Many of the posts in this weblog are about feeling stifled, imprisoned, and hemmed in by my professor job. The e-mailed question why did you remain, or have you remained imprisoned for so long? is a fair one.
Side note on the source of this question: I must say I am fatigued by people with B.A.’s and M.A.’s who now, as self styled social workers, ask this question as though they, brilliant people that they imagine themselves to be, had invented it and I, a retarded being, could never have thought of it before. Still, the question itself is fair in its way, and I will answer it.
There are actually many answers, and I have only space and time to list a few. Here are the most important:
a. Because of the idea that everyone was imprisoned, and only I was not used to it. I am still imprisoned, and still not used to it, although I have developed a great deal of inner freedom the way prisoners do and I have resigned myself to not having a broader life, the way prisoners do. The fact is, though, that not everyone is imprisoned and it is not required. I had, and lost, an argument with several authorities about that, and in retrospect I know that despite not having defended my side well enough, I was right.
b. Because of the idea that one could eventually place oneself well if one tried hard enough and were flexible enough, and waited a long time. NOTE, though, that as even I knew back then, this is only true for the first few years. I had, and lost, an argument with several friends when I was truly going to quit — my time to get a job in which I would be happy was over, I said, so it was time to go. They vigorously told me I was wrong and reactivated my nostalgia. But I was right. So, young persons, do not do as I did; believe whatever it is you know to be true.
c. Because of transition money. I never came up with enough cash, or a good enough plan (only one of these two elements is required). I am not sure whether this means I was not desperate enough, or not confident enough, or not competent enough; or whether I was not sure enough of what I wanted, or did not have enough support from others; or whether having other money would have in itself eased the impression that I was enslaved.
d. Because I am in fact very well suited to academia. Note, however, that this is NOT a sufficient reason to stay in it, and may in fact be a reason NOT to stay in unsatisfactory academic situations. Pay attention to what I am saying here, since it has taken me years of thought and empirical testing to come to this conclusion.
e. Because of my general tendency to be in abusive relationships, which impede movement.
So, those are some reasons why. The most important one, though, is (d); I have wanted a high level scholarly research job since I was three, and I did in fact treat college and graduate school as one, and they added up to 13 years, so I did in fact hold for 13 years the position I had always wanted, so I am in at least a minimal way satisfied.
I still think I was right, though, to want to move on when I realized that I would not have such a good situation again after the Ph.D. My idea was to continue to up through life but I bowed to the arguments of others that people could only do one thing in life, and that life ended at 30 anyway, and that only resignation could follow.
The strongest answer is nevertheless (d). So now, random e-mailer, you know.
Axé.
coldhearted scientist وداد 
Also because it was what my mother wanted, and my main goal in life has always been not to cause her further pain. That’s actually a really bad and disabling reason, insulting to the profession and to me if one thinks about it. I should eradicate all remnants of it from myself.
AHA. And the main diabolical move that was originally put on me was that I had caused my mother pain and should dedicate myself to both alleviating it and proving I was somehow worth it in her eyes. That, as we know, is why I have been ranting and raving about certain individuals for a few days, and I should really just renounce the implantation of this ideologeme. Spit it out. I will.
If I’ve understood what you’ve been saying all along about Reeducation, academia fosters this kind of imprisonment of thought and feeling, and it can even cause the feeling of imprisonment, but it’s up to the mind (through reeducation) to free itself from the prison of others’ expectations. This isn’t to say that another job might not be better, but that the job itself is a contributing but not an absolute factor.
Correct – the job is not an absolute factor.
This post is actually from a year ago (I don’t publish posts in real time).
From the point of view of being on sabbatical – no abusive workplace to go to – it’s utterly clear why I became an academic, namely, for all the right reasons.
Reeducation was: commercialized psychotherapy plus Al-Anon, and it was very anti intellectual, and it claimed my choice of research field was evidence of serious mental illness, and it was so terrifying to even countenance the destructiveness of contemplating that possibility (the treatment: really scary therapies and drugs, hypnosis to recover “memories,” awful stuff they wanted) that I decided it was safer to come up with a million reasons why to leave academia. That way I could kill my symptom and not have to go through with the treatment. I really convinced myself I was in the wrong field and so on, but actually it was all to avoid the further horror Reeducation wanted me to step into.
Less traumatic workplaces would have made this all easier to figure out, but really I spent a lot of time hiding from academia so as not to have to go further in Reeducation.
This does not make a great deal of sense, I realize – it’s very convoluted – that’s why I have this whole convoluted blog to untangle it. 😉
I think 2 main things.
1. I would not have gotten caught by Reeducation if I weren’t also in a destructive work situation.
2. Even so, I would have dealt much better with Reeducation had I had a more formal background in Christianity. Then I would have either:
a. had a more pronounced Christian character structure, and been able to use Reeducation better than I knew how, or
b. have heard Reeducation’s narrative and contradictions before, and recognized them for what they were.
I think an additional thing:
3. Had I actually met, before Reeducation, the kind of person to whom it was directed, then I might have understood better what R. was talking about and realized what assumptions it was making. (Although R. claims universality — perhaps I would still have been bamboozled, I am not sure.)