Building skills and finding meaning during a sabbatical from optometry

My decision to take a career break was not to escape optometry, but to rediscover why I wanted to study it in the first place, and to work on personal growth.

That year-long break has now extended to a 16-month journey. As I wind down my time away and return to the UK in the coming weeks, I have found an opportunity to reflect on all that I have learned and experienced.

Before I left, I was in a great place, professionally and personally. Seven years into my career, I’d achieved the professional dreams I had in university. I was working in glaucoma and medical retina clinics at Bradford and York hospitals, I was newly qualified as an independent prescriber, and was helping as a clinical supervisor at Bradford University. I was also the Chair of the Leeds branch of Vision Care for Homeless People (VCHP).

Outside of work, I had just bought my first home. I was enjoying rock climbing, learning to swim, being involved in my local church, and living with my older brother — life was great. But beneath the comfort, something deeper was stirring.

The truth is that I'd come close to leaving optometry entirely in the past. Early career roles with intense commercial pressure had left me questioning whether this was the profession for me. Something pulled me back, particularly the clinical opportunities in hospital settings, but the doubt lingered. Was this the right profession for me?

Early career roles with intense commercial pressure had left me questioning whether this was the profession for me

Faith, heritage, and a new decade

As the end of my 20s approached, I found myself reflecting more deeply on my heritage, identity, and purpose. I grew up in Kenya but hadn’t returned in two decades. My father’s side is East African Indian, originally from Tanzania, and I’m of Indian descent — half Punjabi, half Bengali — but had never visited India properly before. Despite carrying this global identity, I’d never truly explored it.

More than that, I sensed a spiritual invitation — something God was quietly pressing on my heart. I was being drawn to personal growth, to reconnect with parts of my story, and to contribute in ways beyond the familiar.

The concept of a sabbatical year, rooted in the Biblical principle of letting land rest every seven years, had been building in my mind for months. 2024 marked seven years since I'd started practising optometry, and with my 30th birthday approaching, the symbolism felt significant. It was time for my own professional reset. I also wanted to explore what optometry looked like in different countries, and how I could play my part in our profession.

I also wanted to explore what optometry looked like in different countries, and how I could play my part in our profession

A leap of faith

My employers couldn’t offer an official career break, so quitting was the only option. I wrestled with the idea for weeks, but deep down, I knew I had to be brave and go for it.

Looking back at my diary entries from that time, the uncertainty was palpable. In July 2023, I wrote: “Currently it is all up in the air, and I feel daunted by the decision... Do I really want to be gone for months? What will I do? How will I afford it?” But colleagues encouraged me that my future self wouldn’t regret taking time away and travelling while I am still young.

Having saved diligently, I chose regions where the pound stretched further — Central America, East Africa, and India — and committed to travelling and backpacking on a tight budget.

Encouraged by friends and guided by prayer, I sensed this was the right time. So, I booked my tickets, packed lightly, and set off on a journey through Central America, East Africa, India and South Africa. To pace myself, approximately every four months, I returned to the UK for a few weeks before the next region.

A year of learning across continents

My first destination was Belize, where I volunteered with the Belize Council for the Visually Impaired (BCVI) — the country’s only public eye care provider. I helped manage secondary care patients and taught their optometrists, contributing to both service delivery and clinical teaching. After a month here, I backpacked through Central America down to Costa Rica.

Benji Chandra

In East Africa, I connected to my heritage in Kenya and Tanzania and explored those countries. Then, in Uganda, I was invited by Lions Club Uganda to teach eye care professionals across the West Nile region. Despite limited resources, I saw how community dedication still delivered essential care.

In India, I travelled across 10 states to connect with my heritage and understand the country. While in Hyderabad, I visited LV Prasad Eye Institute to learn about their pioneering pyramid model of care. Then, at Akhand Jyoti Eye Hospital in Bihar, I helped teach students and worked on curriculum development. Their Football to Eyeball initiative — training rural girls with football and then as optometrists — is a powerful blend of gender equity and sight restoration.

Despite feeling imposter syndrome (I still do when teaching), I realised how much UK optometric education has equipped us to offer support globally. In my time in Bihar, I taught 300 students across multiple campuses, from first-year undergraduates to pre-registration optometrists. Before this, I had never led a lecture before. This experience stretched me to grow in many ways.

It also revealed something crucial: teaching isn’t just about sharing knowledge — it’s about creating sustainable change. Those optometrists I helped teach will examine thousands of patients over their careers. The ripple effect of education far exceeds what any foreign individual clinician can achieve alone, especially during short-term visits.

Volunteering across three continents revealed the vast spectrum of optometric practice worldwide. These experiences didn't just broaden my worldview; they transformed how I see optometry's potential. In a profession where I'd sometimes felt constrained by commercial pressures or routine procedures, I rediscovered optometry as a force for genuine social change. Every technique I'd learned, every piece of equipment I'd mastered, every clinical decision I’d practised — all of it had value beyond the confines of UK practice. Suddenly, those years of experience in the UK felt like preparation for something bigger.

The ripple effect of education far exceeds what any foreign individual clinician can achieve alone, especially during short-term visits

More than just clinical skills

Looking back, I gained far more than just travel memories. I became fully conversational in Spanish and picked up chess while in India — something that sharpened my strategic thinking. I grew significantly in teaching, often with large and diverse groups, which was a major confidence boost.

I also developed a podcast and newsletter to reflect on my journey, and for the first time, learned how to use Instagram to share meaningful stories. Along the way, I learned how to use AI tools for travel planning and general productivity. The entire experience also demanded strong planning and administrative skills.

Beyond these hard skills, I developed deeper resilience through navigating constant change and adapting to new environments. I learned how to build trust quickly and communicate across cultures. And I gained a quiet confidence in leadership and collaboration, especially in unfamiliar and challenging spaces.

A particularly sobering moment came during my sabbatical when I learned that Steve Clark — a treasured colleague, mentor, and friend — had passed away quite suddenly. Steve believed in me before I believed in myself. He helped me get my first role post-qualification, supported me when I took on the Chair role with Leeds VCHP, and helped with funding for my extra qualifications. When I had doubts, he offered wise, encouraging advice as I prepared to travel.

His passing reminded me how fragile and brief life can be. We shouldn’t wait too long to do the things we feel called to do. Because the truth is that tomorrow isn’t promised. And sometimes, courage means taking the opportunity that is available in front of you now.

To fellow optometrists

If you’re reading this and feeling stuck, unsure, or simply ready for something different, know that there are paths forward. Optometry is wider than we’re often told. You just need to find your lane. Sometimes you may need to temporarily step away from your profession — if only to remember why you chose it in the first place.

I haven’t yet found a job to return to in the UK, but I’m not worried. In optometry, diverse experience sets you apart rather than holding you back. The skills I’ve developed, such as clinical adaptability, teaching confidence, and cross-cultural communication, are exactly what our globalising profession needs.

I must acknowledge that the financial sacrifice was real, and I have lived on savings accumulated through years of careful budgeting. But the non-financial benefits have been immeasurable. This break reminded me that there’s more to life than climbing the conventional career ladder and, paradoxically, stepping off that ladder has given me clearer direction than I’ve ever had. I also realised how fortunate we are to live and work in the UK and have access to decent-paying jobs.

For optometrists considering their sabbatical, the practicalities do matter. I completed all my continuing professional development requirements in the cycle before leaving, and maintained skills through regular volunteering and occasional locum shifts during UK visits. The key is keeping your hand in while permitting yourself to explore.

Start financial planning early, too. Even small amounts saved consistently can fund significant adventures when spent wisely in the right locations. And remember, taking a career break at any stage of your career can work. While it felt scarier doing it seven years into practice rather than straight after university, having established skills has made returning to work feel less daunting. It also gave me strong skills to offer when volunteering.

I fully realise how unfeasible and irresponsible it would be for many to take a break as long as I did. However, even an intentional break of a few weeks could make a difference.

The sacred pause

Career breaks aren’t gaps or steps backward; they’re realignments. Sometimes we need to step away from the familiar to rediscover what drew us to optometry in the first place. For me, that meant seeing optometry not as a job constrained by commercial pressures, but as a passport to make meaningful change in the world.

I’m now excited to return to UK clinical practice with fresh eyes. Every patient I see, skill I learn, and technique I master will be enriched by the perspective gained during this sacred pause. And who knows? The skills I develop next might find their way again to another remote clinic, another classroom of eager students, or another place where optometry can change lives.

As a global citizen, I hope I can continue to play my part – and maybe you can too.

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