I took a break from work to protect my health. This should be more accepted in academia

From ScienceMag:

I vividly remember the day I realized I couldn’t keep going as I was. I was sitting in my office, the late afternoon sunshine casting long shadows across my desk. My hands were trembling, not from nerves, but from the sheer exhaustion that had been my constant companion for months. I had just finished a long consultation with a patient when a sharp pain shot through my chest—a not-so-subtle reminder from my body that I was pushing it too far.

I had always prided myself on being strong and resilient, someone who could handle anything thrown my way. As a doctor and skin researcher, I was always busy: My days were filled with the demands of the clinic and the lab, my evenings spent poring over the latest studies.

I was also living with a chronic illness. When I first received my diagnosis, I brushed it off. “I can handle this,” I told myself. “I’ve handled worse.” And for several years I did, pushing through the pain and fatigue, convinced that slowing down in my work would mean falling behind.

But the chest pain, it turned out, wasn’t only a symptom of my illness: I was also pregnant. I was overjoyed when I found out—but also terrified. How could I continue to work at this pace while also nurturing a new life? I had to make a choice: Continue to push myself to the brink, or take a step back.

I began to see my time off not as a failure, but as a necessary pause.

• Monisha Madhumita
• Saveetha Medical College

Deciding to take a yearlong break from my work was the hardest decision I’ve ever made. I felt I was letting everyone down—my colleagues, my patients, and worst of all, myself.

The dismissive reactions of some of my colleagues made it worse. In India, where I work, women doctors normally take just 6 weeks of maternity leave, right after delivery. It’s unheard of to take a full year off, or stop working a few months into pregnancy, as I did. One colleague remarked that taking so much leave “isn’t a great look for someone aspiring to leadership.” Another told me, “Women have been working through pregnancies for generations. Why should you be any different?”

Repeatedly justifying my need to take time off to protect my health and my baby’s was exhausting. And with no clear policies to rely on, my institution was uncertain about how to handle the situation, so I had to draft multiple requests, consult experts, and appeal to my employer’s goodwill—not for special treatment, but simply to meet my basic needs.

In the early days of my break, I often lay awake at night, wondering whether my decision would indeed derail my career. I watched my colleagues continue their research and publish papers, while I missed out on an important promotion opportunity and had to give up a large multicenter grant. It was hard to watch others advance while I stood still.

But as time went on, something shifted. I began to see my time off not as a failure, but as a necessary pause. I realized it didn’t mean I was any less capable or ambitious, but that I valued my health and wellbeing enough to prioritize them. And it meant that when I returned to work, I was able to give my best—not just the remnants of someone who had been running on empty.

My experience also made me realize how far academia still has to go to better support women and people with disabilities—both in India and around the world. I was able to make a strong case for myself, but not everyone is in such a position—and the onus shouldn’t be on the individual. Taking time off for health reasons, pregnancy, or mental well-being should be not only accepted, but encouraged. This means both governments and employers need to implement policies that provide real support, such as flexible working arrangements, more generous paid leave, and resources for managing chronic conditions. And we shouldn’t have to apologize or feel ashamed for asking for these changes: They would lead to a more inclusive, productive, and humane workplace for everyone.

I’m grateful to have been able to return to my job, unlike many people who take long absences. Now that I’m back, I approach my goals differently. I no longer feel the need to tackle everything at once; instead, I have learned to focus on what matters most. And I’ve come to understand that stepping back isn’t a setback; it’s a strategy.

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