I went into my sabbatical hoping to detox from workaholism, and in the process, God taught me even more than I expected about what over-working has cost me over the years.

In the past I used work to entertain myself, distract myself, and numb myself.

From what? Fear.

Workaholism enabled me to avoid the painful reality that life in a broken world is scary (and that I have much less control than I'd like). I've been addicted to throwing myself into productivity to avoid uncomfortable truths.

Yet what I didn't fully appreciate until this sabbatical was how much over-working has cost me. It's disconnected me from myself, from the people I hope to love, and from God.

So over my sabbatical I got serious about connecting with my fear, and boy, did it have things to say!

I realized that some part of me is afraid to depend on anything good in my life because that good could get yanked away at any moment.

While I've been blessed in countless ways over the years that haven't been taken away, there have been unpredictably painful losses. And that unpredictability is key. I never know which good thing to hold loosely. So I hold them all loosely.

The result is that some part of me keeps me from trusting or fully enjoying anything in my life. Which feels crazy, but at the same time reasonable.

My sabbatical involved a lot of grieving love I've hesitated to receive or share over the years because of that fear.

Yet the solution isn't to judge my fear or find even more effective ways of ignoring it. Instead, the key to connecting better with myself, God, and my family is to connect (particularly) with my fear.

How? I started practicing some new rhythms and boundaries over the sabbatical that I plan on continuing (and you can hold me accountable to):

1. Take concrete steps to work less by blocking the internet on my computer at 8 pm and inviting my family/coworkers to call me out if I'm working outside of work hours.

2. Prioritize taking a true Sabbath each Sunday by planning ahead on Saturday, including time to be silent with myself and space to share unhurried time with others.

3. Distinguish between things I find refreshing vs. indulgent, and then make an effort to refresh each week (going to the symphony, going on walks, extended silence, etc.).

4. Continue a new sabbatical practice of weeknight no-screen tea times with the NFOB guys after dinner.

5. Create contexts to mourn and grieve moments and seasons I lived less fully in the past because of fear.

6. Take the risk of being more honest with myself and others about my fears, even when that honesty might destabilize endeavors I hold dear.