From the ashes?

It’s been about four years since I last wrote here. In my last post I tried to make sense of my decision when I left academia, and in a way it’s still a sensitive issue.

But so much has changed.

Since late 2018 and for about 4 years I worked at a market research company. No palaeography for me, no manuscripts. What at first seemed almost like a self-imposed punishment became such a valuable life lesson. After all, I can — we all can — thrive anywhere. In those years not only did I do something different, but I felt valued and respected every step of the way.

In a way, having done a PhD wasn’t just about letterforms. I had the skills and the patience to tackle project management. I knew nothing about marketing, but I could organise myself, work independently and — of course — I had an exacting and fastidious attention to detail. Even though deep inside I didn’t feel like I wanted to do management forever, I felt a sense of inner calm that I hadn’t felt in … well, many years. I had the fortune of working with great managers, of becoming a manager myself, and of being given opportunities to grow. That first frustration about not ‘being enough’ for academia became an ease, a sense of maybe not fulfilment, but contentment.

In the 4 years I was away from manuscripts I grew in ways that maybe having had an academic job straight out the PhD wouldn’t have allowed. I became tougher — client meetings and calls, budgets, issues, complaints and negotiations prepare you for almost anything — and I also gained a perspective on what I feel is acceptable (and unacceptable) in the workplace. Work-life balance, non-existing in my PhD years, became something I now care about. Looking out for myself and my wellbeing became something I deeply care about. I only have — maybe surprisingly — the corporate world to thank for that.

I know I’m extremely lucky and privileged of having had such a good corporate experience. It was, if you will, a gift from the universe that I could have that for as long as I needed it.

Fast-forward to 2022. Things have changed, again. We now have a home we can call our own, in a little village in the Midlands. I manage part of a team at work, and I feel the strain of having to commute to London every week. As soon as I started to entertain the idea of maybe finding another job — one that would help my now-steemed work-life balance — the email came. The JSPS (Japan Society for the Promotion of Science) was receiving applications for postdocs in Japan. Back when I was doing my PhD I tried to get one of JSPS’s doctoral fellowships, but decided not to apply as the pressures of finishing up were too great. I saw the call for applications, and hours later my PhD supervisor forwarded me the same email… would I be interested? she asked. For the first time in 4 years, I took a deep breath and read all the information. And for the first time in 4 years, I felt something. I was ready.

I knew deep inside that I wanted to try, but I also was scared that I’d lost my chance. After all, I’d been away for so long. I gave it some thought and I came to the conclusion that this was a test. A test of readiness, yes, but also a test from the academic world. This application would perhaps be my last attempt, and if I failed it would be the world telling me my academic days are over. It may sound dramatic, but I didn’t want to put myself in a position where my whole life depended on this application. I would try, but if it didn’t work I was ready to pivot, again.

As you now know, it worked. I got the fellowship, and I’m now writing from Tokyo. After three months here it still feels surreal. I feel a responsibility to do well, to give back to those that believed in me one more time. But it’s also joyous just being here, looking at manuscripts again. The Impostor Syndrome monster is alive and well — after all, I’ve been out of the game for a long time and I feel I need to prove myself twice as hard — but I’m also in a different, better space than in 2018. I’m stronger, I know what I want and what I don’t want for myself.

I’m back.