Fully Disconnected: Great Advice for Someone Else (and why Intentional Presence works for me)

I want to set a scene from my weekend.

Ocean-view hotel room. A delicious homemade cocktail with the perfect amount of lime. A romantic tapas meal settling happily in my stomach. My husband warming up his hands for a foot rub he promised me. The sound of the ocean waves crashing outside. Deep, contented breaths.

A stunning aerial shot of Lincoln City, Oregon's coastline sunset. Photo by Eric Sanman.

And then my phone chimed.

I knew it was work before I even looked (I have different notification sounds for personal and work email), (which is either very organized or a sign that I need help... depending on who you ask).

It was 5:30 pm. I was on a birthday trip. And my hand was already moving toward my phone before I'd made a conscious decision to reach for it.

Some of it was simple reflex. A good portion, curiosity.

Most of it was someone who genuinely wants to be helpful and is still new enough in a role that she wants to make sure nothing is falling apart.

It wasn't urgent. It was a staff member getting to a non-pressing question after a busy day, adulting like a pro. I did a 30-second triage of my inbox, confirmed that nothing was on fire, and then I threw the phone into my purse.

James (my spouse) didn't say anything. He just waited, because he knows me. And let's be honest, he is the most patient and respectful person I could have barnacled myself to.

Later, we were talking about what I wanted to blog about this week, because usually I write about what is on my mind or what is happening. I mentioned maybe the idea that leaders need to take breaks to care for themselves, since I was. Then I said maybe not, since that is a well-trodden topic and I am such a bad example, having checked my phone a few times during our weekend away.

Then he shared that it didn't bother him at all, because it's part of who I am. He observed that my work is deeply tied to my identity. This became especially clear late last year when I was laid off and completely lost my footing. I didn't just lose my job; I'd lost my identity. And I've become much more grounded and confident since starting a new job in April of this year.

He wasn't wrong. And I was a little gob-smacked.

The Advice You've Heard a Thousand Times

Every leadership blog, every wellness podcast, every out-of-office best practice guide says the same thing: disconnect fully. Set boundaries. Be present. The emails will be there when you get back.

And we all know that is probably good advice. But they're also writing for someone who has a team. A backup. A bench of people who can field what comes in while they're gone.

I am a department of one. No one does exactly what I do. There are kind, capable colleagues who could look something up or answer a general question. But the work that is mine is genuinely and practically mine. "Fully disconnecting" is sometimes a recipe for coming back to a mess that I have to work twice as hard to clean up.

And even if there was someone else who could completely fill my shoes, I'm not sure the phone would stop feeling like a pull. The problem isn't really logistics; the place can get along without me for a few days with no issues. It's not really the 300 e-mails I am going to come back to, I can handle that. It's not even expectations or boundaries; my leadership fully expected me to completely disconnect for the 3 days away. For me it's a problem of identity.

Work Has Been Part of Who I Am Since I Was Fifteen

I have been working since I was 15 years old. With one brief pause after college (which was not by choice but due to the 2009 economy), I have always had a job. Work has never just been a thing I do. It has been the theme of my teenage and adult life, a source of purpose, a place where I get to be good at something and have it matter. More than that, all but one of my jobs has been working for government, university, or a non-profit organization, so the work I've done has served myself, my family, and my community. It has become an important dimension of who I am.

When I was laid off last year and trying to build SparkGrowth from the ground up, I didn't just lose income. I lost the clearest answer to "who are you?" that I'd ever had. I felt untethered in a way I hadn't expected and couldn't fully name until James casually dropped it into my lap, over a burrata salad, on my birthday vacation.

I was lost because I didn't have this.

I'm not lost now. And instead of thinking about reaching for my phone at 5:30 pm as a symptom of dysfunction, I've decided to consider it evidence that I found my way back to something that matters to me. I'm new in a role I care about, with people I want to show up for, working for a cause that makes my community better. Of course I'm curious when my phone chimes. Of course my hand moves before my brain catches up.

It's not a personal flaw for me to want to stay connected, at least a little.

The 30-Second Triage a.k.a Intentional Presence

Here's what I actually did.

I picked up the phone. I read the email. I scanned my inbox for anything that looked urgent. Nothing did. I put the phone down and returned my full attention to my husband, my cocktail, and the Pacific Ocean doing its thing outside the window.

Thirty seconds. Maybe less.

Some might call this failure to disconnect. I'm calling it intentional presence, which looks different from total disconnection. I'd even argue that it's a more honest and sustainable practice for people like me.

For me, intentional presence means I know what deserves 30 seconds of my birthday weekend and what doesn't. It means I've thought about my values and my responsibilities and made a conscious choice about how to honor both. It means I check in because I care, not because I have to. And it means that when I know everything is good, I can put it down and get back to my foot rub.

It's not the Instagram version of work-life balance. But it's real, and it's working for me.

A Note to the Fully-Unpluggers

If you can genuinely close the laptop, silence the phone, and spend a week at the coast without a single work thought — seriously, I admire you. Some people are wired that way, and some roles allow it. So if that's you, keep doing it and love it.

But if you're the person who heard their work notification sound and felt a reflexive pull, and then felt guilty about feeling the pull... samesies, my friend.

We are not bad at resting. We are not failing at self-care. We might be someone for whom work is not separate from self. And that is a different problem with a different solution than "just put the phone down."

Know yourself. Triage with intention. Come back to the foot rub.

The emails will still be there. So will the ocean.

A Note to Those Who Want to Fully Unplug But Can't

Everything I've said above assumes that the pull toward work comes from a genuine place of caring. But I want to pause for the people who are reading this and thinking, "I don't want to be checking. I want to stop. I just can't."

That's a different situation entirely, and it deserves a different conversation.

If you can't unplug because your workplace culture won't allow it:

If there's an unspoken (or heck maybe spoken) expectation that you're always available, that response time is being clocked even during off time, or that clear boundaries are penalized-- that's not a you problem.

This is a culture problem that is worth saying clearly:

A workplace that cannot function without your constant availability is not a sustainable workplace.

Read that again if you need to.

There is a tough conversation that you might need to have with your manager, your HR department, or your own conscience about whether this is an environment worth staying in.

If you can't unplug because you're not sure your team can handle things without you:

First, that might be worth examining honestly. Is that really true? Or is it a story you're telling yourself that feels like conscientiousness but might actually be control? Trusting your team enough to let them make decisions, and occasionally mistakes, without you is a leadership skill. So is developing your team so that coverage gaps don't depend entirely on your availability. Those are learnable skills, and worth the work.

If you can't unplug and you're not entirely sure why:

If the compulsion feels bigger than work culture or coverage gaps or if rest genuinely feels impossible or anxiety-producing, it might be worth talking to someone. A therapist, a coach, a trusted mentor. Not because something is wrong with you, but because you deserve to truly rest. And sometimes we need help learning how.

The goal here isn't to perform disconnection on a beach somewhere (although I cannot recommend the Oregon Coast enough). The goal is to actually be okay. Whatever that looks like for you is valid and worth pursuing.

Okay, so…

The next time you hear that you need to fully disconnect on vacation, I want you to ask yourself one question: disconnect from what, exactly?

If the answer is "a job I tolerate" — yes, absolutely, please, put the phone in a drawer and enjoy your life.

If the answer is "work that is part of who I am, in a role I chose, with people I genuinely care about showing up for" — maybe the goal isn't disconnection. Maybe it's intentional presence. Like a 30-second-email-triage-and-back-to-the-foot-rub kind of presence.

You're allowed to be the person you actually are.

You do you, boo. And rest accordingly.

Research (click to expand)

Knez, I. (2016). Toward a model of work-related self: A narrative review. Frontiers in Psychology, 7, Article 331. https://doi.org/10.3389/fpsyg.2016.00331

Renk, S., & Sutter, C. (2026). Always available? A systematic review on extended work-related availability, health outcomes and work-family conflict. Frontiers in Psychology, 16, Article 1726421. https://doi.org/10.3389/fpsyg.2025.1726421

Sonnentag, S., & Fritz, C. (2015). Recovery from job stress: The stressor-detachment model as an integrative framework. Journal of Organizational Behavior, 36(S1), S72–S103. https://doi.org/10.1002/job.1924