Back to Work, Back to Us

Returning to work after 13 months off

After 13 months off on sabbatical, there’s a lot to reflect on. I called it a sabbatical rather than retirement because I wasn’t sure which direction I was heading. No set schedule. Two full months in England. Long walks, quiet mornings, and the rare luxury of having time that didn’t need to be managed.

Al joined me for one of those weeks — a stretch that felt both grounding and fleeting. We made the most of it: wandering through old towns, taking long country walks, laughing at how often we got lost, and rediscovering how easy it still is to enjoy each other’s company. Then he flew home, and I stayed on another seven weeks alone. That solitude had its own lessons — quieter, slower, sometimes lonely, but also deeply clarifying.

A long break like that changes you. It slows your rhythm and reveals how many invisible routines have been holding your life together. By the time I came home, I was grateful, rested, and slightly disoriented.

Then October 1st arrived — my first morning back at work. Suddenly alarms returned, a calendar full of appointments landed in front of me, and the easy, open pace of the past year ended in an instant. I felt the shift, and so did Al. It wasn’t just me returning to work — it was us, learning again how to move together through change.

Transitions Are Relationship Stressors

Time away reshapes what feels “normal.” Coming back reshapes it again. Sabbatical life had its own patterns — long walks, lazy mornings, unhurried days. Returning to work reintroduces structure, deadlines, and distraction. Those small ripples in one partner’s schedule can make big waves in the relationship.

I see this all the time in couples I work with. A job change, a move, or even a shift in health doesn’t just affect one person; it changes the whole system. When couples don’t talk about those shifts, quiet resentments start to grow. “You’ll be gone more” becomes “I’ll have to carry more.” Transitions have a way of surfacing what’s unspoken.

Taking 100% Responsibility for Your 50%

One of the essentials in Making Love Last is simple but not easy: take 100% responsibility for your 50% of the problem. Returning to work means my stress, my limited energy, and my distractions will inevitably affect Al. That’s mine to manage. He has his half too, but when each of us takes responsibility for our share, resentment doesn’t have much room to take root.

Even after decades together, that rule still applies. Every life transition resets the balance — and the work begins again.

Planning the Future Together

Chapter 10 of the book is about building and re-building shared vision. Sabbatical life was one vision. Work life is another. Neither is better; both require alignment.

For us, England represented freedom and curiosity — exploring, talking, reconnecting. That week together was a reminder of how natural it feels when time is abundant and the pace is gentle. Coming home, we had to ask: what parts of that do we want to carry forward? What gets left behind?

If you don’t ask those questions, couples drift. But if you plan the next chapter together, it becomes something you both help shape.

Keeping the Emotional Bank Account in the Black

The Gottmans remind us that it takes 20 positive moments to balance one negative one. During transitions, withdrawals happen quickly — stress, fatigue, impatience.

That’s why small, deliberate deposits matter. A text in the middle of the day. A quick shoulder touch while passing in the kitchen. Sharing a laugh before bed. None of them take long, but they keep the emotional account in good standing.

Vulnerability in Change

Here’s the truth: I was nervous about returning. Sabbatical gave me time to question pace, identity, and purpose. Coming back to work meant stepping into roles that didn’t fit quite the same. I could’ve hidden that from Al, but it would have leaked out anyway — through irritability or withdrawal. Saying it aloud kept us connected.

That’s what vulnerability looks like in real life. “I’m not sure how this will feel.” “I miss what we had during the sabbatical.” Those small confessions open the door to empathy and honesty — the kind of connection that lasts longer than any break or vacation.

Closing Thought: Return ≠ Reset

A sabbatical isn’t retirement, and returning isn’t just picking up where you left off. Both are transitions — for each person and for the relationship.

The essentials I write about in Making Love Last — taking responsibility, building a shared vision, keeping your emotional bank account full, and practicing vulnerability — are what carry couples through these shifts. The workbook goes deeper into how to apply those tools day to day, but living them is the real test.

Work might claim more of my hours again, but it doesn’t get to claim the heart of our relationship. That part still belongs to us. Protecting it, as always, is the real work worth doing.

Want to go deeper?Explore these principles and more in my book, Making Love Last: A Workbook for Gay Male Couples to Build Deeper Connection, Communication, and Trust.

By the book Here

Dr Steve May