From Scientist to Writer (and Amateur Violinist) My Personal Pivot Story
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I had achieved a dream I’d built my life around—and yet I couldn’t even recognize it as success.
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If you’d told me five years ago that I’d trade my lab coat for a notebook and a violin bow, I would’ve laughed.
Science was my everything. It shaped how I saw the world — through patterns, logic, data, and evidence. But after years of chasing results, papers, and milestones, I found myself craving something different. Something human.
The Pause Before the Pivot
My PhD taught me about microbial resilience — how ecosystems recover after stress.
What I didn’t realize at the time was that I’d eventually need to apply that same principle to myself.
After years of burnout, overwork, and the endless chase of professional validation, I hit a wall.
The pause wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t planned. It was forced — a full stop where everything I thought I knew about success came undone.
In that stillness, I discovered something strange: I didn’t miss the hustle. I missed creating.
Rediscovering Curiosity
For so long, my creativity had only existed within the confines of academia — designing experiments, building arguments, writing manuscripts.
But one afternoon, sitting in my office surrounded by empty coffee cups and regulatory files, I realized that what I truly loved wasn’t just science itself — it was storytelling.
I loved explaining complex systems in ways people could understand. I loved connecting the invisible dots. I loved finding beauty in the details.
That realization cracked something open.
I started writing — not research papers, but reflections. Essays. Stories.
What began as journaling for clarity became a quiet rebellion: a way to rediscover joy, purpose, and meaning outside of measurable outcomes.
And then came the violin.
The Violin (and What it Taught Me About Grace)
I’d never played an instrument before, but something about the violin called to me — maybe because it required patience, imperfection, and presence.
In science, precision was everything. But with the violin, I learned that progress is rarely linear.
Some days, my bow squeaks. Some days, I hit the wrong note.
But every time I pick it up, I’m reminded that learning can be gentle — and that it’s okay to start again, no matter how many times you’ve reinvented yourself.
That lesson has shaped everything since: my writing, my work, and my understanding of resilience.
The Pivot in Practice
Today, I still work in science — just differently.
By day, I’m a scientist in global biotech, studying systems of resilience in a biological sense.
By night (and early morning), I write about human resilience — what it means to pause, pivot, and pursue a life that feels sustainable, meaningful, and alive.
Writing became my bridge between the analytical and the emotional.
Between structure and surrender.
Between who I was and who I’m becoming.
And somewhere between paragraphs and practice sessions, I realized:
I didn’t leave science. I expanded what it could mean.
The Becoming
If there’s one truth I’ve learned, it’s that pivots don’t erase your past — they honor it.
Every skill I honed in the lab now helps me in writing: precision, observation, curiosity, experimentation.
And every word I write helps me reconnect to something science alone could never give me: stillness, softness, and story.
So maybe this isn’t a reinvention.
Maybe it’s just remembering who I was before I believed I had to earn my worth.
A Note to You
If you’re standing at your own crossroads — torn between who you were and who you might become — I hope this reminds you:
You don’t have to have it all figured out.
You just have to be curious enough to begin.
Your pivot doesn’t need to make sense to anyone else.
It only needs to feel like freedom to you.
If you’re ready to explore your own pivot story — to reconnect with your identity and redefine resilience in your life — I created something to help you start.
👉 Download the Resilience Reframe Workbook — a free guided reflection to help you pause, rediscover your direction, and embrace your next chapter with confidence and clarity.
Because the greatest reinvention isn’t about becoming someone new.
It’s about coming home to yourself.
Hey There, I’m
Madison
full-time scientist, average writer, and founder of resilienSHE.
Around here, I share honest conversations, tools, and reflections for women who want to achieve boldly and rest essentially – redefining resilience on our own terms.
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