6 Reasons a Summer Sabbatical Is Necessary

Here's something you don't see very often in the mental health world: someone actually practicing what they preach about boundaries and rest.

Starting July 4th and running through Labor Day (September 1st), I'm taking a sabbatical from blog writing. Not because I've run out of things to say—trust me, there's always more to unpack about anxiety, trauma, and the general chaos of being human.

But because summer has taught me something important about the rhythm of life, and it's time I honored that rhythm instead of fighting it.

Before I explain why I'm stepping away, let me tell you what this blog actually represents. This isn't just content for content's sake.

Each post is carefully curated to support your mental wellness journey. When I write about anxiety, it's because I see the patterns that keep people stuck.

When I break down trauma responses, it's because understanding your nervous system is the first step toward healing it.

This blog is a resource—not just information, but practical, no-BS tools for people who are done with surface-level solutions.

Every article is written with the intention of helping you understand yourself better, interrupt patterns that aren't serving you, and find approaches that actually work.

But here's the thing about resources: they're most useful when you have the capacity to absorb them. And summer? Summer is when a lot of us naturally shift into a different mode of being.

The Truth About Summer Energy

Here's what I've learned after years of working in mental health: summer operates on a different frequency. The rigid schedules of the school year give way to something more fluid, more spontaneous.

Families naturally shift into a mode that prioritizes connection over productivity, experiences over achievements.

And yet, here I've been, grinding away at content creation like it's still March and everyone's desperately googling "how to manage anxiety" at 2 AM. Don't get me wrong—people still need mental health resources in the summer.

But they also need permission to step back, to breathe, to let their nervous systems settle into the slower pace that summer naturally invites.

So I'm modeling what I ask my clients to do: listen to what you actually need instead of what you think you should be doing.

The Summer Shift I Keep Witnessing

In my practice, I see this shift happen every year around Memorial Day. Families start talking differently. Parents mention spontaneous ice cream runs, kids staying up later, weekend trips that weren't planned three months in advance.

There's a collective exhale that happens when the school year officially ends.

My clients start asking different questions, too. Instead of "How do I manage my anxiety about my kid's grades?" it becomes "How do I stay present during our family vacation?" Instead of "How do I get through another overwhelming week?" it's "How do I protect this feeling of connection we have going right now?"

The energy changes. People are still dealing with anxiety, still processing trauma, still navigating the complexities of being human.

But there's something about summer that creates natural space for healing. Maybe it's the longer days, maybe it's the cultural permission to slow down, or maybe it's just that vitamin D is doing its job. Whatever it is, I'm learning to work with it instead of against it.

My Summer Reality Check

Let me paint you a picture of what my summer actually looks like, because I think it's important to be real about why this sabbatical isn't just nice—it's necessary.

I've got college tours lined up with my 16-year-old daughter, which means long flights, hotel rooms, and having deep conversations about the future while sitting in campus coffee shops.

There's hiking, biking, and the beach on the agenda because nothing clears your head like a good trail, salty water, and following the road wherever it leads. I need to practice what I preach about moving your body to move stuck energy.

Then there's the reality of managing the schedules of four busy kids.

Summer camps, swim, playdates, and the constant chorus of "I'm bored" that somehow happens even when there are seventeen activities planned for the week.

It's beautiful chaos, and it requires a different kind of presence than I give to my work.

Here's what I want to be clear about: I'm still seeing clients. The therapy practice doesn't stop just because it's summer.

People still need support, still have breakthroughs, still do the deep work of healing. But what I've realized is that trying to maintain the same content creation schedule while fully showing up for both my clients and my family was leaving me, well…exhausted.

Something had to give.

The Permission You Didn't Know You Needed

This sabbatical is as much for you as it is for me. Because if there's one thing I've learned about anxiety and overwhelm, it's that we're all terrible at giving ourselves permission to rest until someone else models it first.

So here's me, modeling it. Here's me saying that it's okay to step back from the constant input, the endless scroll of mental health content, the pressure to always be optimizing and improving and working on yourself.

Summer is naturally restorative if we let it be. But we're so conditioned to fill every moment with productivity that we miss the healing that happens in the spaces between.

Your nervous system needs those spaces. Your creativity needs them. Your relationships need them. And honestly, your anxiety probably needs a break from being analyzed and strategized and managed quite so intensively.

What This Means for the Blog

The existing content isn't going anywhere. Every article I've written is still there, still relevant, still designed to help you understand your mental health better. If you need resources, they're waiting for you.

If you want to revisit something, it's all here and accessible.

But there won't be new content for a while. No weekly anxiety tips, no deep dives into trauma responses, no carefully crafted posts about ADHD management. Just space. Just breath.

Just the natural rhythm of summer doing what it does best—creating room for things to settle.

The Bigger Picture

Here's what I really want you to take from this: mental wellness isn't just about having the right coping strategies or understanding your triggers (though those things matter).

It's also about living in alignment with natural rhythms, honoring your actual needs instead of your perceived obligations, and trusting that sometimes the most therapeutic thing you can do is absolutely nothing productive at all.

This sabbatical is my way of saying that rest isn't lazy, boundaries aren't selfish, and sometimes the most radical thing you can do in a culture that demands constant output is to simply stop.

I'll be back after Labor Day with more content, more resources, more tools for navigating the beautiful mess of being human.

But for now, I'm going to practice what I preach about presence, about boundaries, and about trusting that everything doesn't have to happen right now.

Summer is short. Childhood is shorter. The work will be here when I get back, but these moments—these college tours and hiking trails and chaotic family dinners—they won't.

So I'm choosing them. And I hope you'll choose whatever version of rest and connection calls to you this summer too.

The blog will still be here when you need it. But maybe, just maybe, you'll discover that what you actually need is already right in front of you.