I’m proud to say that I’ve had two interviews this year. The first was a medium sized school with great potential, but a long road ahead to get there. I was devastated when I didn’t get the offer because I thought I rocked the interview. In retrospect I learned two things. First, that I didn’t so much rock the interview as they let me drift through because they had already chosen their candidate, and second that I’m glad I didn’t get the offer because I would have taken it.
I would have negotiated hard, but taken the position, and it would have been the end of most things that I want to return to. Geographically it was all wrong. I would have survived, and worked hard, and been relatively successful in my career, but I doubt that I would have been happy in the long term. Happy to get a job, but how long would that have lasted? The money would have been nice though.
Now I’m waiting to hear from my last interview, which I don’t even want to think about. Again, at the time, I thought it was great, but now I am terrified. I don’t want to think about. But I will say this, the waiting for the call with an offer or rejection is horrid. Every time my office phone rings, my heart pounds. What if I am rejected? What if I get it? I just want it to be over. If I don’t get this job, I only have one other application still active out there. The year is done. My funding ends in May. I will soon be unemployed.
Either way, I am looking forward to some time off. I have projects that I could catch-up on. Camping and canoeing to do. Family and friends to catch-up with. Priorities are shifting for me, and that’s not a bad thing, but it feels bad. I think, ‘if I drop-out, isn’t this exactly why we have fewer women than men in academia’? Because I’m tired of sacrificing my personal life for my career? But then I think of the stress-induced health issues I’ve had the past two years, and I don’t think I have a choice other than die of a heart attack in 10 years. It’s the reconciliation of success versus failure and the life-work balance that I need.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Options or not; things will change
This year has more jobs than I've seen in the last three, and already I am long-listing it.
I feel really good about getting a job this year, which means when I don't, I'll be devastated!
As the stress builds again this year, I am reminded of the horrors I went through last year. Nose bleeds, chest pains, cat dying... And I feel myself getting closer to that stressed out state... but this year, I know it will end. I am pretty certain that come end-of-funding I will have options.
It's the options that both excite and terrify me. Some of these options may include going home, or very far away. I'm very conflicted about home. I'm sure anyone from a small town can relate. It's home; I miss it: I have life-long friends, it feels so comfortable - and that terrifies me. I am both drawn and repulsed by the idea of returning. It's kinda like government work; solid hours and funding, but somehow soul-sucking. To return would feel like failure. But how could that be?
I just don't know. It's best not to think about things. Just do.
So I started a new experiment. It's going to be way more involved than I first thought. It's only the first week and I am already exhausted. Too much on the To Do list and not enough time. My back hurts. Can't shut the brain down at night. I can tell my stress levels are up because my brain-voice is swearing a lot.
You know that crappy saying about the journey? It's about the journey, not the destination? I've always hated rollercoasters.
I feel really good about getting a job this year, which means when I don't, I'll be devastated!
As the stress builds again this year, I am reminded of the horrors I went through last year. Nose bleeds, chest pains, cat dying... And I feel myself getting closer to that stressed out state... but this year, I know it will end. I am pretty certain that come end-of-funding I will have options.
It's the options that both excite and terrify me. Some of these options may include going home, or very far away. I'm very conflicted about home. I'm sure anyone from a small town can relate. It's home; I miss it: I have life-long friends, it feels so comfortable - and that terrifies me. I am both drawn and repulsed by the idea of returning. It's kinda like government work; solid hours and funding, but somehow soul-sucking. To return would feel like failure. But how could that be?
I just don't know. It's best not to think about things. Just do.
So I started a new experiment. It's going to be way more involved than I first thought. It's only the first week and I am already exhausted. Too much on the To Do list and not enough time. My back hurts. Can't shut the brain down at night. I can tell my stress levels are up because my brain-voice is swearing a lot.
You know that crappy saying about the journey? It's about the journey, not the destination? I've always hated rollercoasters.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Ac-anaemia
There have been mornings, lying in bed, unable to fully wake up, with a slow but panicked voice in my head:
“Wake up!” “Wake up! – you’re not breathing!” “Are you breathing?” “You have to move, I don’t think your heart is beating” “Wake-up, you’re dying!”
Then my hair started to fall out. And the headaches, and chest pains. I thought it was stress. I’m sure the nosebleeds didn’t help.
So, I’m on iron pills. Getting ready to go home for a month. Major decisions have already been made, but will take time to play out. More jobs are being posted each day, but nothing I want to do, nor in places I want to live. But in my new realisations comes a weight lifted from my shoulders. I’m no longer going to worry about getting the academic job. I no longer care. I’ll apply for a few things that come up; but not sure I’d take them if they were offered. I’ll plan my experiments for the fall – the plan is to stock-pile a tonne of data, and then if nothing interesting comes along next May when my funding runs out, I’ll just go home.
I’ll write. I’ll run. I’ll take care of myself. Get healthy. Recover from the last 12 years of stress and hard work. Yes, I’m taking a sabbatical.
If I live cheaply, I figure I can survive for at least a year on my savings. In the mean time, I might pick up some contract or consulting work. I’ll live with my partner (I’ll tell him about this plan later), I’ll grow tomatoes, I’ll write my novel. I’ll write some grants with people around my home town, I’ll see my friends, I’ll do something. I don’t know what, but I’m not worried anymore. This feeling I’ve had for the past two years is slowly fading – and I wonder how much of it has been my career stress and how much has been anaemia. What if it was all just anaemia?
“Wake up!” “Wake up! – you’re not breathing!” “Are you breathing?” “You have to move, I don’t think your heart is beating” “Wake-up, you’re dying!”
Then my hair started to fall out. And the headaches, and chest pains. I thought it was stress. I’m sure the nosebleeds didn’t help.
So, I’m on iron pills. Getting ready to go home for a month. Major decisions have already been made, but will take time to play out. More jobs are being posted each day, but nothing I want to do, nor in places I want to live. But in my new realisations comes a weight lifted from my shoulders. I’m no longer going to worry about getting the academic job. I no longer care. I’ll apply for a few things that come up; but not sure I’d take them if they were offered. I’ll plan my experiments for the fall – the plan is to stock-pile a tonne of data, and then if nothing interesting comes along next May when my funding runs out, I’ll just go home.
I’ll write. I’ll run. I’ll take care of myself. Get healthy. Recover from the last 12 years of stress and hard work. Yes, I’m taking a sabbatical.
If I live cheaply, I figure I can survive for at least a year on my savings. In the mean time, I might pick up some contract or consulting work. I’ll live with my partner (I’ll tell him about this plan later), I’ll grow tomatoes, I’ll write my novel. I’ll write some grants with people around my home town, I’ll see my friends, I’ll do something. I don’t know what, but I’m not worried anymore. This feeling I’ve had for the past two years is slowly fading – and I wonder how much of it has been my career stress and how much has been anaemia. What if it was all just anaemia?
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Too depressed to blog – it must be bad
I’ve been taking a break from all things post-doc because I’ve found the whole situation too depressing to think about. I’ve been here two years. I’ve published a few papers, watched the job market tank, funding dry up, and gotten new wrinkles on my face. I look old, I feel old, and I still don’t have a job. I live thousands of kilometres away from my whole life; and the whole time I feel that I am on the cusp of a break though.
In fact, I know I am. But I just don’t know if I can do it. And the straw wasn’t my entire lack of personal life (and sex for that matter), but a realisation that I was leaving behind research I wanted to continue with just to be employable. Yes kids, it stopped being fun. And that was the whole reason I did it.
I used to love my job. Now I’m writing review papers about plant-pollination system for botany journals (note: this is NOT what I do).
The only solace I have is a PhD student in my lab who wants to be a film maker. I’m trying to get him to drop out.
Part of what I need to reconcile with are my expectations of success. If I’m not happy personally, am I successful? Not really. Especially since the catalyst for my academic career was fear of being trapped in a job I hated. I can’t call myself a failure, so why do I feel like one? maybe because this is a weird, weird profession where the bar is always higher than you will ever jump because it’s attached to the top of your head.
Funding runs out in May. Something will happen then.
In fact, I know I am. But I just don’t know if I can do it. And the straw wasn’t my entire lack of personal life (and sex for that matter), but a realisation that I was leaving behind research I wanted to continue with just to be employable. Yes kids, it stopped being fun. And that was the whole reason I did it.
I used to love my job. Now I’m writing review papers about plant-pollination system for botany journals (note: this is NOT what I do).
The only solace I have is a PhD student in my lab who wants to be a film maker. I’m trying to get him to drop out.
Part of what I need to reconcile with are my expectations of success. If I’m not happy personally, am I successful? Not really. Especially since the catalyst for my academic career was fear of being trapped in a job I hated. I can’t call myself a failure, so why do I feel like one? maybe because this is a weird, weird profession where the bar is always higher than you will ever jump because it’s attached to the top of your head.
Funding runs out in May. Something will happen then.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Life goes on (3)
New blog post. Finally.
Well, it took a while to move through the emotional state I was in after my pet died. I realised that I had been well entrenched in this mindset even before she died; that I had been experiencing grief, guilt, anxiety and loss for my old life since I’ve arrived here.
The job market has closed for the season (save one last posting), and I have nothing but two long lists and a phone interview to show for it. The last posting actually has the most promise for me, but whether I want it or not is another question. I want a job, of course, but, well, I guess I’m just scared. I know that regardless of the job, I need to apply; that an interview is a good thing for the CV, and that an offer is even better. Will I be able to do what I want within the context of this particular (or any) position, is up to me. What I am afraid of is not being able to live up to their expectations.
A while back I made a decision, based on comments on a job wiki, that it would be better for me to move onto another postdoc rather than a job I didn’t want, provided that the postdoc would produce high quality publications. But recent financial issues have cropped up, and I simply don’t think I can continue to postdoc. So, with that, I really want this new position, regardless of the location and their expectations. I can learn to teach anything they want me to teach. I can accept responsibilities that I have little experience for, and I can do it all while developing a strong research program.
I’m back to being excited about the future, but we’ll see how long that lasts. Today I’m up, but tomorrow…In the mean time, I’ll try to blog with a little more regularity.
Well, it took a while to move through the emotional state I was in after my pet died. I realised that I had been well entrenched in this mindset even before she died; that I had been experiencing grief, guilt, anxiety and loss for my old life since I’ve arrived here.
The job market has closed for the season (save one last posting), and I have nothing but two long lists and a phone interview to show for it. The last posting actually has the most promise for me, but whether I want it or not is another question. I want a job, of course, but, well, I guess I’m just scared. I know that regardless of the job, I need to apply; that an interview is a good thing for the CV, and that an offer is even better. Will I be able to do what I want within the context of this particular (or any) position, is up to me. What I am afraid of is not being able to live up to their expectations.
A while back I made a decision, based on comments on a job wiki, that it would be better for me to move onto another postdoc rather than a job I didn’t want, provided that the postdoc would produce high quality publications. But recent financial issues have cropped up, and I simply don’t think I can continue to postdoc. So, with that, I really want this new position, regardless of the location and their expectations. I can learn to teach anything they want me to teach. I can accept responsibilities that I have little experience for, and I can do it all while developing a strong research program.
I’m back to being excited about the future, but we’ll see how long that lasts. Today I’m up, but tomorrow…In the mean time, I’ll try to blog with a little more regularity.
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