Most of us thought we’d spend our whole lives in academia. So when it turns out we won’t — whether we learn that we don’t want to, don’t get a job that actually pays the bills, or hit a roadbump along the way — it feels particularly craptastic. This is true even if we’re planning to stay but are having to rethink our relationship to academia. So this is a space for talking about the kinds of things that come up for people and how we can move past them.
So, something has changed
We deal with change all the time in our lives – a company discontinues our favorite lip balm, the city installs a new traffic light, we get a new sweater. But most of the time, change doesn’t tweak us for more than a few minutes.
When something is purely change, then we might have a few minutes of disgruntled or confusion or forgetting, but soon enough we’re acclimated. We buy a different lip balm, we remember to stop at the light, we enjoy the new garment.
When change affects our sense of who we are or who we could be, however, it’s more than change – it’s called transition. Change is external, but transition is internal, and transition is really hard.
Lots of transition
Transition is hard whether the change is something you want (you got a tenure track job! Yay!) or something you don’t want (you’re considering leaving academia). Transition shows up whenever we have to reconceptualize who we are to ourselves.
Did I mention it’s hard? It’s hard. It’s always hard. And that means that, if you’re going through transition right now and it’s hard? Totally normal.
Varieties of hard
Regardless of whether or not you think the change is a good one, the first thing that happens in transition is loss and grief. Why? Because you’re leaving a part of yourself behind, and that part had a lot of good things about it.
For example, however much we might all be ready to be done with graduate school already, there’s a lot of security in being in a situation where someone else has made the rules and we’re just playing the game. There’s a lot of security in having an advisor. There’s a lot of security to being in the same place we’ve lived for half a dozen years.
But now, no matter what happens next, we’re graduating, and we’re losing all of those points of security. Even if you’re excited about where you’re going, that part will be hard.
After the loss and grief comes what William Bridges calls “the neutral zone,” but that’s much too nice a term. No, what comes next is the wilderness. What comes next is the underworld. What comes next is not knowing what the hell you’re doing or how this transition and change is going to manifest.
In the wilderness, you’re a beginner again. You’re lost, you’re confused, and you’re trying to get your bearings. Maybe you’re trying to find your balance as a professor. Maybe you’re learning how to get along outside of academia. Wherever you are, it’s new and it’s unfamiliar and it’s scary.
And after the wilderness comes the new beginning – the new identity, the new situation, the new you. Even if it’s a transition you didn’t want to experience, this part comes with its own rewards in the form of relief, of feeling more secure, of maybe even being a little bit excited about where you are.
In other words, it’s all normal
Rage, grief, exasperation, impatience, fear, hope, curiosity, despair – they’re all totally and perfectly normal when you’re going through transition. They are exactly what you’re supposed to be feeling.
They are not a sign that things are wrong. They are not a sign that you should go back (which you can’t do anyway). They are not a sign that you’re messing it up.
They are, in fact, a sign that you’re right where you’re supposed to be.
Transition isn’t fun. At all. But it comes with the territory of being human, and it’s what we go through when we change and grow.
And knowing that it’s normal to be sad that you’re leaving behind something you’ve decided you don’t want can help you stop beating yourself up or second-guessing yourself. Knowing it’s normal to be lost and confused and feel helpless can help you stop panicking and trust the process. Knowing it’s normal to get a little excited at your new prospects even though you didn’t want this change at all can help you stop the self-recrimination.
You’re doing it just right. I promise.
I just came across this blog, and am glad that I did. I am an assistant professor who is looking to leave a wretched job that is several states away from my wife. Making this decision has been absolutely gut-wrenching, since I did manage to get through the job market wringer after three tries and two years in a “visiting” position. Any special advice for those of us who are quitting even after getting on the tenure track?
Werner Herzog’s Bear´s last blog post ..The Second Anti-New Deal
I, too, left a tenure-track job. So first, lots of sympathy for having gotten to the tenure-track (and all of the suffering it took!) only to find out it’s not for you. It is wrenching.
As for specific advice, I’d say the most important thing is crafting an explanation for your leaving that is honest without sounding bitter. (Bitterness is absolutely valid. It’s just got no place in a job interview.) But after that, I’d say time to process the experience and come to terms with it yourself. It’s not easy and it’s not fast.
But after all of that, let me say congratulations on walking away from a situation that is clearly not making you happy.