woke up each morning with no sense of urgency, no tasks demanding my attention. The freedom I had craved felt more like a prison, a stark reminder of how much of my identity had been tied to my job, to the recognition and purpose it provided.

But it wasn’t just boredom—it was emptiness. A hollow, aching sense of disconnection from the world, from myself. Without the constant feedback of external validation, I felt untethered, adrift in a sea of self-doubt. My achievements, my ambitions, even my worth—everything seemed to evaporate in the stillness of sick leave.

The emptiness invited thoughts I had been too busy to confront. Who was I, if not the person striving for recognition, for leadership, for success? What did I have to offer, if there was no audience to applaud? These questions lingered like unwelcome guests, their weight growing heavier with each passing day.

I began to resent the very leave I had fought for, the time I thought would bring relief. Instead, it magnified the cracks in my sense of self, forcing me to confront the void I had spent years avoiding. It wasn’t burnout that had left me hollow—it was the absence of purpose, of power, of the validation I relied on to feel alive.

And so, the days dragged on, filled with small, futile attempts to distract myself from the emptiness. But no matter how I tried to escape it, the silence remained, an ever-present reminder of the disconnection between who I was and who I wanted to be.