This year, I will be returning from intermission. There, I said it. Even the word ‘intermission’ elicits a sense of discomfort and confusion. It is a dreaded but mysterious I-word that is avoided and alluded to with mystery.

Before taking the plunge into a year of intermission, I went back and forth countless times, agonising about whether it was the right decision. A cocktail of burnout, depression, and anxiety had been simmering for months — I was terrified of falling behind, of what others might think, and of the unknowns that awaited me.

Indeed, I will be the first to acknowledge this was not particularly how I wanted my year to go. My mind had conjured up images of days spent lounging on Jesus Green, an overpriced iced coffee in hand, perhaps topped off with a vibrant May Ball commemorating another academic year. Instead, I was met with a disorienting sense of disappointment. Disappointment in the idea that I had essentially ‘lost’ a whole year of academic progress, disappointment in being unable to see friends and once again wander through Cambridge’s cobbled streets with them and, finally, a sense of disappointment in myself.

“A cocktail of burnout, depression, and anxiety had been simmering for months — I was terrified of falling behind, of what others might think, and of the unknowns that awaited me”

After the initial few months of watching friends move forward while I felt stuck in place, I found that the first step in acknowledging the value and potential of this newfound freedom was a one-way flight to Iceland, where I was determined to tick off my lifelong dream of seeing the Northern Lights. Watching the Aurora Borealis dance across the northern sky was an apt metaphor for this point in my life, a beacon of opportunity and beauty in uncertainty. Thus begins a year of adventure and growth that I am incredibly grateful to have experienced.

I then decided to go to Canada and work with horses for two months, learning incredible patience as a result. To be completely honest with you, I’m still not sure what possessed me to do this; I can’t stand temperatures under 5 degrees, hats definitely don’t look good on me, and as a city gal, I had never even approached a horse before. And yet, this experience notably included one of our mares, Jocelyn, successfully predicting the outcome of the Super Bowl.

At this point, clearly, I was done putting myself through minus 20 degrees Celsius — despite the value of a psychic horse — and sought heat in the form of a French course in Montpellier, where it conveniently rained the whole month I was there (or should I say il a plu tout le mois). To finish off the year, after a few months of working and saving, I embarked on my final trip of the year by backpacking Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Montenegro, Albania, and Greece, the majority of which was spent seeing old ruined buildings and attempting to resist adopting a cat.

“I am left feeling much like Bilbo Baggins after returning home from his Unexpected Journey”

At last, however, nearly a year to the date, my year of rest and relaxation has come to an end, and I am left feeling much like Bilbo Baggins after returning home from his Unexpected Journey (though notably, the parallels between my intermission journey and the plot of the Hobbit end there). Looking back, I am filled with gratitude for the plethora of unique experiences and people my unexpected journey brought, that would have been non-existent if a mental health crisis hadn’t forced me to take this step.

Often, as Cambridge students, we are individuals consumed by plans, deadlines and ambitions, all of which are the antithesis of the act of intermitting. And yet, being forcibly removed from a controlled structure which I’ve been accustomed to my whole life was the most valuable part of this experience. There’s a lot of pressure to keep moving forward and stick to a linear path of academic success, but the overarching lesson I’ve learnt is that sometimes stepping back is precisely what you need to move forward in a more meaningful way, giving you a chance to realise that falling behind academically does not mean falling behind in life. The freedom to make decisions, dictate your time and explore potential pathways is invaluable, and arguably a necessary part of entering a new stage of adulthood.

Despite my apprehension in finally discussing something that I couldn’t even acknowledge out loud at the beginning of the year, I hope this brief insight into my experience has one crucial takeaway: you are more than a Cambridge student; you are more than a degree, you are a multifaceted human being with joys outside the world of academia. If you are reading this and considering intermission, know it’s not a decision to be made out of shame or fear of failure. Principally, it’s an opportunity, and most importantly, it is an option that allows you to honour yourself and your health, which should always come first. While I earnestly hope you won’t need to consider it, know that if you are in a position where you are struggling in whatever way, intermission is an option.