Post 1 of 4 by M. Brielle Harbin, Ph.D.

Brielle Harbin, PhD, is a tenured faculty member, an award-winning educator, and the founder of Your Cooperative Colleague LLC, a consulting practice that supports purpose-driven educators through inclusive pedagogy, sustainable scholarship, and values-aligned career paths. She also leads Faculty Writing Rituals Unlocked, a transformative course for academics who seek to write with greater clarity, care, and community. To read more of her reflections on teaching, writing, and reimagining the academic path, subscribe to her Substack, Notes from a Work Friend.

Join Dr. Brielle Harbin for an online interactive workshop, “Finding Direction When Academia Feels Like It’s Falling Apart,” on May 22, at 3 PM Eastern! Sign up here. 

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Are you still deciding whether to stay or leave academia?

Me too.

That’s probably not the kind of sentence you expect at the beginning of a post about leaving academia—but here we are.

I’m starting with it because it’s the truth. My truth.

As I’ve wrestled with my decision to stay or leave, I’ve noticed a pattern in the stories we tend to hear. Most are told from one of two vantage points: the person who’s already made the leap or the one who’s chosen to stay. Both perspectives are valid and can be helpful, but neither fully speaks to what it feels like to be undecided about what should come next.

This post is for people who would describe themselves as undecided.

Those of us in what I’ve started calling “the in-between.”

The “in-between” are faculty members who are still teaching, researching, and attending department meetings but feel the urge to do something different.

You haven’t left your job. You might not have even said aloud that you’re considering it.  But you’re also not sure you want to stay long-term.

If you’re in “the in-between, ” you probably feel conflicted. Not just about the future, but about what you owe the past. You’ve worked hard, earned credibility, and built relationships with students, colleagues, and mentors who’ve invested in you.

Leaving might feel disloyal.

Staying might feel misaligned.

And naming that tension—let alone making a decision—may feel overwhelming.

This is especially true now, as DEI programs are being rolled back, faculty governance is under threat, and entire departments are disappearing without warning. Your research may also be politicized, and you may feel frustrated that your institution has chosen to remain silent or engage in anticipatory obedience.

You may find yourself second-guessing what used to feel certain. Not because you’re ungrateful or overdramatic, but because the context has changed—and so have you.

You may notice that what once felt like a calling now feels like a contract, and the work you used to do with energy and joy now takes more effort to sustain.

When I was in graduate school, I started a personal ritual I didn’t realize would stick with me for so long: I began writing myself a mission statement each year. I asked myself: Who am I? What do I stand for? And what boundaries will I need to protect that clarity this year?

Whatever I wrote down, I carried with me. I used it as a tool to filter decisions—especially when the “right” thing to do professionally felt misaligned with my personal values.

That mission statement is why I’ve chosen to stay thus far. But it’s also why I have started building a potential off-ramp. I never want to find myself in a situation that forces me to compromise my values to pay my bills.

While my decision to stay or leave began far before the current administration and changes to higher education, the last several months have reminded me of the importance of my mission statement ritual and always remembering your personal power and agency.

At this moment, reclaiming my power and my agency has meant focusing on diversifying my income streams so that I am not cornered into making desperate decisions about my life and career and compromising my values. But in full transparency, the same thought process in a few weeks or months could mean that I need to pivot entirely and that reality has brought up a lot of inner turmoil. And honestly, many therapy sessions focused on quieting the people-pleasing part of myself that sometimes finds it hard to do what is best for me if it disappoints people I respect or care about.

And that’s the messiness of the “in-between.” You’re not stuck, but you’re not settled either.

These feelings are prompting a set of questions for me that others might find worth contemplating:

• What do I want my work to stand for?
• Why is this work important to me?
• Why is it worth staying committed to—even when it’s costly or difficult?
• What am I unwilling to tolerate, even if it’s common?

This is the first in a four-part series. I decided to write multiple posts because I believe the decision to stay or leave academia deserves more consideration. It’s not just a single choice, but an ongoing process. Over the next three posts, I’ll share what I’ve learned in revisiting my own mission statement and navigating the stay-or-leave question in real time. I’m looking forward to sharing what I’ve learned with you. I hope you’ll come along—not because I have it all figured out, but because we’re all figuring out how to navigate this moment together.