It was a Thursday morning, 10 a.m., and the panic attack was starting to creep in, as it often did that week. The familiar tightness in my chest, the racing thoughts, the overwhelming sense of dread. This wasn’t the first time that week—far from it—but it still hit hard. I had learned by now that when this happened, I had to prepare, to somehow collect myself for the day ahead.

While I tried to steady my breathing, I found myself chatting with a friend, discussing the idea of taking the next week off work. The thought of stepping away to unwind and recharge seemed both essential and impossible. Could I really afford it, given the pressure of everything on my plate? My schedule was packed, and the idea of leaving so abruptly gnawed at me. But I also knew something had to give. I couldn’t keep going at this pace.

After talking things over with my wife and my friend, I spent some quiet moments reflecting. The decision to take the week off was not easy, but in that moment, I realized it was necessary. I had 27 meetings scheduled for the week ahead. Could I have just pushed through, kept the momentum going, and told myself it wasn’t so bad? Maybe. But if I didn’t step away, if I didn’t pause now, I feared I’d reach a breaking point I couldn’t come back from.

I needed to protect myself, to acknowledge my limits. So, with a deep breath, I decided to request the time off. There was a small sense of relief in making that choice, though doubt still lingered. Was this the right call? Was I just taking the easy way out?

But I knew it wasn’t about ease. It was about survival. It was about choosing to take care of myself before I got to a place where I couldn’t. And I had support—my boss, my teammates—they all had my back. When I told my boss, he said something that stuck with me: “Our team is firing on all cylinders right now. It’s a good time to take a break while things are running smoothly.” His words, simple as they were, felt like a lifeline.

Still, I wasn’t sure what to expect when I submitted my PTO request—less than 48 hours before the week began. It was unorthodox, but I was met with understanding. I wasn’t sure how it would all play out, but for the first time in a while, I felt like I was making a decision that was for me.

What did I do with a whole week off, with no plans in sight? I took the opportunity to rebuild, to give myself the space I needed to reset. I knew that if I didn’t actively make the most of this time, I might squander it—or worse, let it slip by without gaining anything from it. So, I decided to create a new routine, one that would help me rewire my brain and shift my focus in a few key areas.

I began with the simple decision to wake up at 5 a.m. every morning, giving myself a fresh start before the world began to pull at me. The first hour of my day became a sacred ritual—each part of it intentional, a step toward a better version of myself. I started with 20 minutes of exercise, just enough to get my body moving, to shake off the lingering effects of stress and fatigue. Then came 20 minutes of reflection and meditation, where I allowed myself to breathe, to check in with how I was feeling, and to find a moment of peace before the chaos of the day. Finally, I dedicated another 20 minutes to growth—whether reading a book, taking an online course, or learning something new that expanded my mind.

By the time that first hour was over, I felt ready to tackle anything. The physical movement, the stillness, and the learning created a solid foundation for the day ahead. I found myself starting work earlier, using the quiet of the morning to dive into projects I enjoyed—those I often didn’t have the time or energy for during a typical workweek. These early hours gave me the focus I craved and the space to align myself with the tasks ahead, helping me work with more intention and clarity.

It wasn’t just about productivity, though. It was about reconnecting with myself, creating a rhythm that nurtured my mind, body, and spirit. By the end of the week, I didn’t just have a clearer head—I felt a renewed sense of purpose and balance that had been missing for far too long.

This wasn’t just a break I needed because of burnout—this was something deeper, something different. It was a moment of reflection, a call to reconnect with myself in a way I hadn’t in a long time. If you find yourself struggling, I truly encourage you to take a step back, to carve out some you time, and to thoughtfully consider what you need to start feeling better.

It’s not always easy, and it’s not always obvious, but you have the power to turn things around. If I can do it, if I can take that step toward healing and clarity, then you absolutely can, too. There’s no perfect roadmap, but there’s a path forward—one that starts with making the decision to invest in yourself. Your well-being matters, and even when it feels daunting, taking that first step can be the catalyst for real change. Do it.