Careers don't always go to plan

Things in life change, and you can't always predict how that will happen.

Since I was a teenager I've been driven to find answers to fundamental questions about reality, our place in it, and what we should do. This led me through undergraduate philosophy, where I discovered a structure for how to explore these questions - to peel away what was insignificant and use logic to carve up the world into what was real and what wasn't. During my PhD, I discovered my passion for teaching these techniques and debating these sometimes intractable problems.

But, despite attaining my doctorate and having many years of teaching experience, my academic career has not really flourished. This is, perhaps, a function of my tendency to concentrate more on being a good teacher than writing for publication. I spent years blaming myself for this perceived failure. But as time has passed, especially since I relocated to Melbourne, I've met amazingly talented scholars who have a mountain of journal articles, monographs and books, and still can't land that elusive permanent academic position.

For evidence of the structural nature of the problems with philosophy here in Australia, you needn't go further than analysis conducted by Dr Inger "The Thesis Whisperer" Mewburn. You know how many ongoing philosophy jobs were advertised in Australia in 2019? One. In 43 universities, that taught (prior to COVID-19) around 1.5 million students, there was one single philosophy position advertised. I was already thinking that I wanted and needed a change of direction for some time now, but this has utterly solidified it.

This process of personal/professional change feels weird to me, and is definitely a work in progress. I know I have developed a range of transferable skills during my time in academia:

• I can write effectively across a range of communication styles, from technical to conversational
• Public speaking - no problem
• Facilitating difficult discussions - I live for it
• Explaining complex topics to people who don't understand them yet - that's literally been my professional life since I started my PhD 2006.

Figuring out how to apply these skills outside of a university context - that's what has been the challenge for me, as it's the one thing my studies in philosophy never taught me.

Trying Something Different

This year I decided to get serous about my professional development and build on these skills. I've taken LinkedIn Learning courses on social media management and communication. I even completed a learning pathway on 'Thought Leadership', which mainly consists of applying strategic planning to your own career (which is just what I needed).

I'm also currently completing the La Trobe Business School Leadership Professional Development Program. This has challenged me to think about how I lead myself and others, and reflect on my leadership strengths (empathy, commitment to ethics) and weaknesses (irrational fear of negative feedback).

I only initially started the program because my academic work had dried up this semester due to the pandemic, so I thought it was a good opportunity to expand my business knowledge and network outside of my usual contacts. But it was good timing, as I've been elected Vice President of the non-profit organisation I volunteer with, the Australian Psychedelic Society. I never thought of myself as a leader, but it turns out that maybe I am.

Maybe I've always put too much stock in what I think about the future? I never anticipated doing a business leadership course, but I am. I never thought investors would flock to psychedelic companies in the way that they have recently (but they are). I never thought I'd write a blog post about microdosing for Third Wave. I never thought my non-academic passion for advocacy, drug-law reform, natural medicine, and psychedelics would ever be part of my professional life.

I never thought lots of things, but, funnily enough, the universe has paid little attention to this.

What Now?

Where does all this take me? Where am I going? The truth is, I don't know. I know I'm tired of the absence of job security in academia and the economic precarity that goes with it. I know I'd like to make a positive difference to the world, and that there are some values I won't compromise on. Within those parameters, my future is open.

I'm taking comfort, perhaps ironically, in how wrong I've been about things in the past as a way to temper my natural pessimism. I mean, I can't really believe that one of those newly cashed-up psychedelic companies will ever consult with me on the unique ethical pitfalls they face in bringing their products to market. But maybe, with a bit of effort and a lot of luck, I can be wrong about that too.

On the off chance that you're a potential employer or client reading this right now, and you think I might have something to contribute to your organisation, my main advice to you is this: Don't hesitate to contact me. If you're not the first to me with a decent offer, you'll miss out.

For me, the above paragraph is not the way I'm used to thinking about myself. But part of diversifying from academic work has been, for me, acknowledging that I am worthwhile in this way, even if I haven't landed my dream gig yet.