The Glow of a New Hope: Redirecting Career Possibilities as a Scientist with Fibromyalgia

I love painting sunsets.

Aside from the fact that they are simply gorgeous, the glowing light also signifies a lot of hope for me. First, the warm colors in the light of the setting sun has a psychologically uplifting effect. And second, on a more philosophical level, sunsets signify a state of transition, where you are standing at the threshold between the old and the new. A state of liminality. The very nature of the sunset marks the end of an old, and therefore by extension, the beginning of something new! It’s a beautiful close to what once was, and invites you to think of what the future will bring.

Featured image: Twilight’s Last Glow (oil on 6X6 canvas; available)

It was about 7 years ago that I first got into academic research as a career. The field of epigenetics fascinated me: it is the study of the various modifications on our genetic material that fine-tune how the genes actually behave. If you think of the DNA code as just the lyrics to a song, then the epigenetic modifications provide the tune, so you can actually sing the song. I was enthused enough to learn more about the subject so that I joined a research lab that studies the same. Over the next 7 years in that lab, I first completed an undergraduate honors thesis, and then a Ph.D. dissertation.

A conductor wouldn’t know how to direct the opera with just the libretto (the genes), s/he would also need the accompanying musical notation (the epigenetic marks).

All that time I was on a single-lane, yellow brick road to become a tenured academic professor in Oz. I worked hard since the junior year of undergrad, often working long hours without pay, paying all the seemingly appropriate dues for a supposedly cushy future. But I was devoted to the deity called “science.” I knew the sacrifices I would have to make to reach my goal, and I was ready for it. At the time I felt like that was really what I wanted of my life. And besides, it wouldn’t matter if I did not – I was conditioned to think that that was the only road possible for me after a Ph.D.

Yellow brick road
The yellow brick road to the ivory (emerald?) tower!

So then when I was struck with fibromyalgia, about halfway through graduate school, perhaps you can imagine my state of mind when I felt my dreams had just gone up in smoke. I felt I was now trapped into this very narrow specialized field, educated beyond most jobs, with a medical roadblock in the only credible path to a bright future. In addition, it certainly did not help that my advisor, who had high hopes for me, now thought that I was a lost cause. He had no reasonable advice for me other than to “just deal with it.”

I have now spent upwards of 2 years trying to get out of the dark mindset that my professional life is ruined because I am no longer able to spend 60-80 hours per week working any ol’ time of the day. It has taken a lot of career research, reading other peoples’ experiences of life after academia, and talking to people who were more supportive of my seeking “alternative” routes, to really figure out new possible directions for myself. More than anything else, it has required me to shake off the chains I had put around my own expectations of my future. I had to do some serious soul-searching about what I truly enjoyed about my job, in order to figure out how I could continue engaging in that, in a way that is not so detrimental to my health.

Reimagine the possibilities!

The result has been a liberating feeling that I have a lot more paths to choose from than what I was initially led to believe. I just spent the last year or so considering traditional postdoctoral research appointments, along with “non-traditional” post-Ph.D. options like teaching, as well as jobs in science publishing, government, and clinical laboratories. Some of these are more directly connected with the topic of my graduate training (molecular genetics/epigenetics) than others, but I was not shy about looking into related but different fields like human genetics, environmental health, public health and policy, and forensic science. I even considered options that would require further schooling, such as genetic counseling and molecular epidemiology.

Not all has been bright and sparkly, though, as I sought out new potential directions for myself. I learned that it can be incredibly hard to budge even a tiny bit from your field of specialization, especially after a doctorate. At the same time, I also received enough positive responses to have faith that difficult though it may be, it is not totally impossible! However, it does require you to be honest with yourself about your priorities (both professionally and personally), and keep realistic expectations of your job search. It is possible to carve out a new fork in the road for yourself, but it takes time, perseverance, and a healthy dose of luck.

Despite it not being all glowy, I nonetheless feel like this period of transition after graduate school is like a sunset. It is a time to reminisce about the past as one chapter in my life comes to a close, and to contemplate what new experiences the next one will bring. Nobody knows what tomorrow holds; but for now, as I stand on this threshold, the possibilities are endless!




Each painting has a story, one that I strive to tell here. Since many of them have to do with my journey with fibromyalgia, 20% of all yearly sales income from my paintings will go to the American Fibromyalgia Syndrome Association (AFSA), who fund research into this poorly understood condition. If the paintings and/or the cause touch your heart, as they do mine, please feel free to contact me through my Facebook page for more information. Thank you for accompanying me on this journey!

In the Grand Scale of Things

The title is a bit tongue in cheek today because the little wildflowers are anything but “grand” in scale! But these tiny flower bouquets, that seem to crop up out of nowhere, add a lovely bit of color to the woods and can be such a joy to ponder. They can feel grand in essence despite their diminutive physical presence.

These little yellow flowers are abound during the spring season in a swampy wooded area I like to walk in whenever the weather isn’t oppressively hot. That isn’t very much of the year when one lives in the sub-tropics, so I really have to make the most of the time I have! That they are spring flowers should be no surprise given their bright as sun yellow color.

I find it sad how most people walk past these little beauties without a thought, only to behold the tall, defiant cypresses that grow in the same area. The latter are majestic and worthy of looking up to (and I mean literally, for these trees can be really tall), but in many ways, I prefer the delicateness of the former. The flowers just feel “happier” to me somehow.

Do you see that little fuzzy ball on the bottom right? I’ve no clue what it is but it’s so cute!

That is so much of life, isn’t it? Especially with a chronic illness. When the good days are few and far apart, we try to make the most of what we’ve got. When the big goals seem too far beyond reach, we focus on the smaller ones. We learn to find joy in the smallest of things.

It sounds like a compromise, and everyone makes some compromises in life at some point or another. But when you’re young, you face judgement from ignorant faces, who are not intimate with your trials, but who feel you have made that compromise too soon in life. You’re left to wonder if you are getting “too comfortable too early” (in my Ph.D. advisor’s words) too close to the ground.

Or is it simply that you have realized that the things that mean the most to you are exactly where you are. That true happiness really is in the smallest, the most seemingly insignificant of things. And that when we reach for the heights, it is usually only to attain something of an illusion – an illusion of power, of respectability, of security. And during that process, as we are looking up at the heights, like that of the cypresses, we miss all the joyful little wildflowers that beckon to us from down below.

In a quiet, meditative moment, it may be wise to wonder: In the grand scale of things, which one matters more?

In the last few weeks, I have gone through another round internal conflict in trying to balance the part of me that wants to reach for the heights, and the part of me that sees sense in drawing the energy from the wildflowers. I concluded that the little joys of the present outweigh the potential of illusory powers in the future. While it is true that I would find much joy in making the best use of my scientific training to benefit society, I had to admit in a moment of honesty, that I would find more joy in not feeling like absolute crap while doing it! This meant finding a line of work that may be “closer to the ground” but more in line with my priorities.

None of this is to say I still don’t have that ambitious spark which would like to see me accomplish big, important things in life. But for now, I feel like just getting through my new exercise routine, without the excess fatigue grounding me in bed for the next several days, would be accomplishment enough for me!

Gentle hugs,