A personal transition from academic life to something more free, more real.

The Realisation

I was at a party - coincidentally, my birthday party. For over a year, I had been thinking things over. I was going back and forth in my head, feeling stuck in the same surroundings, often unmotivated and frustrated. But quitting? That never seemed like a real option. Until that one moment when a single, quiet thought hit me:

“I can quit my job.”

It wasn’t emotional or dramatic - it was calm, obvious, and sharp. From that moment, something shifted. My mind woke up and began spinning with new possibilities. The next day, the next week, the next month - everything felt different. I started actively exploring what I wanted from life, what I enjoyed doing, and where I could go next.

A Decade in Academia

I spent ten years in science. I completed a PhD - which took nearly a year to write - and invested many more years in research, writing, collaboration, and teaching. I didn’t do it for the money. I did it because I wanted a meaningful career, something that challenged and fulfilled me. And for a long time, I believed in it. But over time, that belief began to fade. I found myself questioning the structure, the system, and whether any of it was still aligned with the person I had become.

💡 Why I Decided to Leave

There wasn’t just one reason. It was a combination of things that added up over time. But here are the ones that mattered most:

  • Low salary
    I never expected to get rich in science. But after ten years, a PhD, and a solid record of projects and collaborations, I was still earning what many people make in completely unrelated roles. At some point, it stopped making sense. I felt like I was treating my job as a serious calling, but the system treated it like a hobby.

  • Micromanagement
    I’m someone who needs freedom and responsibility to thrive. My boss wasn’t a bad person - he cared about people, understood family life, built projects. But he was involved in everything. Even when others had ideas, they were often reframed and folded into his plans. Once, on a business trip, he signed me up for activities without asking. I know he meant well. But for me, it became a symbol of something deeper - a lack of space to grow, to fail, or to own anything fully.

  • Slow advancement
    The academic system runs on patience and obedience. You wait. You follow the path. You stay “in the system.” But I’ve never believed in waiting for permission to grow. I believe in doing the work and showing what I can do. And when that drive hits a wall of slow promotions and vague timelines, frustration builds.

  • The system itself
    My job became 80 percent administration. Project reports, grant documents, endless forms. I understand the constraints of funding and accountability. But if I wanted to manage forms and workflows full-time, I would’ve gone into project management. And the publication culture didn’t help - perfect formatting, publishing behind paywalls, chasing points instead of insight. At some point, I realised: this isn’t the science I believe in.

What I’m Building Instead

That night, I made two clear decisions:

  1. I want to work remotely.
  2. I want to work for a company - probably outside my country - that pays fairly and values initiative.

That’s the new foundation I’m building. In the short term, I’m planning to start freelancing - creating Python programs, offering consultative help, solving real problems. Long term, I want to work in IT, ideally cybersecurity - something real, challenging, and rewarding. Money will give my family more freedom. Remote work will give me control over how and where I live. A week by the sea? A month in Spain? Why not. I’ll bring my work with me.

And most importantly — I don’t need someone managing me to stay responsible. I’ve always been that way. I just want to do the work on my terms. I’ve earned that.

Five Years from Now

If I had stayed, I know where I’d be in five years - same role, same salary, same ceiling. That’s not the future I want.

Instead, I hope I’ll look back at this moment and smile. I hope I’ll be grateful that I jumped, even when it was uncertain. That I stopped waiting for permission, and finally claimed my seat at the table.

Until next time, embrace the realisation.