A Grown up's Gap Year The Life-Changing Joy of Running Away(For a Bit)
- Aug 8, 2025
- 3 min read
By Monique van Tulder
“The straw that broke the camel’s back? A hot coffee. After years of lukewarm everything – I finally sat still long enough to feel something shift.”
This is the story of the moment I realised I was done. Not burn-it-all-down done – just… done being the glue for everyone else while quietly falling apart myself.
Someone may have told me (though I certainly didn’t listen) that mid-life might come with a side of quiet rebellion. That one day, you could wake up with a suitcase packed and the dog wondering if they’re coming too.
For me, the shift was gradual. I was 54. My young adult sons were thriving. My husband? Deep in a euphoric career renaissance. And me? I was running on fumes – mentally juggling everyone’s needs, holding the whole house up with my bare hands. Resilience, always my safety net, well she was nowhere to be found.
Still, I figured a brisk walk and a green smoothie would snap me out of it.
Spoiler: it didn’t.
I realised I was completely untethered. My sister, always the sage, had actually said it out loud the night before: “Untethered you is a dangerous state.” She was right.
I needed to sleep on it – and in the morning, I knew. So I ran away. Okay, technically I left to change lightbulbs in our house in another state.
But then I stayed.
I’m often asked what the catalyst was. And it was probably this: the first hot coffee I’d had in years. Not lukewarm. Not rushed. Not forgotten on the kitchen bench. Just… hot. I sat, watched the sunrise, and something in me finally stilled. After decades of giving and doing and being “fine,” I felt the pull to reclaim myself. I sent my husband an email and said, “This is where I can be found for a while.”
That was the beginning of A Grown Up’s Gap Year.
At the time, I didn’t even know what I was looking for. I just knew I had to leave to breathe. Not forever – just long enough to hear myself think. To remember who I was beneath the roles I’d played for decades.
So, what does being “unstoppable” mean to me now?
I used to think it meant resilience. Holding it all together. Showing up. Smiling through the mental load. Now? It means the opposite. Being unstoppable means knowing when to stop.
It means listening when your body whispers, “I can’t do this anymore.”
It means tuning in. Saying yes when an exciting opportunity comes knocking – and no (without guilt) when it doesn’t light me up.
I now understand no is a complete sentence.
It’s claiming space without apology. It’s understanding that rest is not radical.
And that joy?
Not optional.
What would I tell the version of me who almost gave up?
I’d say this: You’re not selfish for wanting more. You’re smart.
It’s not about finding a better life. It’s about rediscovering you. You can return restored.
You can carry joy as your wingwoman and boundaries as your guardian angel. You’re allowed to rewrite the rules – and you don’t need a committee to approve.
You don’t have to burn down your life. But you may have to step out of it for a while. Out of your own way too. To walk along the beach, to drive without purpose, to sit with a cup of coffee and not move for an hour. You’re allowed to take your time. To come back to yourself.
And you’re allowed to write about it.
Because you are not the only one.
Monique van Tulder is the author of A Grown Up’s Gap Year. A wellness coach, nutritionist, lifestyle & travel writer, wife, and mother of two sons. Living between Sydney and the Whitsunday Islands, Australia. She writes and speaks about mid-life reinvigoration, long-term relationships, and reclaiming space without burning down your life.
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All images - Sally Flegg Photography
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