全塾留年生扶翼会
Summary: "Leave of Absence – The Descent"
He was a “capable man.” Or at least, he acted like one.
At work, he was the rising star. To his boss, the golden boy. To himself, the future executive.
In his vocabulary, there was no “limit”—only “challenge” and “promotion.”
Then came spring, with its gentle breeze and one unexpected phone call.
“Yes, this is ○○ Clinic. You’ve reached the psychiatry and psychosomatic department—just confirming.”
The voice was kind. Too kind, perhaps, for a man who had built his career on toughness.
His story begins on a battlefield disguised as an office.
Three projects, one unfamiliar system, and a sales team that communicated in riddles.
He fought valiantly, juggling tasks like a wartime general, convinced that “if not me, then who?”
But when the walls were kicked, the PC shattered, and tears flowed to the rhythm of his favorite song—
the answer was clear: it was him.
His leave of absence wasn’t surrender. It was a “strategic retreat.”
“I’ve still got it,” he thought. No—he knew.
But the reader knows better.
And this one? It’s no exception.
Leave of Absence Journal
– The Crash Chapter –
Introduction:
"Anything that can go wrong will go wrong — and at the worst possible time."
(Edward Aloysius Murphy Jr.)
"Yes, this is ○○ Clinic. This is the psychiatry and psychosomatic medicine department—are you sure you’ve reached the right place?"
The woman at the reception asked in a businesslike yet gentle tone over the phone.
I had reached my limit. My mind was exhausted. I would impulsively throw or kick things, and then suddenly burst into tears.
This abnormal mental state continued for three months.
Before I knew it, I was calling the nearest psychiatric clinic.
It was April, when the spring breeze had just begun to blow.
This is a record of my leave of absence.
Of course, I never imagined that I would end up breaking down mentally and taking time off from work.
Some friends have asked me to share what happened back then,
and for my own reflection as well, I’ve decided to leave a record here—without revealing any identifying details.
Background:
The reason for my leave of absence is simple: I burned out.
After graduating university a year later than planned, I somehow managed to land a position at a major IT company (for what it’s worth, the salary was quite good).
I was entering my sixth spring as a working adult.
When I first joined the company, everyone congratulated me. I was proud to be working at such a place,
and I was motivated to climb the corporate ladder, tackling my daily tasks with ambition.
My manager recognized my enthusiasm and assigned me challenging work for someone at my level.
I pushed myself to meet those expectations, even when it meant overextending.
In hindsight, that was a mistake.
There’s a saying: “The reward for good work is more work.”
Even after overcoming one major challenge, there was no rest—only a bigger mountain waiting ahead.
Not long ago, I had completed a major project (my first time serving as a manager!), and I was already feeling drained.
But before I could even wrap things up properly, I was assigned to the next project—and that’s where things started to go wrong.
There were several factors that made it difficult:
-
I was assigned as project manager for a system I had never worked with before.
Simply put, I had no familiarity with the terrain.
It felt like Germany’s Eastern Front in WWII.
If it had been a system I’d worked with before, I would’ve understood its specifications and quirks, making project management easier.
But with a new system, I lacked that intuition. -
I was assigned to manage two (technically three) projects simultaneously.
This was extremely tough—like Germany being forced to fight on multiple fronts during WWII.
Managing multiple projects comes with overhead costs, which reduce productivity and lead to chronic long hours.
Personally, I’m not good at multitasking.
Switching my brain from one project to another while still thinking about the first drained my energy and placed a heavy mental burden on me.Sadly, Japan is currently facing a nationwide labor shortage.
And having successfully completed a major project despite my relatively junior status, I was seen as capable (or so I’d like to believe),
and ended up being assigned to multiple projects.
At this point, my workload was already nearing its critical limit.
But I endured it somehow—driven by stubborn pride and the ambition to rise through the ranks.
Then, two events occurred that broke me mentally.
1. The project itself was fundamentally flawed.
To put it simply, what our sales team had communicated and what the client expected were completely different (a common issue, unfortunately).
I had built the project management plan based on the requirements passed down from sales,
but I was forced to make major revisions to the plan.
To make matters worse, I couldn’t get in touch with the sales team—
they wouldn’t respond to chats or answer calls.
Meanwhile, the competing vendor wasn’t performing well either.
Naturally, the project began to fall behind schedule from the very start.
While I acknowledge my own lack of experience,
I found myself caught between the client, my manager, and the development company.
I quickly became exhausted.
I asked my manager for help, but no fundamental support was provided, which only deepened my fatigue.
2. Seniority-based performance evaluations
Let me start by saying—I don’t dislike seniority-based systems.
Exceptions aside, people who’ve worked longer tend to be more skilled,
and I never considered myself talented enough to thrive outside of that system.
Although my company claimed to be moving toward a merit-based approach,
in reality, it still operated on seniority.
Unless something extraordinary happened, promotions were slow and incremental.
But in April, during a one-on-one with my department head,
I was given a generic evaluation.
Already mentally worn down, that moment broke me.
I couldn’t understand why I was suffering so much.
Everything started to feel meaningless.
As described above, I had reached my mental limit.
I began acting impulsively—kicking walls at the office, destroying my PC,
and bursting into tears when listening to songs I liked.
Eventually, I was diagnosed with adjustment disorder and officially took a leave of absence.
Leave of Absence: Recovery Phase
The process of taking a leave of absence was surprisingly simple.
After making an appointment and visiting the hospital, I was issued a medical certificate on the same day.
When I informed my manager that I had been diagnosed with adjustment disorder, my work was handed over the very next day,
and I was officially placed on leave until I recovered.
Right after starting my leave, I slept constantly.
For the first three days, I had a fever close to 40°C and was completely out of commission.
For the first month, my days consisted of sleeping, waking up, and occasionally taking the train to see the ocean.
I had a backlog of unused paid leave, so I continued receiving my salary for a while after going on leave.
Adjustment disorder is said to improve when you’re removed from the source of stress—and that was exactly the case.
By the second month of leave, I had recovered significantly.
After recovering, I found myself with too much free time.
This might sound controversial, but even though I had recovered,
I couldn’t bring myself to return to work right away.
The company also didn’t expect me to return immediately;
they wanted me to complete a rehabilitation program called “rework” before coming back.
So I wasn’t placed back into the workplace right away.
To make good use of my free time, I tried various new things, which I’ll record here.
Job Hunting During Leave
During my leave of absence, I had nearly lost all affection for my current company (and I figured my promotion would be delayed because of the leave anyway).
So I decided to job hunt while keeping my leave status a secret.
I’ll skip the details of the job search, but in the end, I successfully received an offer of 11 million yen.
※For reference, the average annual income for someone in their late 20s in Japan is around 4.5 million yen.
It’s often said that graduating from Keio University can help you land a job at a well-paying company,
but even if you join a major manufacturer, the typical salary is around 6 million yen at best.
That’s why his 11 million yen offer is considered exceptionally high.
I seriously considered quitting my current job.
However, weighing the risks—such as the possibility of the new employer discovering I was on leave—I ultimately decided to stay.
Still, I gained a lot from the experience.
I learned how the job-hunting process works and how to prepare for it.
Most importantly, I got to see my market value firsthand.
Knowing that I don’t have to cling to my current company was a major breakthrough.
I expect I’ll continue job hunting even after returning to work.
Aside from job hunting, I also joined a fan meetup for a YouTuber I often watched.
(Funnily enough, the job hunt was sparked by a superchat I sent to that YouTuber—life is full of surprises.)
At the meetup, someone recommended the book Rich Dad Poor Dad to me.
I had many new experiences during this time.
Note:
Rich Dad Poor Dad is a self-help book written by Robert Kiyosaki, a figure often likened to a market speculator.
It’s frequently cited as a favorite by people involved in multi-level marketing/albanian-style marketing or selling info products(in shorten wards,scammer) —so you can probably guess what kind of book it is.
If you see this book on someone’s shelf, feel free to mock them.
Looking Back: Was Taking Leave the Right Choice?
Now that I reflect on it, I believe taking a leave of absence was ultimately the right decision.
It gave me a chance to pause and reconsider my career.
Had I continued working like a horse, I probably wouldn’t have taken the time to seriously think about my future.
If I hadn’t taken leave, I likely would have ended up with a more severe condition—possibly clinical depression.
Regrets About Taking Leave
One regret is that taking leave may have damaged my career.
I won’t know how it will actually affect me until the time comes,
but I’m fairly certain I’ve lost the chance to be promoted at the fastest pace.
To be honest, I haven’t fully come to terms with this part.
I had always wanted to rise through the ranks, and that ambition was a major source of motivation.
Now that I’ve lost that motivation, I’m still struggling to figure out what I’m working for going forward.
Another, smaller regret is missing out on a business trip to foreign country.
Due to the height of the COVID era, I’ve never had the chance to travel for work—neither overseas nor domestically.
Just as a oversea buisiness trip was approaching, I went on leave, and I genuinely regret missing that opportunity.
I can’t help but resent the manager who assigned me so carelessly in the first place.
What I Gained from Taking Leave
One major gain was going through the job-hunting process.
By preparing, interviewing, and receiving an actual offer, I gained confidence in my market value.
I have conffident that, in the worst-case scenario, I don’t need to cling to my current company to survive.
(Footnote: conffident“自身” was a typo for “自信.” Even someone like him can receive a 10 million yen offer. To all students who’ve repeated a year—have confidence!
Perhaps Japanese companies are simply too strict about small mistakes.For example, in Japan, there are many people with the surname Saito,but the kanji can vary—like 斉藤, 斎藤, 齊藤, or even 濟藤—making it easy to mix them up.
However, if you happen to get someone’s name wrong in an email,
you can expect a long lecture to follow!)
I now feel that if I ever become dissatisfied with delayed promotions due to my leave,
leaving the company wouldn’t be such a bad option.
Another thing I’m grateful for, in hindsight, is having a friend I could talk to about taking leave.
I didn’t tell my parents about it—
I only confided in one friend.
I think it was partly because I didn’t want to cause unnecessary worry,
and partly because my pride wouldn’t allow it.
But even just chatting about trivial things helped me mentally more than I expected.
To anyone considering taking leave:
don’t let pride get in the way—talk to someone around you.
In summary, while it may sound like hindsight bias,
taking leave not only saved me from a crisis/struggle,
but also helped me broaden my perspective.
Final Thoughts
If any readers are feeling mentally cornered by work,
I want to say this: taking a leave of absence is a valid option.
We often lose sight of this, but work should never take priority over your life or health.
Being healthy must come before being productive.
If you’re running at full speed and feel like you’re overdoing it,
please consider stopping before you break down.
By pausing, you might notice how beautiful the scenery around you is,
or you might even feel inspired to change your path altogether.