Sick Leave

I really miss Barcelona’s sunshine. Please allow me to put it as the photo of this post.

Today, I took a sick leave—the first time I’ve ever taken a day off without checking my business emails or replying to clients.

In the afternoon, I had a guest over. She’s a junior of mine, one year younger, who recently graduated. She had just finished an interview before coming to my place, it was likely first time she got the last round interview after applying to over 700 jobs. A woman in her 30s with years of industry experience, yet still struggling to find a job in the UK. This feels like the harsh reality here—a country many immigrants come to, seeking better opportunities and a better life, even while tolerating the miserable weather.

Later in the evening, a friend who recently moved to the US called me, venting about her new job and her marriage. It seems like dissatisfaction is a common theme for so many of us lately.

I didn’t have much energy to offer advice or solutions today. I just listened to their stories, still recovering from the terrifying experience of Saturday when I almost thought I’d die on a flight. Ryanair attempted to land in London Stansted during a storm but aborted the landing at the last moment. The plane was so close to the ground—just meters away—when the pilot decided to pull up and reroute to Manchester. The wind was so strong it felt like it could tear the plane apart. It tossed us up and down relentlessly. My boyfriend, who had been laughing at my screams moments earlier, suddenly went silent. He closed his eyes and started deep breathing. For a moment, both of us truly believed it might be the last day of our lives.

If you ask me if anything has changed since then, I would say yes. I want to enjoy every moment of my life. That’s why I took this sick leave today and refused to do any work.