5 Things You Might Lose When Leaving Academia – and What You Might Gain by Dr John Ankers

Recently I wrote about coaching academics at crossroads in their careers. I focussed on the practicalities – but the emotions involved in such forks in the road also play a huge part in our decisions, and challenge our mental health. I agonized over the decision to leave for the last three years of my time in academia. I was torn between a job I used to love but had grown to dread, loyalties to the research, and to a young family that I was helping to support.  Privately, I suffered panic attacks, night sweats – I ended up in hospital with heart issues. And still, I couldn’t see the wood for the trees. Looking back, I was seeking permission – and while my family gave it without question, over and over again, I was denying it to myself.

As individuals, PhDs choose widely different paths – some stay in academia (facing the stress of fierce competition), others switch roles or leave academia for something new. While every candidate, and every position, is different, career crossroads are common and frequent – life-changing decisions that happen regularly! It’s no wonder that wellbeing can suffer – especially when trying to weigh up different factors in work and life. 

Here are some issues that gave me and some of my academic clients pause for thought before a leap to new career paths. Some may be obvious, others maybe not. The hope is that, forewarned and forearmed, you can choose what you take from where you are now as you progress, and ultimately feel better about your decisions, whatever they may be. 

Guilt

The workload in academia is endless. Every answer raises a new question – peel back a layer of knowledge and there’s another enigma there winking at you. The work is never done. So, there is rarely a “right time” to leave, or change paths, or jump to a new project. The research doesn’t care; it just sits there, goading your forebrain at 3AM – leaving, eh? How about just one more experiment, one more year, one more paper. 

In my experience, the guilt of leaving a pet project in someone else’s hands fades over time. So too the guilt of not meeting expectations – which are also limitless. Academia seems to attract people pleasers – *raises hand* – and line managers know this very well. Every batted-back email, hastily put-together slide, and weekend phone call begats another and another. There are just as many expectations working outside academia of course, but not quite so many hidden ones.

I still feel guilty about some of the choices I made, even though I also know I made them for the right reasons. I know I’m principled, and so reacted hard to the bullish, arrogant nature of some academics I encountered. I dug my heels in, I was equally stubborn. The only route forward in academia seemed to be as someone I didn’t want to be. But I battle my guilt with a question – is my wellbeing better now than it was then? Truly: yes. Finding a role, a place that allows you to be you – in or outside academia – is the key to better mental health, and, ultimately, a better quality of life.

Challenge

This is tough. Working at the coal face of scientific research was thrilling for me. This, and the relative security of the academic bubble (see below) are the reasons I stayed longer than I should. Challenge is a common motivator, a common value, for many academics I’ve coached. If this is true for you, leaving your research behind might leave an emptiness. This in turn can lead to a stealthy erosion of our mental health – a missing piece you can’t quite pin down. No doubt about it, academia provides a certain type of challenge, the key is balance – motivating yourself with healthy “positive stress” without risking burning out. One metaphor I like is keeping your guitar strings tight, but not too tight! 

How easy it is to meet a need for challenge outside academia varies, but many of my clients find they can scratch a similar itch in industry or “Altac” (Alt-ac) positions, while I enjoy having a portfolio career with lots of plates spinning at once. Think about how much you’ll miss the challenge of what you’re doing now – is it specific? What other challenges might drive you in a similar way?

Security

When I told my last boss I was leaving research science, he said “You must be very rich”. I wasn’t, and this particular piece of – let’s call it advice – stuck with me. I had a young family, and the relative financial security of university was essential for a time – then it became obvious they needed me, healthy, more. I won a competition for funding towards training as a coach from some friendly folk in my department, and I jumped. 

There are perks at every level of academia, from a free lunch every now and then, to travel expenses, stationery, a pension and stationery. But putting the free pens to one side (literally, fill a bag) when you leave, all of the trappings of the university environment go too. At one debrief meeting, I joked that I was surprised my parking permit still worked. On the way out, it didn’t. The academic bubble, with its fortified walls, 24-hour swipe access and just-about-nap-worthy chairs can seem like a shelter, a fortress of knowledge. A community working towards a noble goal. I can’t stress this enough – for some, it is.

For others, their academic experience casts senior researchers as Viking Jarls and huge funding grants as silvery whales – loyalty swinging to the leader who bags the biggest carcass and drags it back for the minions to nibble on. Couple this with high staff turnover and narratives sitting in the hands of the most enduring storyteller and there’s a perfect storm for bullying, cronyism, and several other isms. Dealing with these stressors, often behind closed doors, is a frequent and sensitive issue for my coaching clients. There are inner conflicts, clashes of values, and toxic relationships that weigh heavily on mental health.

For some of my coaching clients – to keep the peace, to preserve their careers – what goes on is often ignored, or laughed off. Some took a stand, and risked being branded as “trouble makers”. To stretch the Viking analogy one last time, rock the boat and you’re in the sea. If this is you, you are not alone. Things are improving, rapidly, but the duplicity of the public vs private face of some research groups often tips people towards happier shores. (Where there are also pens.)

People

My academic clients are often surprised to find how isolated they’ve become in their careers, and how the route back to collaboration and community might start with something as simple as coffee in the common room. In sharp contrast to later on, my PhD was three of the best years of my life, with colleagues who became friends. I have never laughed so much, worked with so much purpose, or felt like I belonged, as I did then. I’m smiling just writing about it, and it confirms my belief that the people around you dictate your experience of academia (and everywhere else). 

Every lab has someone who looks after the people, without being asked, because it is the right thing to do. They chivvy and cheer, and absorb bad feeling. These people then, are academia’s heroes – the reason the cogs keep turning, or turn at all. You may have met them during interview – they’ll be described as “the one who really runs things”, or “the parent figure of the lab”. You’ll recognise them because they hold your gaze when the boss makes a crap joke. They offer you a glimmer of hope that you can survive here. Their heroism might be unsung, or rewarded with grants or authorship, but it is appreciated, and each and every one them should be tenured on the spot. 

Whether you move upwards, sideways or away from academia, your wellbeing will always be boosted by having good people around you. I wouldn’t have made it through the last few years of my time in academia in quite the same way, without them. But since leaving – perhaps because I wanted a clean break – I haven’t seen them much. Even in the same city, the academic bubble feels like a world away. This is my only regret. (I miss you all.) So, I offer this to you – if you leave, make sure you stay in touch, even in some small way, with the people who matter. 

Identity

As with any career, there is a risk of who you are becoming what you are. Academics are prone to identify strongly with their jobs. There’s nothing inherently wrong with being what you do – academics work incredibly hard and academia can be a life-long vocation – perhaps it fulfils a dream they’ve had since they were creeping around the garden with their first magnifying glass. Yet we are people too. Individuals. Time and time again, during coaching, clients are surprised that they need to feel like *more than* their job titles to maintain healthy balance and wellbeing. The language of academic organizations – “student body, “post doc community” and “faculty” tends to group people together when convenient, yet these institutions expect candidates to know how to rise above the crowd when applying for positions. More worrying, for those leaving, your identity might be lost in the fray. Striking out on your own means you may not be a member of a prestigious institution any more. All those labels will fall away. For a while that may feel like a sacrifice. Your sense of self may be pruned, but it will grow again. Take a deep breath and imagine deleting lines on your email signature until it’s just your name. Perhaps how you feel about that is a good test of whether it’s time to leave.

Conclusion – So, what’s the answer?

Some of my clients decide they want to stay in academia, despite the pressures, and the competition. I help them feel comfortable promoting their achievements, standing out, and being clear and confident at interview. It’s still a huge challenge.

For those who leave, or are thinking about leaving, these skills are useful too. But crossroads present an opportunity to reframe, to leave the mental baggage you don’t want or need and even completely reinvent yourself. The key is clarity – without it, choices are uncertain, and mental health can suffer. With clarity – on your goals, on what makes you you – decisions become easier. I’ve written elsewhere on how to find balance in academia.

Coaching can help (I suppose I would say that!). But through my own experience, and those of my clients, we can choose to leave guilt behind (and usually it fades with time). We can find challenge in other places, or by combining different roles. You can decide if you need the comfort of life behind the academic shield wall (sorry, Vikings again!) With clarity that academia is for truly you, you’ll fight harder to stay there.

 Or maybe you are ready to strike out for yourself, carrying your experiences with you? For the sake of your wellbeing, stay in touch with important people, they will cheer you on. Decide what your values – not your employers’ – really are. This is your identity. This is you. Then find a position which matches. For some of my clients who left, while they might be motivated by more money, time or freedom, what was most rewarding long-term is the feeling of belonging. A sense of place and purpose.

 The issue for many PhDs seeking jobs inside and outside academia is connecting with the right position for them. So do your research. You’re trained for it! Most importantly, forget the expectations of the “student body” or “faculty” – you are an individual. This crossroads is yours – where to next?

John Ankers is a well-being coach for scientists, writer and online A-level biology tutor. He has a PhD in cell biology and systems biology. His recent article “I left academia to coach other academics at a crossroads” appeared in Times Higher Education.

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