You need a break. It’s essential to step away sometimes—from your partner, your work, your kids, your workouts, screens, alcohol, drugs, therapy, podcasts, even snacks. Rest is vital for a better life. That much is clear.
But breaks serve deeper purposes too.
Anyone in psychodynamic therapy knows how therapists harp on about their August break. Share a dream about losing your child in a store? They’ll say it reflects your fear of abandonment during the break. Mention anger at a flaky friend? They’ll link it to resentment over their absence. It sounds absurd—but in my experience, it’s often true.
I’ve resisted these interpretations as a patient, and I still do sometimes. As a therapist, I also recognize how deeply my breaks affect my patients. Feeling left out, unwanted, or disappointed is painful—but necessary. If you avoid these emotions, they fester, leaving that wounded part of you doubly abandoned. Therapy without breaks robs patients of the chance to grow through these feelings.
The break is the treatment. Real change happens when the therapist is gone, and the patient survives it. It hurts—but at least that part’s free.
This applies to all relationships: separation fuels growth. I felt this when I first left my daughter at nursery. The anxiety was nearly unbearable—but nearly is key. After an adjustment period, she learned to feel safe there without me. Thanks to her caregiver’s patience and kindness, it was hard but not traumatic. Over time, she thrived in her independence, learning and growing without me.
For both our sakes, I had to let her go. Not just to rest, but to face an uncomfortable truth: we’re not indispensable. Our loved ones can manage without us. The belief that we must always be available is powerful—it feels like the world stops when we’re not there. And that’s true at first. As psychoanalyst Donald Winnicott said, “There is no such thing as a baby”—meaning infants depend entirely on care (usually from mothers).
But children must learn to exist apart from their parents. The same goes for friendships and romantic relationships. Nothing kills connection faster than relentless, unbroken dependence.
Some can’t take breaks—like parents of children with disabilities who lack support. But even small pauses matter. Separation isn’t abandonment; it’s how we grow.The law recognizes how essential these breaks are (through the Children Act 1989 and the Breaks for Carers of Disabled Children Regulations 2011). While I understand that external factors might sometimes make taking a break difficult, this can actually make it even more crucial to find a way to step back.
But external reasons aren’t the only thing holding us back. The belief that we must always be present shields us—without us realizing it—from facing our own limits, vulnerabilities, and needs. It protects us from moments like the one I recently had, when I put my daughter to bed early and found myself wondering, “What do I do with myself now?”—only to realize I didn’t have an answer. It spares us from that hollow feeling of not knowing who we are outside our responsibilities, a void we’ve been unconsciously filling with endless tasks that pull us further from what we truly need.
Sometimes, the most important work you can do—for yourself and those you care for—is to take a break.
That’s my take, and I stand by it. See you in September!
Moya Sarner is an NHS psychotherapist and the author of When I Grow Up: Conversations With Adults in Search of Adulthood.
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