Taking a month (or more) off from work

Since 2018 I take long holidays in which I recharge my battery for the rest of the year. When I can, I go alone. This is how I do it!

Whenever I tell people that, as a freelancer, I take at least a full month off every year, they’re usually pretty surprised. “But how do you afford that? Where do you stay? How does that work?”

Those weeks off are so very much needed, that I can’t afford not to take time off. I have gotten so sick in the past because I worked too much, that my GP told me I’d not make it to 40 if I didn’t take time off. I need that time each year to properly switch off, get rest and recharge, in order to stay afloat as a freelancer and to stay alive. *insert dramatic tune*

For context: I live in Europe, where I can travel within two hours to another country. I’ve been freelancing for over 25 years, have always put money aside for rainy days and share my bills with my partner (which helps a lot).

When I’m on holiday, I don’t work. Ideally, I even turn off my email for that month. We Europeans are known for our excellent skills at taking proper holidays compared to other parts of the world, but even my fellow Europeans tend to find a whole month away a bit extravagant. In the Netherlands, where I live, it’s completely normal to take two or three weeks off in the summer. But a whole month (or more)? And alone? That still raises a few eyebrows.

Not working to relax the nervous system

Back in 2018, I decided to take myself off to England for a month on my own. No work, no people. Just me. I wrote about my experience for Flow Magazine.
The biggest revelation? Not working does wonders. On a hill in the Peak District, I found myself recharging in a way I hadn't experienced in years. I lived intuitively — sleeping when I was tired, waking naturally, eating when I was hungry, being in nature every day and really tuning into what my body needed.

At home, that’s a lot harder. I work more than 40 hours a week and having a very finely tuned nervous system means I’m easily overstimulated. After a long workday, I usually have zero energy left for anything social. Work drains almost everything out of me. I don’t have brain space to properly figure out when is the best time for me to eat, or what, let alone think about what I actually need. At home, during my workdays, I keep a pretty strict time schedule, so my brain isn’t losing time to figure those things out.

Because I run at such a high gear during my working weeks, it’s incredibly hard for me to slow down. Even at weekends, it’s a struggle. My endless to-do list just keeps whirring away in the background. I see people — my partner included — flopping onto the sofa and relaxing straight away. I can’t. It takes me about five full days before my body and brain finally get the memo: it’s OK to rest now.

Slowing down and gearing up

Before 2018, I realised that two-week holidays were completely useless for me. The first week I’d still be in withdrawal mode — “Should I check my emails? Should I post something on social media? What deadlines are waiting for me when I’m back?” — and just when I’d start to feel a little calmer, it was time to pack up and head home.

That pattern hasn’t really changed.
When I take a month off, the first week is just decompressing. Then I have a solid two weeks of actual rest. And by the final week, I’m mentally preparing for the return.
One thing I’ve started doing: taking a couple of days off before I go, to pack and ease into the holiday, and a few days after I get back, to settle in properly.

At this point, a month off every year is sacred to me.
Those four free weeks give me something to look forward to during the periods where it feels like all I do is sit behind a computer screen.

Going alone

In 2018, I took that first solo month in the Peak District. I loved it so much, I went again the year after.
Then in 2022, after two years of not visiting my beloved England and while navigating a full-blown burnout, my partner and I decided to go to North Yorkshire for three months.
Three months was a totally different ballgame. I actually started feeling like part of the little village we stayed in. We rented a proper house via Airbnb, right in a residential street, and got to know our neighbours.

Because three months was too long for me to not earn anything, I decided to work half-days. Looking back, I wish I hadn’t.
Working even a little bit kept me in that stress cycle and probably made my burnout worse. Here we are in 2025, and honestly, I’m still feeling some of the effects.

In 2023, we went back to the same house, but this time just for a month.
And that’s when I realised I was craving some solo time again.
So in 2024, I stayed in North Yorkshire for six weeks — four of them completely on my own. 2024 became my most free year yet: I took a full three months off work across various trips.

Which brings me to a question an Instagram follower asked me:

“What does taking a month (or longer) off every year do to your income?”

Taking a month off each year doesn’t affect my yearly income at all. I make it work by taking on more work before I leave, and working more hours when I return.

Part of that is thanks to a regular weekly client. I won’t sugar-coat it: the weeks before my holiday are intense. Especially because I’m still not completely out of my burnout, it’s definitely a balancing act. I’m still experimenting with finding a better rhythm — starting to prep earlier, for one.

Because I don't want to lose too much income, I often cram extra work in after my holidays too. Not ideal — something I’m still figuring out.

Last year (2024) was different though: I took three months off across the year, and that did impact my income — I earned about 5% less. But I also had 16% more time off. Absolutely worth it. I covered the income dip with savings.

Speaking of which...

“What’s your savings plan for taking a month off every year?”

I have a clear idea of how much I want to spend on holidays each year, and every month I automatically put a percentage of my income aside into a savings account.

“Do you work while you’re away or is it a complete break?”

I try my absolute best to take four full weeks completely off. If I even glance at my email, my body immediately shifts back into stress mode. I’ve learned the hard way that working while ‘on holiday’ just makes me miserable — a huge waste of the money I spent getting there. If I’m going to work, I might as well stay home!

“How do you manage projects that come in during your time off?”

If a client emails me during my holiday about a project with a deadline before the end of my time off, it’s a no. I’ve had some brilliant offers pop up during time off, but I always regretted it afterwards. So, I politely decline.

“What about ongoing commitments?”

I make comics for a magazine with a weekly deadline, so I work ahead before my break. Full disclosure: I usually underestimate just how much extra work that adds before I leave. Still learning there!

“What do you do if clients contact you while you're away?”

A few weeks before my holiday, I update my email signature with my out-of-office dates. I also remind my regular clients a few times.
During the holiday itself, my out-of-office message says I’ll check email at most once a week and non-urgent things will have to wait until I’m back at my desk.
These days, I have a studio manager keeping an eye on my inbox too, so ideally, I don’t have to check in at all.

Clients rarely call me anyway, but if there ever was a true emergency, I’d be there.
That said, because I give plenty of notice, this pretty much never happens.

“And your partner, who’s employed full-time — how does he manage it?”

Last year, he joined me for just two weeks. Which was perfect — I love solo time.
In 2022, when we stayed for three months, he travelled back to the Netherlands a few times for work, but mostly worked remotely.
Remote working has become so much more normal since 2020, but obviously you do need to make proper arrangements with your employer — and be mindful of visa rules in certain countries.

“Where do you stay during your holidays?”

It varies. I usually look for affordable places with a kitchen — cooking for myself keeps costs down. And because I don’t have a bath at home, I try to look for places with one. I nearly always go to England, because that’s where I feel most at ease.

When it comes to picking a place, I go a lot by gut feeling — checking out the host, their interests, the interior of the house and whether it looks well looked after. (After 16 years on Airbnb, I’m pretty good at spotting the red flags.)

One thing to bear in mind with long trips:
You’re probably paying costs in two places — your home and your holiday accommodation. I still pay my mortgage and insurance at home, while also renting a place abroad. Luckily, our mortgage is reasonable, and I always pick very budget-friendly homes in England.
If you want to cut costs, you could sublet your place (ideally to friends or friends-of-friends you trust), or try house-sitting — looking after someone’s pets and home while they’re away.

Another IG follower asked if I cancel my insurance if I go on holiday: Never cancel your insurances when you go on holiday. If you live in the Netherlands, your insurance needs to keep running even while you’re away — in case something happens either to you or your home.

“I really want to go on a solo holiday but I’m nervous. Where should I start?”

I hear you. If you’ve never travelled alone before, start small.
Take yourself away for a weekend somewhere within your own country — far enough that it feels like a mini adventure. Once you’re comfortable with that, you can start extending the trip or going abroad.

Personally, I prefer travelling to places where I speak the language — it makes everything from casual chats to emergency situations much easier.

In my experience, people who are comfortable in their own company tend to find solo travel easier. It is a skill you can build: first a weekend, then a week, then two. Gradually stretch your comfort zone.

I hope this gives you a little insight into how you can carve out more real rest in your life, even when work feels all-consuming.

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