How did THAT lead to THIS? On Belonging, Drift, and Finding Your Place

Why on earth am I here? This is the thought that kept running through my brain as I watched the cardiac procedure taking place. A few weeks before, I had been teaching psychology, and now here I was wearing scrubs for the first time in my life, surrounded by a ton of medical equipment and a flurry of activity. I tried my best to just stay out of the way.

This was part of my orientation as a new data scientist so that I could learn the clinical context in which I was working. As I came to understand, the day-to-day activities of the role are actually quite similar to what I did before (coding, analyzing data, writing reports), and as time went on, the new role didn't feel so jarring. However, the sudden change in environment that I experienced in the first few weeks really took some getting used to, and even now four years later I find myself questioning my sense of belonging at times.

This becomes especially apparent on the occasions when I am asked to present to the department. When most people giving similar presentations describe their background, they'll talk about the other medical areas they worked in, and how that led to their interest in their current work. I instead mention how I studied reading development in children and did research in schools, and I can just see the question marks popping into their heads. How did that lead to this?

I think this impact on belonging is one of the consequences of drift. And what I'm wondering is whether addressing it requires some updating in the stories we tell about ourselves. Perhaps a throughline isn't just about what we do and our underlying why, but also about how we want to show up in our work. For me, this looks like being someone who can bridge different worlds, who understands what it's like to approach a field from the outside. It's about finding the unique perspective I bring. And it's about discovering new things to be curious about, even when the path that brought me here wasn't the one I planned.

I suspect I'm not alone in this. Many researchers find themselves in rooms where their background doesn't fit the expected narrative: not academic enough, not clinical enough, not technical enough.

Maybe a sense of belonging isn't about fitting the expected narrative. Maybe it's something we construct by claiming the story that connects where we've been to where we are, even when that story looks nothing like anyone else's.

The Postdoc Contradiction: Building Independence While Working on Someone Else's Vision

Postdocs are told to "develop your independent research identity." But you're working on your PI's grants. Their funded projects. Their research questions. How are you supposed to build a program that fits YOU when your work is structured around someone else's vision?

This isn't a personal failing. It's a structural contradiction built into how postdoc positions work. And it's why drift happens: not through one wrong turn, but through a series of reasonable decisions that gradually pull you away from what originally drew you to research.

The Expectation versus the Reality

The expectation is clear: use your postdoc years to establish your research direction, build your CV, and prepare for the faculty job market or your next career move.

But the day-to-day reality? You're working on projects that were funded before you arrived, using methods your PI chose. You're contributing to their research vision, not building your own.

I've written before about how my own postdoc work drifted from my PhD interests. What I didn't see at the time was the pattern beneath it. I took positions based on relationships, geography, and practicality. I said yes to projects because they were funded or because my PI asked. I kept my actual interests alive through unfunded collaborations on the side. Each decision made sense in the moment, but cumulatively they pulled me in directions I hadn't intended to go.

The Pattern

This isn't unique. Postdocs get chosen for reasons that have little to do with research fit: grant funding, legacy work, mentorship opportunities, strategic positioning, or learning new skills.

Each decision is reasonable on its own. But over time, these WHYs accumulate. Genuine curiosity can shrink to 20% or less of what drives your work. Years pass, and you find yourself in a research program that looks good on paper but doesn't align with what you care about.

Mapping It Out

Recently, I mapped out what I was working on during each stage of my career, and more importantly, WHY I was doing it.

What percentage of my time was driven by genuine curiosity versus funding, strategy, or obligation? When did my own interests become secondary? What did I try to keep alive on the side?

Seeing this visually gave me perspective I didn't have before.

Want to see where your drift happened? I created a free template to help you map your research journey and identify the WHYs that shaped your path. Download the free template here. It takes about 20 minutes and might give you clarity you didn't have before.

Finding Some Agency

Understanding the pattern isn't about judgment. It's about seeing what’s been driving your decisions so you can make different choices going forward.

This also isn't about only choosing projects motivated by pure interest. It's about finding ways to work within real constraints while keeping your throughline alive.

Is there a twist you can put on a project that uses your own unique lens? Is there a method you're curious about? Is there an underlying community you're serving that taps into a value that matters to you?

Reflecting on these questions might shift how you see your work. Instead of feeling like all your time is spent on things you don't care about, you might find pieces that DO connect to your deeper motivations, even within projects assigned by your PI. It's about finding the thread that makes it feel connected and intentional.

The template shows you WHERE the drift happened. If you want to go deeper, I work with both individuals and groups:

Workshops for postdoc cohorts, junior faculty groups, and early-career researchers navigating career transitions together

Individual sessions for personalized guidance