Officially, I left academic science in 2016; but in my heart, I left several years earlier.

I stayed around, torturing myself with expectations I didn't agree with in what became a horrible environment, because, on the face of it, I had it good. Even before a cost-of-living crisis, a pandemic and (just) before Brexit, the university provided a bubble ¨C relative security, especially as I had a young family.

But if you¡¯re reading this, you know the stats. You might wonder, as I did, if the academics who were leaving were happier.?Would I be? I had a plan: to help people like I had been ¨C too busy to think, too proud to question, but certainly unhappy with how things were. I didn¡¯t want anyone else to take three years to make a change.

So here are a few thoughts, not with the haste of someone diving out of a laboratory window, but considered reflections after a few years away. They¡¯re stories, not stats ¨C bits of my own, and those of academics I¡¯ve worked with, intended as a glimpse at how we navigated the crossroads.

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Don¡¯t be put off by a leap of faith ¨C it can start with a step

When I first thought about leaving, I read a self-help book?that invited a?¡°laser focus¡± on the big leap out of academia. But as a new dad, I was lucky if I could focus on the toast I was buttering. More than that: with dependants, I couldn¡¯t afford bold decisions.

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After months of sleepless nights, from a powerful mix of anxiety and newborn lungs, my wife suggested a side hustle ¨C tutoring. That simple decision, to teach a bit of biology while still at the university, gave me so much: confidence in meeting ¡°civilians¡±, independent cash, experiences that weren¡¯t tied to a lab bench.?Alongside?coaching, I'm an and I love it. My clients found their own sense of perspective in other ways ¨C joining a running club, taking a ¡°job for now¡±, planting a foot outside of academia.

Later they might decide on a multimillion-pound biotech startup. But they took a step. Laser focus can wait.

Recognise and value your experience

Like The Karate Kid¡¯s Daniel LaRusso finding he can suddenly block punches after sanding floors in the summer holidays, a PhD reveals skills that are already there. In fact, academia uniquely rewards and prepares for self-propulsion. The caveat of course is that some academics are rewarded for being excellent scientists (which they are supremely qualified for) with the opportunity to be managers (which, sometimes, they aren¡¯t).

Again, finding common ground with my clients, and maybe you too, our PhDs give us patience, motivation, determination and resilience ¨C qualities,?values, perhaps cliches? ¨C?which come in very handy at crossroads. But there¡¯s also anger ¨C the festering kind that, harnessed in the right way, acts like rocket fuel, whether you want to move upwards, sideways or as far away from academia as possible.

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Embrace what makes you you

There¡¯s a lot of scepticism around life coaching ¨C academics generally don¡¯t like wishy-washy-ness or being told what to do. Some probably expect sarongs and towers made of beach pebbles. I¡¯m afraid the reality can be far more uncomfortable. It¡¯s about helping you to answer two questions: ¡°who are you?¡± and ¡°what do you (really) want?¡±

Asking ¡°who am I?¡± is easily dismissed as navel-gazing, yet it¡¯s at the core of your CV, your fellowship application or your business plan. Exploring your values and what makes you unique takes time, especially if you¡¯ve spent a career carrying a university¡¯s values with you.

I find a lot of my academic clients¡¯ values overlap ¨C curiosity or challenge are common motivators, but others are more surprising (for them and me):?family, power, kudos, teamwork, problem-solving, solitude¡­A university is a collection of individuals, after all.

Question what you want

The ladder up the ivory tower keeps hitting ceilings. Often there¡¯s fierce competition for the next rung ¨C the numbers are truly terrifying. With no judgement, some clients realised this was exactly what they wanted ¨C it was in line with their values ¨C and sacrificed family time or mental and physical health in the fight for a tenure track position or head of department role. Others realised, often emotionally, that their priorities lay elsewhere. Many clients found courage in a bad experience ¨C to be a better scientist, group leader or head of department than their current boss. Of course, clarity will not get you a position on its own, but for many it¡¯s what they need at a crossroads. (And, it turns out, what many employers crave in interviews.) In 2013, I would have given anything for a clear path. Looking back, it seems so simple.

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Will I be happier?

There are aspects of academic life I miss ¨C the view from seven years on is rose-tinted. Every ¡°heated debate¡± is balanced by colleagues who became friends or the occasional exciting result. Sure, it might be cathartic to moan about what tipped you into making a change ¨C perhaps you¡¯re sick of your ideas being stolen, or the brazen ¡°characters¡± one finds in science. But the anger fades. On the day I left there were no fanfares, no bridges burned. I just walked out.

And the further away that day gets, the more the focus shifts from leaving to arriving. It needn¡¯t be a different career. It needn¡¯t be a different building! But making any change gives you autonomy. I wouldn¡¯t be here without having been there. And for me, and maybe you, it¡¯s a much a happier place.

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John Ankers has a PhD in cell biology and systems biology. He is a writer, and