Before I Step Away: Lessons Learned Before My Sabbatical

This week is my last week before my first-ever sabbatical. And can I be honest? I'm still figuring out what that even means. I know what it means on paper. I'll step away from my day-to-day responsibilities as CEO. My team will lead. My inbox will keep moving without me. My calendar won't be packed every hour of every day. But I can't remember the last time that was my reality.

I've taken vacations, but I still checked my email incessantly. I'd answer texts. I'd refresh Google Chat. I'd wake up and open my inbox before I even got out of bed. I never really stopped working. I just worked from somewhere else.

As I've been preparing to step away, I've found myself thinking less about the logistics of a sabbatical and more about the habits I've picked up over the last six years. Some of them have served me well. Others, not so much. I don't know everything that this this sabbatical will teach me—and that feels like part of the point.

What I do know is that preparing for it has already taught me a few things. So before I sign off for a while, I wanted to share a few of them:

1. I am more than Toward Pride.

As a founder, I've often measured my commitment by how much of myself I was willing to give to Toward Pride. In the early years, that felt necessary. There were grants to write, partnerships to build, payroll to make, and more than a few moments when the future of the organization felt uncertain. Giving everything I had didn't feel extraordinary. It felt like what the moment required.

Over time, though, giving everything became the expectation. Not from my board. Not from my staff. From me. At some point, I can’t pinpoint when exactly, I started to believe that if I wasn't giving Toward Pride all of me, I wasn't giving it enough.

Preparing for this sabbatical has made me question that. I love Toward Pride. I'm incredibly proud of what we've built together. But I was a whole person before I founded this organization, and I want to be a whole person long after my time leading it comes to an end.

That means making room for parts of myself that have been waiting patiently for my attention. Friendships that deserved more of me. Interests I never made time to explore. Moments of quiet that didn't have to become brainstorming sessions. Time that wasn't immediately turned into another meeting, another proposal, or another idea.

I don't see this sabbatical as walking away from Toward Pride. I see it as returning to parts of myself that have been there all along. I am more than Toward Pride. I'm finally giving myself the chance to live like I believe that.

2. Toward Pride is more than me.

I've always wanted to build an organization that outlasts me. From the very beginning, the goal was never to create something that depended on one person. It was to build an institution that could continue serving Black LGBTQ+ communities long after I'm no longer its CEO.

That's easy to say. Living like I believe it has been much harder. For the past six years, Toward Pride has been woven into almost every part of my life. So much of my energy, attention, and identity has been tied to this organization that stepping away feels unfamiliar. Not because I don't trust my team. I do.

I trust our staff. I trust our board. I trust the leaders, partners, and community members who have poured themselves into this work. They've earned that trust many times over. So I've been asking myself why stepping away still feels so unfamiliar.

I think part of the answer is that I've spent six years giving so much of myself to Toward Pride that I've started to confuse being its founder with being responsible for everything. I founded Toward Pride, but I don't own it. Not in the ways that matter most.

Toward Pride has been shaped by every person who has chosen to believe in this work. Our staff has shaped it. Our board has shaped it. Our fellows, our partners, our donors, and the Black LGBTQ+ people who have trusted us with their stories have all left their mark on this organization. Stepping away is giving me the chance to see that more clearly.

3. Rest is not a luxury.

For most of my adult life, rest has felt like something I had to earn. I'd tell myself I'd slow down after the next grant was submitted. After the conference. After the board meeting. After one more deadline.The problem is, there was always another "after."

The work of Toward Pride isn't finished. I hope it never is. There will always be another institution to partner with, another leader to equip, another Black LGBTQ+ person looking for a place to belong. If I wait until the work is done before I allow myself to rest, I'll be waiting for the rest of my life.

I'm beginning to see that rest isn't a reward for finishing the work. It's part of making sure I can keep doing it. That's probably the biggest shift for me. While the mission deserves my whole heart, it doesn't require my whole life.

I am hoping that my time away reminds me of that simpel yet profound truth.