A Year of Hitting Pause and Reset
Why I am taking a sabbatical from work
I want 2025 to be a year where I start sharing more openly about my life as an artist. It will also be a way for me to keep track of my journey and growth as I enter a new season of my life—a season of hitting pause and resetting my relationship with my art and mental health.
I shared briefly on my IG stories last year that I was going to take a break from work. So, this is where I am now—on a year-long sabbatical journey to rediscover who I am as an artist and as a person.
What led to this sabbatical?
At the start of 2024, I told myself this would be the year I took a step back. I hesitated to call it a sabbatical because, deep down, I was terrified to stop working. I imagined it as a year where I could find the perfect balance between juggling my passion projects and commercial work. I wanted and needed change desperately. But as the year went on, I got cold feet about cutting off work and lost sight of that promise to myself.
This was a huge mistake. I knew I was already drained and disengaged from my art, yet I still tried my hardest to make it work. I thought things would fall into place, and I would eventually overcome my mental struggles.
As I dragged my feet through the year, I became painfully aware that I was no longer excited or curious about my art. The increasing distance between me and my craft got harder to ignore. I wasn’t feeling challenged or engaged in my work. I hated it all. I had been stagnant for a while, and I had definitely hit a creative plateau. Instead of truly checking in on myself, I chose to constantly power through it.
This led to moments when I found myself crying randomly in the shower or at my desk. What was I working so hard for? Who does my work belong to? Where is my artistic voice in all of this?
Being afraid
One of the reasons I hesitated so much about taking this long break was fear. There were so many irrational thoughts that kept me from saying "yes" to time off. I was afraid of losing my income, potential opportunities, and all the progress I had made so far. But I realised I had more to lose if I continued being stuck in this perpetual cycle of misalignment and distraction from what truly mattered to me.
Maybe, in order to grow, I need to step back and create space for work that can truly move me forward.
Initial struggles going into this long break
Towards the end of 2024, I knew I had to hit the brakes. So, in October, I stopped accepting new jobs—or almost. It was an uphill battle learning to push away potential projects and say no.
I guess it would’ve been easier if I had hopped on a flight and left the country. But no, I was still in Singapore, still entertaining calls about the possibility of new projects. Each time, I felt a huge sense of regret for betraying my own boundaries. It’s wild how we sometimes ignore our mind and body’s cries for help.
Working had become so automatic for me that rewiring my brain to accept a new path took time. The good news is that I’m now better at saying no than I was three months ago.
Figuring out my "whys"
Throughout the years, I’ve just gone with the flow. I took on whatever projects came my way, even if I wasn’t skilled at them (yet). I was experimenting with my career while trying to grow it. And that’s perfectly fine because, sometimes, there’s no actual roadmap to building an artistic career.
The problem was, I never created a strong framework to support my values or keep me aligned with my most authentic self.
The road as an artist, especially in Singapore, isn’t a conventional path. Growing up, I heard the same "struggling artist" tropes (from strangers, friends and family):
“You can never make a living as an artist.”
“There’s no future for an artist.”
“All artists are poor.”
Somehow, in a strange and serendipitous way, doors opened for me. When I first took on jobs as a paper artist, it felt surreal. Pure excitement drove me to drink up any opportunity that came my way. I only had one thing in mind: to prove I could make a living as an artist.
But that’s not a sustainable source of fulfilment.
One of my goals during this break is to figure out my "whys":
Why is my work important to me as a person and as an artist?
Why do I get up every day to work on my craft?
Why does it matter?
I might not find all my answers in a year. But through deeper reflection, I hope to emerge leading a more intentional and authentic artistic life.
Guiding questions
After speaking with friends and creative acquaintances (thank you for your generosity!), I’ve turned some of my thoughts into guiding questions to help me gain clarity in the coming months. I’ll likely do another post answering these questions at the end of my sabbatical:
What fulfils me in my art and personal life?
What does “success” mean to me?
What makes me feel excited or curious when I have the freedom to create?
How can I express my authentic voice in my art without overthinking?
What themes or concepts do I want to explore but haven’t yet?
What aspects of commercial work drain me, and how can I tackle this in the future?
How can I set healthy boundaries between passion projects and work?
Who is my ideal audience or market for the art I enjoy making?
How can I make time for the things I love, outside of art and work?
What would my ideal work-art-life balance look like?
Are there ways to restructure my art practice to focus on what matters to me?
What framework can I build to align my art practice with my values?
What do I want to take away from this sabbatical?
There may be more questions, and these might evolve as the months go by. I’m going to embrace the process and not pressure myself to answer them all at once.
Here’s to a year of inner growth, that’s not measured by external achievements or societal expectations, but by the quiet progress within.
Thank you for sharing this 😊 wishing you a year of inner peace. Substack is a lovely place, much less noisy than social media.