Death of a postdoc

I sold my car today. I cleaned the dashboard of old, leaking chewing gum packs and loose quarters and picked up the empty water bottles stashed in the rear doors. I recycled the dozen fliers, receipts and bills and then wished the new owners the best of travels and left. Before I drove to the DMV to sell the car, I dropped off three bags of clothes, shoes, linen and towels that I don’t need anymore. Well, at least I hope I won’t need anymore. I definitely don’t have the space to carry them with me. I have had the car for as long as I have been a postdoc, and for about half the time that I have been in this country. It’s so hard for sentimental idiots like me, to part with things. That ratty T-shirt  I bought from the store near first block way back in 2008, before I had started my PhD. Why did I hold onto it for so long?! Hoarder.

At work I’ve started my farewell tour. I meet with colleagues, mentors, lunchroom acquaintances, that janitor lady and the starbucks barista who makes the best cafe misto, and tell them all that I’m leaving. Oh really? that’s great, where are you going? Oh, I’m sure something will work out. Did you try such and such? Oh well, enjoy your break! Thank you I say. I’ll give you my gmail so we can stay in touch, I offer. I try to confide to some, that in fact, its breathtakingly scary. I’ve been trying to find a job for the past six months and I haven’t yet. But people don’t want to hear that. They don’t want to know, that I’ve had a good postdoc, that I published papers, collaborated, went to conferences, got awards, networked and that I did everything right that I was supposed to, and yet here I am on my farewell tour receiving condolences from everyone I meet. I’m sorry you feel sorry for me but I don’t know what I could’ve done better. I don’t know why search committees didn’t like my research proposal. Or could it be me? Could it be that everything I’ve trained for and everything I’ve been told is everything that I shouldn’t do? Or could it be that job search in academia for faculty positions is a crapshoot.

Such is the life of a postdoc. We all know that its not a permanent position, and much as we’d love to, we can’t keep being a postdoc forever. Same as I can’t keep living here forever. US has been home for so long and I wish I could live every day over and over again. That summer’s day in 2016, on the trail with our bikes as the stream gurgled past.. that fall day in the C&O towpath where I ran over a snake and had a panic attack.. that evening we met in DC to go see the cherry blossoms by the tidal basin.. those manic Friday evenings where we scrambled to make it to the airport in rush hour traffic.. CDX, Denver, Nola, LA and so many more! I’m only leaving the country and my job, but it feels like I’m leaving my twenties behind.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited for what awaits me! New adventures, new homes, new trails and new places. Not for one second do I not want to leave the US. I’m done. It was great, getting to know so many wonderful people, working at the edge of science and being part of this microcosm. I had my fun and now I’m ready to leave this all behind and enter the real world. It would help to see where my feet will land once I take the leap, but I’m sure I’ll figure something out mid-flight. I just have to let go of these nasty nostalgic cobwebs and jump.

It’s been a real honor.