There are no pictures today. There’s nothing to be seen.
But there’s something to say, I suppose. Something to whisper about learning to compromise, for real and for the first time in nearly 35 years. Something about the sadness of stepping off of a path you’ve been on for nearly a decade.
Today I will turn down a tenure-track offer at a school I really love, a place where I could imagine myself walking across campus, flanked by students and colleagues, a place that seemed excited about me and my work. A place whose affections I returned wholeheartedly. It was the one job on my list of applications this year that I really wanted (well, that is excluding a harebrained idea about the geographical perfection of a school on the shores of Lake Superior) and I felt truly compelled by its commitments and its pedagogical orientation. J and I went back there for a return visit this weekend and I was confirmed in my first impressions: I felt deeply drawn to the place and most importantly, to the people.
All of this surprised me, after so many years of so much ambivalence. I was stunned to find myself so eager to take this position, so determined to begin a life there. So excited about planning my classes and thinking about undergraduate research. And I came to feel immensely comfortable and confident in my ability to do good work in and out of this school’s classrooms. I would be lying if I didn’t also admit that I felt proud of myself, proud to have finally gotten somewhere in this tortured world of academics. I felt visible--if that makes sense--and instead of feeling terrified by that, I felt exhilarated.
But as I said, today I will foreclose this avenue. I’ve also declined the fellowship I mentioned a couple weeks ago. I’ve bowed out, or at least that’s the way it feels.
Instead, I’ve chosen my marriage. Maybe the decision is not this stark, but at the moment it certainly feels this way. I’m conscious, of course, of all the women who have been forced or encouraged to make similar choices, but I’m also aware that my choice this time couldn’t be about righting a historical wrong or standing on principle alone. It had to be a choice made with another about what was best (though certainly not right) for us knowing what we know right now.
For us. Right now.
We know that J has a job that he cares deeply about (and probably should not complain about for at least eighteen months) and I have a two-year visiting position there. I will not have a say in what I teach but I also won’t have a tenure clock ticking. We’ll both have benefits and I’ll have the space to figure out what might come next for me, in academics and in life. This feels tremendous scary, terrifying really, after so many years of marching toward a single goal, one that I’ve just chosen to put aside.
I’m worried that I’m going to feel adrift and that I’m always going to be the one in the contingent position, the one who’s trailing instead of the one taking the lead. I worry that I’m going to feel resentful and frustrated. I’m worried that I’m going to curse Kentucky for the next five years. I'm worried that I feel all of this because I don't trust J in quite the way that I should. I'm stubbornly independent, as I've always been, and it's painful to let go -- or even loosen my grip -- on that.
But I also know that it’s time for me, for us, to move forward, through these worries and through this fear. I’m not going to give up on this sadness right now, because that feels too important to ignore, but I am going to choose to move forward through all of this.
I want to think about this time as one of possibility, of promises that I can't now imagine. Who knows, maybe I can finally get around to writing that book about being a prude or the one about popping pills. Maybe we'll get a puppy and plant a garden. Maybe I'll find myself flanked by students of a different sort.
9 comments:
I know how difficult this decision must have been for you, and I think you should be proud of your choice. It's never easy to be the person sacrificing something, and, at least for me, as a woman and a feminist, I always feel that there's the added expectation to sacrifice (on one side) and NOT to sacrifice (on the other), which plays into personal decisions in a way that it just shouldn't.
You're doing what's best for you right now, and that's really all you can do. Feel the grief for what you've given up, and joy for what you're gaining, and just keep moving forward.
wow. I've been thinking of you a lot as you guys have been pondering this (these) decisions. Kristin is totally right, and she says it beautifully. As you do, in your post (always). I think that when people who really care about each other make a decision together, thoughtfully, questions of right and wrong should fall away. There is a loveliness in it, after all, in trusting and jumping.
I am so sorry that this decision has become such a heartbreaking one, but it seems like the right one because it is a decision made out of love and of taking care of your family of two in a larger and more real way. I'm sorry it hurts on so many levels (I can and can't imagine how hard - at the same time) to let that other opportunity go, but know that there are so many - unknown and unplanned for - that are coming your way. :)
I can only echo what the others say so eloquently. And I would like to second what you say here in this post so well: you *should* be proud of yourself for doing so very, very well in this horrible market. And you should also be proud of yourself for securing a visiting position. That is a huge thing for a two-academic couple.
That's the pragmatic professional stuff. I realize that it is larger than that--more complicated, more difficult. I truly feel for you in this. I really do believe, though, that we cannot see where our lives will take us, and you, my dear, are so talented, so generous, and so hard-working that I really just know deep down that you will continue to do wonderful, amazing things. And we will continue to be proud to know you.
Anne, I haven't had to make the same choice, but I've definitely felt caught in the midst of some of the same factors (I like the way Kristin describes the pressure not to sacrifice). I haven't been married that long, but I can say that I have not yet been sorry about decisions that have prioritized my marriage, even when the projected costs to my independence made me hesitant about them at the time--sometimes there have been frustrations and disappointments and resentments, for sure, but there has also always been the knowledge that I've put my marriage ahead of whatever else it was. I can bear those frustrations, and for myself, I could not bear the consequences of a different choice.
I can't thank all of you enough for responding so perfectly, so thoughtfully to this decision. One of things that I most feared was the way I'd be perceived by my friends and my colleagues. Thank you for not making me feel like I was throwing my life away.
Without a doubt, this has been the most difficult decision of my life, pitting, as it has, my personal and my professional desires against one another. I hope that I can move beyond this rigid binary and begin to feel the ways in which a more stable personal life might, in fact, nurture my work at school.
But first I need to go on being sad for awhile. That's natural, right?
Of course, you can feel sad. As you say, that's only natural. There's sacrifice and regret, surely. However, as a fan of yours, it's also my job to remind you that your professional life isn't over and that I know you will continue to do great things.
As smart, type-A, perfectionist women, growing up at when we did, the daughters of feminists who taught us well, we were told we could have it all. And at some point that turned into we must have it all. Which is simply not true or feasible. I both hope to be and dread being in your position, Anne, and you’ve handled it beautifully. Congrats on making such a hard decision, hopefully what the future holds will be cake. Be peaceful in your sadness. And by all means, get a puppy.
-EZ
oh anne, i think you are going to be just fine. go ahead and wallow for a bit, you are entitled and it can really make a girl feel better! just remember that if you find yourself mired in misery 2 years down the line then it should be your turn to choose a next step, one that will make your career happy.
but what if, 2 years down the line, you have grown to adore kentucky and the life you have started to build there? i say yes, get a dog, plant a garden and meet some amazing people. being married is about the whole after all and what you will get from being together should make the sacrifice feel less so. it's ok to trust people. it's a skill like any other. you just have to practice and it sounds like this is a pretty big step.
i am facing the same type of thing in the near future. i realize i am not on a career path at the moment but jake is hot to trot to boston and is exploring opportunities there. since he is the one working i am going to let him make this decision, as sad as the thought makes me. but i know that i will make new friends (slowly) and find a life there just as i have here (eventually). it's going to be hard but the nugget of a family we have carved out is worth it.
i think the hard part is over... the decision has been made. wallow a bit and then press on. it may even start to feel like an adventure??
sorry for the rambling... sometimes i can't help myself.
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