I decided to go cold turkey. 

I had just experienced one of those beautifully fulfilling Sundays that church leaders crave. So many signs of love and life crammed into one room.

I left the noise and the activity of a Sunday, and I entered the silence and stillness of retreat. The first Monday of sabbatical.

I had started to wonder how serious my addiction really was. It had become intoxicating. 

Position. Platforms. Prominence. 

My drug of choice? Leadership. (Was it my choice? Wasn’t it my calling?)

As the effects of this powerful stimulant wore off, questions swirled around my mind:

Had I mistaken adrenaline for the anointing? 

What would anonymity feel like?

What if no one really noticed that I wasn’t there?

What would it be like to have no to-do list?

Could I survive without my digital distractions?

What if no one heard my prayers, apart from the God I was directing them to?

All drugs medicate the pain. Leadership is no different. It prevents the emptiness catching up with us. It stops us speaking with our souls about its scars. It removes margin. It allows little space to identify our hurts and invite healing.

I decided to go cold turkey.

I chose to be unproductive.

I chose to play.

I chose to sit.

I chose to take long walks without setting a time or a destination.

I chose to nap.

I chose to read slowly.

I chose to pray quietly.

I chose family and friendship.

With intention, I chose to be unintentional.

Slowly leadership left my veins.

My soul softened.

And my heart became whole.