Last updated: April 2, 2026
I got the call on a Thursday.
I won’t pretend it didn’t sting. It did. The first 48 hours were rough in that specific, ego-bruising way that a layoff hits. Not just “I lost my job” but “I was removed.” The company decided the math worked better without me in it. That lands differently than walking away on your own terms.
I’ve been in IT for over two decades. PMP, CSM, ITIL. Senior management. None of that made me immune, and it wouldn’t have mattered if it did.
For two days, I sat with that. Let it be what it was.
Then something shifted.
When a Layoff Beats You to the Resignation Letter
Here’s the thing I haven’t said out loud yet: I was going to resign in June anyway.
I had a date circled. August 3, 2026. That’s when my 13-month sabbatical begins. 21 countries, a 40-liter backpack, and a spreadsheet I’ve been refining for the better part of two years. The plan was always to give notice in the spring and walk out the door on my own terms.
The layoff just moved the timeline up a little. And took the resignation letter out of my hands.
So yeah, it stings. But I’m choosing to call it a blessing. Not in the toxic-positivity, “everything happens for a reason” way. More in the “okay, the universe just pulled off the bandage for me” way. The runway is still there. The savings are intact. The plan hasn’t changed. What changed is that I now have a few extra months to do something I kept putting off: slow down.
What Gets Packed, What Gets Stored, What Gets Let Go
There’s a version of the next few months that would have looked like this: coast through spring, wrap up work projects, say careful goodbyes, and try to squeeze in some departure prep between meetings. The organized handoff. The clean exit.
Instead, I have time.
Time to actually go through the apartment. To hold each thing I own and decide: does this go to storage? Does this go to someone who needs it? Does this go in the bag? I’ve been putting that off the way you put off anything that asks you to make real decisions about what matters.
Some of it is easy. The work clothes, the extra kitchen gear, the things that accumulated because life accumulated. Most of that gets sold or donated. I’m not sentimental about a KitchenAid attachment I used twice.
Some of it gets stored. The essentials: a bed, a couch, a table. The things you need when you come back. Family photos. The stuff that holds memory in a way that can’t be replaced.
And then there’s a different category entirely. I have Ren memorabilia that I’ve been collecting for a few years now. The figurines he releases to support his music, the signed albums, the things you pick up at shows when you realize this artist is doing something that actually matters to you. That’s all going into storage, protected, waiting for me. Although I’ve been thinking that one of the figurines might make the trip. I haven’t decided which character yet. It just feels right to bring a small piece of that world with me.
The layoff gave me the space to actually make those choices instead of throwing everything in boxes at 11pm the night before I leave.
The Financial Reality of a Sabbatical After a Layoff
This is the part people ask about most, so I’ll be honest about it.
I’ve been planning this for two years. That wasn’t an accident — it was deliberate runway-building. I kept my expenses low, maxed out my retirement contributions, and set aside a dedicated sabbatical fund separate from my emergency savings. By the time the layoff happened, the financial foundation was already in place. The job wasn’t load-bearing anymore.
That’s the key thing I’d tell anyone in a similar situation: if a career break is something you’re seriously considering, start treating your finances like it’s already happening. Not in a panic, but with intention. Every month of runway you build is a month of freedom you’ve already earned.
If you got laid off and you don’t have that runway yet — that’s okay. It just means the sabbatical has a different shape. Maybe it’s three months instead of thirteen. Maybe it starts with freelance work and transitions into slow travel. The layoff doesn’t have to be the whole story. It just has to be the first line.
I’ve Been Thinking a Lot About What It Means to Pare Down
Not in a minimalist manifesto kind of way. More in a practical, what-actually-matters kind of way. When you’re about to spend 13 months living out of one bag, moving through 21 countries, you stop being abstract about it. You start picking things up and asking: do I need this? Does this represent something I want to carry forward?
Some things have obvious answers. The Ren stuff has an obvious answer: yes, that comes with me in some form, and the rest gets stored with care. Those aren’t possessions, they’re touchstones.
Other things are trickier. The version of myself that owned all this stuff, the corporate calendar, the work certifications on the wall, the certain kind of life, that version is already on the way out. The layoff didn’t cause that. It just made it official a little earlier.
I think that’s what the next few months are for. Not just packing. Deciding.
The Honest Version of How I Feel Right Now
Relieved. A little embarrassed that I’m relieved. Grateful for the runway. Nervous about what comes next. Quietly proud that the plan I spent two years building doesn’t depend on any particular employer deciding to keep me around.
That last part matters more than I expected it to.
I built this sabbatical on my own. My savings, my spreadsheet, my timeline. No severance package required to make it work. No company blessing. I was going to do this with or without a graceful exit. Turns out the exit was just a little less graceful than planned, and the trip is happening exactly the same way.
There’s something clarifying about that.
What the Next Few Months Look Like
If you’ve ever been laid off, you know the particular flavor of that first week. The silence where the calendar used to be. The weird freedom of a Thursday afternoon with nowhere to be. The internal debate between “I should be job searching” and “wait, do I actually want another job right now?”
For me, that debate lasted about three days.
The answer was already in the spreadsheet.
I’m going to spend these months getting healthier, moving more, taking better care of myself. I’m going to clear out the apartment and make intentional decisions about what I own. I’m going to keep building the skills I’ve been teaching myself: video, photography, writing. And I’m going to leave on August 3rd, exactly as planned, feeling more ready than I would have if I’d worked straight through until June.
If you’re reading this because you just got laid off and you’ve been sitting on a plan of your own — whether that’s a three-month sabbatical or a year abroad or just a month off to breathe — maybe this is your bandage moment too. The plan doesn’t have to be as big as mine. It just has to be yours.
The layoff stung. It was a hit to the ego. It was two bad days.
Then it became the push I didn’t know I needed.
This is The Sabbatical Files — a blog about one man’s 13-month, 21-country career break. From the planning to the packing to the messy, honest reality of it all. If you’re thinking about something like this yourself, start with the Sabbatical Personality Quiz — it takes about two minutes and might tell you something useful.
Frequently Asked Questions
Is it too late to take a career break at 40 or 50?
No. People over 40 are often better positioned for a career break than younger travelers because they have more savings, more professional credibility, and a clearer sense of what they actually want. The idea that extended travel or sabbaticals are only for people in their twenties is a myth that is slowly breaking down as more mid-career professionals choose to take adult gap years.
How does a career break affect your career long-term?
The impact depends on how you frame it and what you do during the break. Professionals who return with new skills, a clearer direction, or relevant experiences often find the break strengthens their career narrative rather than hurting it. The harder challenge is re-entering a job market that may have shifted while you were away, which is why building skills or projects during the break matters.
What do you do about health insurance during a career break?
Most employer health insurance ends when you leave your job. Options include COBRA (continues your existing coverage for up to 18 months but can be expensive), the ACA marketplace, or a long-term travel insurance policy for the time you are abroad. If you are traveling internationally, a policy from providers like IMG, SafetyWing, or World Nomads is typically more practical than domestic coverage.
How do you handle the identity loss that comes with leaving a long career?
It is one of the least-discussed parts of a sabbatical and one of the most real. When your job title has been your identity for two decades, stepping away feels like freefall. The adjustment takes time. Many people find that having a clear purpose for the break helps: learning something new, building something, or simply giving yourself permission to figure out who you are outside of your professional role.
What is a micro-retirement and how is it different from a sabbatical?
A micro-retirement is an extended break taken intentionally before traditional retirement age, usually ranging from a few months to a couple of years. A sabbatical is similar but often implies an intention to return to the same field or employer. The distinction matters less than the planning behind it: both require financial runway, a clear purpose, and a plan for re-entry.
Frequently Asked Questions
How did you afford a 13-month trip after being laid off?
A combination of severance pay, savings built up over years of intentional budgeting, and a clear cost-per-day framework. Traveling through Southeast Asia and South America for large portions of the trip also dramatically lowers the daily cost compared to Western Europe.
How long did it take to plan a 13-month trip?
The itinerary took shape over about four months. Some legs — like the first few accommodations — were booked months in advance. Others are intentionally left open for flexibility.
What advice would you give someone considering a similar leap?
Start with the money question honestly. Figure out your actual cost-per-day target for each region and see how long your savings can realistically cover it. Most people overestimate what long-term travel costs in affordable regions.
Were you scared to take such a long trip alone?
Yes — and I still am, a little. But fear of a decision and a reason not to make it are different things. The fear of regret turned out to be stronger than the fear of going.