Six Months of Surrender - Why I Had To Take A Sabbatical | Episode #1

Welcome to Fulfilled with Isimemen — the podcast for high-achieving women of color who want career success and life fulfillment — God’s way.

In this debut episode, I’m taking you behind the scenes of my sabbatical: what broke me, what God rebuilt, and how I began trading pressure for peace, performance for purpose, and hustle for Holy Spirit-led success.

From juggling motherhood, marriage, and entrepreneurship to hitting a wall I could no longer push through, this is a story of surrender, realignment, and rebuilding my life from the inside out.

 🔎 What you’ll hear in this episode:

• The breaking point that forced me to stop striving
• How God used rest to restore my clarity and identity
• The shift from burnout to Spirit-led success

If you’ve ever felt like you were performing success but losing yourself, this one is for you.

🔁 Share this episode with a friend who needs permission to pause.

🔔 Don’t forget to subscribe!

🌐 Visit my website - https://www.isimemen.com/

📬Connect with me on LinkedIn - https://www.linkedin.com/in/isimemenaladejobi/

📢Connect with me on Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/isimemen/

Transcript

Welcome to Episode One of Fulfilled with Isimemen

I am so excited to be here with you. This podcast has been a long time coming. In this episode, I’m breaking down my sabbatical—why I went on it, what led up to it, some of the revelations I had during it. And my hope and prayer is that this episode encourages you, that you see God in it, that you find strategy for yourself in it, and that you start to take it a little easier on yourself.

Let me give you a little bit of background. I am a Nigerian immigrant. I came to this country when I was five months old. Being a Nigerian girl has always been such a big part of my identity. I love it. My church is mostly Nigerian. I eat Nigerian food, wear the clothes, embrace the culture—I understand Yoruba. I just love it.

And part of being an immigrant and coming from an immigrant family is this... I don’t know if “pressure to perform” is the right phrase, but there’s certainly a desire for children to do really well. My parents wanted me to succeed. They wanted me to be a doctor. For many of us, we know the list: doctor, lawyer, engineer. From a young age, that was kind of ingrained in us. Not because our parents were bad people—they just wanted us to have a better life than they did.

My dad actually wanted to be a doctor. But some things happened that cut that dream short. So he looked at me, his firstborn, and said, “Baby, you will be our doctor.” And I said, “Yes sir, I will.”

Funny enough, my dad taught me how to read when I was three years old. I’ve always loved learning. I had a propensity for it. I was drawn to challenging work. I loved the praise, the accolades, doing well—it was fuel for me. And I loved seeing my parents smile when I succeeded.

So I went through school excelling—class president, top grades—and by high school, I was already planning what kind of doctor I would be. I chose anesthesiology because it made the most money. No rhyme or reason. I literally Googled it. That’s just who I was: work hard, achieve, repeat.

I got to college ready to become “Ms. Doctor.” But long story short (and I’ll do another episode on this journey to clarity), I failed Organic Chemistry 2. Shoutout to all my friends who also failed it—you know who you are. That failure, though? It was a God moment. In the moment, I was freaking out, begging God to help me pass. But looking back, He knew best.

That failure made me pause. I realized the dream wasn’t really mine. I wasn’t willing to push through because I wasn’t passionate about it. When you’re not in purpose, you don’t have the fuel to persevere through hard times. Purpose is that fuel. And I didn’t have it.

So I started getting clear on what I actually wanted. I changed my major multiple times. Eventually, I landed in a role and a career I really loved. But even then, I had built my identity on striving and self-sufficiency—on being the best.

My dad raised me with the idea that no one is better than me. “If she can do it, you can do it too.” That belief fueled me. And I’ve accomplished a lot by God’s grace. But there was a dark underbelly to it, and that’s what I came face to face with this year.

Even when I came to know God, I brought that self-sufficiency into my relationship with Him. It was, “I’m strong enough. I’m good enough. I can be a good Christian. Let me go!” But eventually, that too had to be rebuilt.

When I went on maternity leave for the fourth time, the foundation I had built began to crack. For years, I’d been building—business, family, ministry, friendships, self—and suddenly, I felt like I couldn’t do it anymore.

I’ll never forget that night in December. I was supposed to return to work in January—new year, new goals. But I couldn’t find the motivation. I was dreading it. And y’all, I love work. I love what I do. But I was drained.

I remember walking into the office and looking at my husband. “Babe, I can’t do this.” I was in tears. “I’m not ready.” I couldn’t handle the responsibility—team, payroll, expenses. And even though we’d prepared for my maternity leave, I was not emotionally ready to return.

One of the biggest mistakes we make is pushing through when we need to stop. And high-achieving Black women? We are the worst at this. Just push through. Keep going. But I had to pause.

And yes, I know everyone’s life is different. I thank God for my husband—he’s incredibly supportive. But here’s the truth: you can create space to heal. Even if it’s a day. Even if it’s a weekend. Even if it’s a week. And for some, maybe a month.

When I told my husband I needed more time, he looked at me and said, “Do it.” That yes? It was costly. We live in D.C.—everything is expensive. But we took money from savings to extend my sabbatical. And it was an incredible act of love.

But I couldn’t receive it. Not at first. The high performer in me felt irresponsible. I thought, “I’m supposed to be an asset, not a liability.” I told my husband that—and he looked at me like, “Where did you get that from?”

He said, “This is exactly why you need the sabbatical.” He saw it clearly. I didn’t.

I talked to my therapist. My auntie. My best friend. Everyone said the same thing: “Take the time.” So I did.

But when your identity is built on holding everything together, it’s terrifying to let go. My trust had subtly shifted from God to self. I didn’t say it out loud, but my mindset revealed it. I thought I was the one holding everything together—not Him.

So I took three more months off. What was supposed to be January through March stretched into April. I didn’t really get my bearings back until late April or early May.

And you know what’s interesting? I’ve always told my clients this analogy of the slingshot. Sometimes, you need to pull back in order to be launched forward. That was my season. I needed to get quiet. Get healed. Hear God.

Could I have done that while working? Maybe. But I needed to catch my breath. And some of you do too. You need to stop. Stop striving. Stop job searching. Stop chasing—and listen.

Give God space to whisper. To trade your hustle for healing. To exchange your striving for surrender. That’s what I did.

Of course, I still made goals for my sabbatical. I’m still me. Here were my sabbatical goals:

• Get insane clarity
• Get lots of rest
• Get the household running on systems (hello, four kids)
• Have a strong body and start working out
• Finish a specific book of the Bible
• Implement new systems
• Stop work completely
• Seek the Kingdom

Ambitious, right?

But what really happened was me crying out to God for clarity. Because clarity is everything. If you don’t know where you’re going, it doesn’t matter what you do. I needed that direction. And I needed fuel.

I spent time finding my footing as a mom of four, resting, being kind to myself. I had breakthrough after breakthrough with my amazing therapist. I spent time with my children, practicing intentional parenting—humanizing them, honoring their needs, learning and unlearning.

There were moments I wanted to square up with my kids. I’m not gonna lie. But I stayed. I showed up. I reconnected with the beauty and honor of motherhood. And I’ll be sharing more of those breakthroughs in the next episode.

One powerful moment I’ll never forget: I was comparing myself to other women. Amazing women doing amazing things. And I broke down in therapy. I said, “Why am I not running like they are? Why am I falling apart?”

And in that moment, I realized: I am not them. I am Isimemen Aladejobi. God has a specific call and timing for me. And I need to stop measuring my worth against someone else’s pace.

I cried. I admitted I’m not superwoman. I need God to carry me. If He doesn’t, I’m done. And a peace washed over me that I can’t even explain.

That was the beginning of my transformation.

In the next episode, I’ll walk you through the seven revelations I received during my sabbatical. These revelations shifted how I define success, how I walk in my calling, and how I balance being a wife, a mother, a business owner, a ministry leader—and a woman leading thousands of others into purpose.

I can’t wait to share them with you.