In his novel Paper Towns, author-historian-vlogger-nerdfighter-extraordinaire John Green writes that “It is so hard to leave—until you leave. And then it is the easiest goddamned thing in the world.”
Well, it is. But it isn’t.
I “left academia” nearly seven years ago, and even though I’m incredibly happy with where I landed, I think there will always be that twinge that pops up every-so-often, that wistful longing of “if only I could have made it.”
I’m not always very good with staying up on Twitter, but about two weeks ago I caught Erin Bartram’s post on leaving academia the day she tweeted about it. In “The Sublimated Grief of the Left Behind,” she writes eloquently and passionately about her decision to leave academia, to not pursue another round of the academic job market, and the grief, of course, that comes with that.
I nodded as I read it. I’ve been there. A bit differently, of course, but I’ve been there, and I have felt that.