Every Christmas season, without fail, I submit a request for one simple thing: a week off to go home and spend time with my family. And every year, without exception, my boss finds a reason to say no. It had become an almost predictable ritual—one where hope was quietly replaced by disappointment. This year, determined to do everything “right,” I submitted my request all the way back in June, giving more than enough notice for planning and coverage. I believed that early preparation would finally make a difference. It didn’t.
Last week, the holiday schedule was released. Four of my coworkers had their Christmas leave approved with no issue. My name, once again, was missing. When I approached my boss for an explanation, he sighed and told me I needed to be a “team player.” He followed that up with the comment that stung the most: since I don’t have kids, my time off wasn’t as important. I didn’t argue. I didn’t raise my voice. I simply smiled, thanked him, and walked away—because by then, my decision had already been made.
What he didn’t know was that I had quietly been interviewing elsewhere. So when the announcement appeared on the company’s internal board the very next day, his reaction said everything. It was a simple post, welcoming me to my new role at another firm and expressing excitement for my January start date. Nothing dramatic. Nothing confrontational. But the message behind it was loud and clear: I had chosen a workplace that respected balance, fairness, and planning.
The timing caught him completely off guard. He had assumed I would always stay, always adjust my life around the company’s needs, always accept being the last consideration on the list. It never crossed his mind that I might leave for something better—something that allowed me the basic dignity of spending holidays with my family.
When he called me into his office later that day, confusion and disbelief were written all over his face. He asked why I would make such a “sudden” decision. I calmly reminded him that my vacation request had been sitting in his inbox for six months. I explained that approving time off for others while denying mine—solely because I didn’t have children—wasn’t fairness, and it wasn’t something I was willing to tolerate anymore.
In truth, this decision wasn’t just about Christmas. The holiday issue was simply the final reminder of a pattern I had ignored for too long. I had watched coworkers take breaks, celebrate life milestones, and recharge, while I consistently filled the gaps and carried the extra weight. I had proven my loyalty again and again, yet it was never returned with respect for my personal life.
The new position offered something I had been missing for years: a culture that valued planning, acknowledged boundaries, and understood that everyone deserves time to rest—regardless of their family status. That was something I desperately needed, even if I hadn’t fully admitted it to myself before.
As I walked out of the office after giving my notice, a deep sense of calm washed over me. There was no regret—only relief. This Christmas, for the first time in years, I will be home without guilt, without stress, and without unanswered requests hanging over my head. And more than anything, I’m grateful for the lesson this experience reinforced: valuing yourself is not selfish. It’s necessary.