A path not taken

Today is my last day.

Not my last last, of course, but my last day at Imperial College London. Which in some ways does risk making it my last day.

This prompts some personal reflection.

We look back at choices we made with different eyes to those that were making the choices.

As an academic, we wed a huge amount of our identity to our professional life. To who we are and the status that is afforded to us. Initially this is supported through credentialism, but eventually if you’re lucky and things go the right way, you gain status simply by doing what you are afforded to do in the environment in which you occupy.

This makes change difficult. It’s also unusual. My friends inside the academy rarely move jobs, and sometimes I get the sense that many are confused at the choice I have made.

Perhaps they ask — “why have I given up so much?” Perhaps I should say — “because I could, and what I had is not what I wanted?” This framing of course begs a question to ponder whether I know what I want. I probably have no idea, but something was out of balance for me in my past existence.

I have been afforded the time and space to do quite a lot of things.

There is a tedious listing that spills forth in my mind. While I may be forgetful of many, my camera roll and my colleagues are quick on the ball and prompt happy reminiscence of the times we shared, the challenges we faced, and the way we have made it through.

I can say that the last nine years have been a joy to experience. Of course there was drama, challenge, and despair, but on balance the time has been good to me.

The good times are flavoured by the people who I shared them with. It is going to be a challenge to remember to say thank you to them, but I think I shall spend some of this week trying to. I think and hope that if the pandemic teaches us one things — we have been taking each other for granted.

This lego figurine feels a kinder and more important aspect of my accomplishment than much of what I have achieved as listed on my CV.

Given my time at Imperial, Had I the opportunity to do this differently, would I?

I’m not the same person I was when I started. I’m jaded by some past experience, less naïve and perhaps my ambition has focussed itself.

The scales of success used to be lined with the professional accomplishments. Maybe there is a some naïve arrogance to say that in some way I will get somewhere further in my career, acknowledged with a new job title, another shiny award, some funding or more.

I write that last paragraph with care — of course these things are important, and I will work for them. Yet, I think the difference between my old path and this new one is that I now recognise that it is trivial to become lost to chasing “the next thing”. This is unfulfilling. It is also disingenuous to myself and those around me.

The global pandemic, my friends, family and colleagues, as well as matters in my personal life — together and separately, these have encouraged me to reflect and ask “what do I want to achieve?” I think I am warming to the idea that I’d just like to leave things better than I found them.

Any legacy beyond that is for others to write, if they so choose. In this I hope that I can remember to avoid flavouring my actions to curate any legacy that I might pretend to leave. At least in writing this here, my future self can look to check itself.

Moving abroad is more discombobulating that I had imagined.

Presently I sit writing this in a melancholic mood. The world is in a bad state, my home country more so.

In this bubble, I write locked in an apartment, my freedom curtailed. Of course I’m not a prisoner to this fate, and I know it is temporary. Yet, it does provide ample opportunity to ask “did I take the right path?”

My rational brain says yes. A new adventure. Different work plans, a new life, blowing out the cobwebs. I get to leave the rut of my past existence, flourishing at work but stalling in my personal objectives.

Second guessing my choices is flavoured with a sense of loss, and collective trauma. None of these have been addressed properly given circumstances, and I am in the middle of the storm.

At the moment, there is the added loneliness of quarantine and jet lag, making me straddle the past life and the next. I recognise that this will take some time to settle. Each day I appreciate more of what I will have, and feel some improvement.

I will not pretend that moving abroad is a wholly joyful experience, even if there is excitement hiding in plain sight. My new path means I have to challenge myself. This is uncomfortable, and yet refreshing. A host of feelings flood over me at these thoughts.

It will take some time for me to wrestle with these thoughts. I suspect, much like today, I will only be able to look back in at the next major life decision and reflect with a wider appreciation of how long things take, and the impact of my choices.

I’m not going to pretend that change is easy. I am also not going to pretend that the change I am experiencing is normal, as I recognise the privilege and luck that helps me tread this new path.

Fingers crossed I tread it with the care and appreciation it deserves.

I start this adventure recognising that the old path was a beautiful one, which I respected more and more as time progressed. Even as I saw the weeds pop up, the rot set in, and more, I can appreciate that the privilege of my situation. I had the time, space and appreciation to acknowledge where we were, and where we should be. I hope I do not take that for granted.

If I do, pinch me.

Looking to the future at a time of huge personal change — it can leave you questioning choices made, and paths not taken. The paths you can take though — they can be quite exciting.

Dr Ben Britton is a Reader in Metallurgy and Microscopy at Imperial College. Very shortly, he will be joining the University of British Columbia based on Vancouver Campus which is located on the traditional, ancestral, and unceded territory of the xʷməθkʷəy̓əm (Musqueam) people.

You can also find him on twitter as @bmatb.