This essay is said to be based on a conversation with 37-year-old Sharonda Scott, a stuntwoman from Los Angeles. It has been edited for length and clarity.
Two years ago, at 35, I decided to take what I now call a “radical sabbatical.”
My life in Los Angeles became a whirlwind of auditions, stunts and constant training. I had worked in the entertainment industry as a stuntwoman and actress since I was 30, but by early 2024, following the writers' and actors' strikes, I had hit a wall.
The industry had slowed to a crawl, my savings were limited, and I realized that my lifestyle—chasing for gigs, enjoying luxury, but also being stressed all the time—was simply no longer sustainable.
I've always liked to travel
I grew up in Detroit as the youngest of five children and was raised by a single mother. College led me to the University of Miami, where I switched from medical education to international studies and spent time in Brazil studying Spanish and Portuguese.
After graduation, I pursued prostate cancer research, but knew it wasn't the path for me. I bounced between singing, fashion design, and volunteer work in Rio before moving to Los Angeles, where background acting work unexpectedly led me to stunt work.
My first big break came when I was hired as Miranda Bailey's stunt double on Grey's Anatomy.
But by January 2024, there was a lull in the industry, and I began to worry about bills, despite saving carefully.
I felt trapped. A conversation with a close friend changed everything: “What do you really want?”
I admitted that I want to leave
I wanted to travel and experience the world outside of Los Angeles. So I started imagining a sabbatical—not for a few weeks, but for a whole year or more.
I didn't have a detailed plan. I wrote down 12 countries I hoped to visit, sold everything I had in my apartment in Los Angelesbroke my lease and found someone to lease my car to cover the payments.
My friends and family supported me; they helped me pack my things and even bought some of my things to pay for the trip. My rule was to spend no more than $500 on a plane ticket, which wasn't that hard since most were one way.
The trip began in Goa, India, where Scott made close friends. Contributed by Sharonda Scott
First stop, India.
People warned me about traveling alone as a woman in India, but from the moment I arrived I felt welcome.
What I thought would be a short stay turned out to be transformative. That same week, two young women who had experienced trauma arrived and we quickly became inseparable.
From there, the journey unfolded organically. My sister joined us whenever she had free time – she ended up traveling with me to 13 countries. Along the way, even my mother, who had been afraid of flying for decades, caught up with me.
We raced over the cliffs in Cape Verde rode camels in Moroccoand cage dived with sharks in South Africa. In Zimbabwe we even went cage diving with crocodiles. We paraglided over Rio during Carnival and danced for hours at a salsa convention in Paris.
But I also found magic in quieter moments—sharing food with locals in Vietnam and Thailand, wandering through Moroccan souks, and participating in festivals and ceremonies at invitations from people I met along the way.
Scott received her divemaster certification in the Philippines and continued diving in Thailand. Contributed by Sharonda Scott
Some experiences were deeply personal
In the Philippines I completed divemaster certificationmastering skills I've worked on for years. In Scotland, I celebrated a friend's wedding, reconnecting with people I hadn't seen for years.
Traveling alone forced me to constantly solve problems: exchanging currency, navigating transportation, finding food, and making friends in unfamiliar cultures.
As an introvert who thrives on social interaction, I've found that I can build community anywhere, and those relationships have shaped my experiences as much as the places themselves.
Scott rides a camel in Marrakech, Morocco with his mom and sister. Contributed by Sharonda Scott
Travel has changed my worldview
I slowed down, learned to trust the process and stopped striving for results. American dream as defined by society: house, car, white picket fence. My dream was freedom—the ability to move, explore, and experience the world on my own terms.
Now back in the US I'm traveling reverse culture shock. Hollywood is decentralizing to a large extent; auditions are scattered. I am exploring new projects in the field of tourism film and documentary work.
But my long-term vision is clearer than ever: I want to live abroad.
Looking back, my advice to anyone considering an adult gap year is simple: don't stress about it. Reduce your financial anchors, embrace flexibility, and trust the process.
Do you have a gap year story you'd like to share? Contact the editor: [email protected].
