This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Cassi Zheng, 31, the founder of Aurawell, an aromatherapy brand. Her words have been edited for length and clarity.
As a brand director at a sports-drink startup in Shanghai, I spoke to more than 30 people a day — from members of the sports community to suppliers and colleagues seeking sign-offs.
I was drained. I felt chronic pain, constant fatigue, and even had panic attacks.
In February 2023, at 29, I quit. I wanted to head into my 30s with a clearer sense of purpose. I didn’t tell my parents, but my friends and colleagues were supportive.
Suddenly, I had nothing to do, and that early idleness felt panic-inducing. I was so used to running around, talking to people, and being needed. I felt completely lost for a few days.
Then I started trying different things. I biked across the city from one end to the other, covering more than 10 kilometers. Another time, I biked 30 kilometers just to go kayaking.
I felt exhausted, but also energized.
Embracing friendships
I spent the first year traveling across Asia. Because I’d been practicing Reiki, Japan felt like a natural first stop.
On a trip to Tokyo and Kyoto with friends, temples and traditional inns sparked something within me. I knew I wanted to go back again on my own.
I kept moving. Bangkok’s flea markets and Chinatown reminded me of Guangzhou, where I grew up, in the ’90s.
In South Korea, I rang in the new year on Jeju Island with old friends, racing to find a taxi minutes before midnight.
Time to fly solo
On New Year’s Day, I flew to Kyoto for my first true solo trip. I’d lived on my own before — college and grad school in the US, travel through Mexico, Kenya, Nepal — but Japan felt different. It was the perfect place to be an introvert.
I spent my birthday alone in Tokyo, sick with the flu, wandering the Nezu Museum’s gardens. The quiet design reminded me to notice what’s present, instead of what’s missing.
I returned to Japan twice more that year, spending days meditating alone in the mountains.
A year and a half after quitting, I spent three weeks in Europe. On a hike in Sicily, I met a man climbing beside me. He spoke Italian, I spoke English, but we managed. He told me his father had paved the mountain road. Afterward, I visited his café.
Sicily felt open and passionate — a contrast to Shanghai’s intensity.
Finding emotional freedom
By late last year, I’d already started work on a new project. Still, a friend convinced me to join a five-day water-immersion course in Bali. It was brief but intense — somatic dance in the ocean, learning to let the body speak.
I began crying without knowing why and felt ashamed. I tried to step away, but the teacher told me I didn’t need to hide. With an East Asian upbringing, that was incredibly freeing. I cried for two days, overwhelmed by release.
I’d long relied on external validation from bosses, parents, and goal-driven metrics. My gap year loosened that grip. I could count the trips or the solo days, but none of that defines me.
Back to work
On my 30th birthday, I finally told my parents about my gap year and the aromatherapy brand I was starting with a friend. They were shocked — it was far outside their comfort zone — but showing them my business plan and prototypes helped. Even now, when I visit them a few hours outside Shanghai, they enjoy talking about metrics and the future of my company.
My friend and I launched Aurawell in May 2024, just over a year after I left my job. I first got the word out by leading a public meditation in an underground performance space.
Taking a gap year was one of the wisest decisions I’ve made. It gave me time to slow down, reflect on my choices, and discover what I actually enjoy, without pressure from the outside world.
Do you have a story about taking a gap year that you want to share? Get in touch with the editor: akarplus@businessinsider.com.
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