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This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Maria Laposata, 32, the founder of travel consultancy Travelries. Her words have been edited for length and clarity.

Life made me realize I needed a break.

My husband and I had moved in together just before the pandemic, and our one-bedroom apartment in Los Angeles had become both our offices. We were making it work, but I could feel the walls closing in.

We both love to travel, so in an effort to dream a little, I said, “Let’s make a list of all the places we want to go.” I’m a bit of a spreadsheet nerd, so I took his list and mine, ranked them, and combined them into one massive spreadsheet. It was my little form of stress relief.

At the time, I was working on the operations team at a startup in LA, and my schedule had become a lot more intense. I opened my laptop at 7 a.m. and closed it at midnight. I loved my job, but I was feeling burned out. On the rough days, I’d look at that list and dream about African safaris or going to Antarctica.

One morning, while my husband was making me a cappuccino, I decided to pitch the idea to him: “Hey babe, what if we quit our jobs and traveled around the world for three months?” And he said, “OK, sounds good.” That’s very him: calm, chill, no big reaction.

Planning for the trip

If we were going to take the risk of leaving our jobs, we wanted it to feel worth it. We decided the trip should last for a year, and it took us time to save and work through the logistics. Two years later, we both handed in our resignations.

We set a $75,000 budget for the trip, which included everything from our Netflix subscription to the storage unit we rented. My manager was excited for me, but our families had a lot of questions: How would they contact us? Was it safe? What about diseases?

Before the trip, I was worried about snakes in Africa and tsunamis in Southeast Asia — which is funny, because I live in Los Angeles on the Ring of Fire.

My biggest concern was that a career gap would look like a black mark on my résumé. That ended up being completely false.

After we finished our lease in LA — and convinced my mother-in-law to watch our cats — we were off.

Around the world in 365 days

We started our trip in Rome, where we’d enrolled in Italian school for two months. Walking through our neighborhood that first night — Aperol spritzes on tables, music in the air, a cat watching us from a balcony — it felt like Rome was saying, “You made the right call.”

The next morning, we walked to class past the Colosseum and Pantheon before the tourists were out.

One of the moments that really changed me happened halfway through the trip, when I turned 30. We were in Gili Air, a tiny island near Bali, on my birthday.

Even in paradise, I found myself questioning whether I mattered at all — away from the birthday emails and office cakes that usually mark the day back home. I told my husband, “I’ve realized I don’t matter,” and he stopped and said, “But you mean everything to me.”

I’d always said he was my top priority, but in reality, work had always come first. In that moment, I realized how wrong I’d been — and how much I needed to start actually living my life by what mattered most.

Returning to LA

We decided to spend the last six months of the trip focusing on our job search and building skills. My husband built an app while we traveled, and I reconnected with former colleagues so it wouldn’t feel out of the blue when I reached out later.

When the plane landed and the pilot said, “Welcome home to Los Angeles,” it hit me that I had never pictured that moment. I’d imagined so many scenes from our trip, but never the return.

My husband and I both received job offers on our last day abroad, and I returned to work quickly. I was terrified I’d slip back into old habits — the workaholic version of myself who didn’t know how to be any other way. But this time, I really wanted to change.

I wanted my husband to be at the top of my priorities list — because he’s the reason I matter. When I think back on those moments, I’m grateful that we took that trip. I’m a profoundly different person because of it.

What came next

When I was laid off last August, I didn’t rush to apply for new jobs. Instead, I returned to an idea I’d had during our trip — how little support there is for people who want to travel long-term. That’s when I started Travelries, a company that helps adults plan gap years and travel sabbaticals.

In the end, the career gap on my résumé ended up being one of the best decisions I ever made — and a guaranteed conversation starter in every job interview.

Do you have a story about taking a gap year that you want to share? Get in touch with the editor: [email protected].