My greatest mistake? Not understanding the value of disconnecting from work.

I started my post-college career in management consulting in Chicago. It was one of the best decisions I’ve made: I worked alongside incredibly smart (and fun) colleagues, engaged on a wide variety of business challenges across industries, and built analytic skills that have served me throughout my career.

One of my best friends moved to China after college and invited me to spend time traveling the country with her. I was in my second year of consulting, I had never been to Asia, and figured this was the chance of a lifetime to see China (especially Beijing) before it changed dramatically in preparation for the 2008 Summer Olympics.

I understand that two-week vacations are not common—especially in management consulting—but it didn’t make sense to me to fly halfway around the world and not have enough time to see much of China. So, several months in advance, I submitted the two-week vacation request for approval.

I felt important to be needed, to seemingly be integral to the operations of a Fortune 500 company, especially so early in my career. Of course, I was far from needed . . . but the flattery worked on me. Ultimately, I made the two-week trip to China, but it was a year later than originally planned, and the approval was contingent upon my spending a day working from our firm’s office in Shanghai.

Whether it’s flattery with a side of self-importance (like my experience) or a boss who doesn’t respect our boundaries or take vacation themselves, I think we’ve all felt pressure not to take real time off from work at some point in our careers. But not doing this can be draining and drive resentment and, eventually, it catches up with you.

Fast forward twelve years to May 2016. I had been bitten by the startup bug and found myself as an early executive at Peloton helping to build the retention marketing, customer experience, and member support functions. I had inherited a small and junior team and had to build much of the supporting processes and systems myself, and on a shoestring.

Four months into my time at Peloton, I took my first real (and much needed) vacation; my then-fiancé and I cashed in our points and went to Saint Martin for a week. Up to that point, the job had been all-consuming and exhausting. Not only was I working to prove myself to a new boss and a new team, but also each week (and often day) seemed to bring with it another fire drill, from a resignation to an unexpected stockout.

My vacation was no exception. Upon landing in Saint Martin, I received a text message that things had gone sideways at work. A decision I had made several weeks earlier had been rolled out and the redemption rate was far higher than expected, which was costing us more than we had budgeted.

At an early-stage startup, these types of miscalculations can sink the company. In retrospect, I don’t think my misjudgment fell into this category, but remedying the issue felt both important and urgent, and I had a pit in my stomach for the entire week away from the office.

In fact, I spent every day of the trip working in the hotel room, looking out the window ruefully at my fiancé sitting by himself on the beach. We had breakfast and dinner together each day, but the rest of my time was spent huddled over my laptop and on calls trying to right the ship.

I felt terrible. I was letting my new employer down and I was letting my future husband down. Ultimately, we righted the ship at work but my very understanding (now) husband and I still reference that trip to Saint Martin as our worst vacation ever.

Two months after that trip to Saint Martin, I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. I had been experiencing foot drop intermittently for about two years, and had spent the prior eight months being tested—and frustratingly misdiagnosed—without any firm conclusions. In many ways, I was relieved; I finally knew the cause of the symptoms I had been experiencing and could now seek treatment.

The diagnosis compelled me to rethink my priorities. And while, as far as we know, stress doesn’t cause MS, it certainly doesn’t make it easier to manage. I would never give up on working hard—I love work and always have—but I would no longer let a perception of self-importance get in the way of quality time with my family, especially my husband.

The next year, before turning on my Out-of-Office message for our wedding and honeymoon, I mostly-seriously told my then-boss that even if the company burned to the ground while I was away, I could wait to find out until I got home. I think he got the message. Our wedding was everything we had hoped for, and the honeymoon—a once-in-a-lifetime African safari—was truly amazing.