Tag: PHD STUDENT

Academia Isn’t Dangerous, So Why Does It Feel Like This? by Chris Rhyss Edwards

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This may cut against the grain, but after three decades in the public and private sectors, returning to academia for a PhD feels less like leaving the real world and more like a reckoning, and, unexpectedly, like coming home.

I want to start there, because it matters. Having recently completed my first year, I recognise I’m still very early in the journey. Still finding my feet, at times firing on all cylinders, other times fumbling along, asking inane questions (much to the vexation of my esteemed supervisors) as I continue to learn how this world works. Yet despite the unrelenting pile of papers to parse, the intellectual gymnastics, and the imposter syndrome diatribe murmuring in the background, I’m grateful to be here because it’s the ideal environment for someone who’s constantly curious and ambitious.

Still, at the same time, I’ve become gradually aware of something else: a familiar tension in my body. A low-level alertness. A sense of bracing for ‘something’, not from looming lectures or supervision meetings, but for something primal from earlier chapters of my life. And that’s surprised me.

Over a 35-year career, I’ve moved through several very different worlds. I began in the military, spent two decades in corporate environments such as Telstra, News Corp, and Clemenger, went on to build and run startups, and now find myself back in a university setting as an ingénue PhD researcher. Each transition demanded adjustment. Each carried its own pressures.

But this time around is different in an unexpected way.

Not because academia is necessarily “harder” than previous environments, it is and isn’t. What has caught me off guard is how subtly it recreated some of the same internal stress patterns I associate with previous high-pressure work, yet without the obvious markers that usually tell you when you’re under ‘under the gun’, so to speak. Stress does not need to be loud, visible, or dangerous to be real.

There are no warning sirens here. No clear moment when you’re told to stand down.

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Challenging the Culture of Silence: My Research Taught Me to Speak in My Own Voice by Shinasa Shahid

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I’m Shinasa, a South Asian PhD researcher studying addiction recovery, culture, and stigma among ethnic-minority women in the UK. My work sits at the intersection of addiction, identity, gender, and community. I care about emotional wellbeing and social justice and empowering people to share their stories.

When I started my PhD, I thought the hardest part would be the writing. But the real challenge was carrying other people’s pain while trying to hold on to my own sense of self. My research explores the recovery journeys of South Asian and African Caribbean women who live in communities where silence is survival, where honour decides a woman’s fate, and where addiction is denied, hidden, or punished.

I didn’t expect their stories to crack me open. I didn’t expect them to heal me. Nor did I expect them to teach me how to speak again. And yet, here I am using my voice. I am writing this to reflect on what happens to researchers when we sit with trauma, silence, and responsibility, and how our own wellbeing is shaped along the way.

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Turning the Bones: Navigating Grief Whilst Completing a PhD by Chris Wainwright

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It is said that elephants have a unique way of honouring their ancestors. Every year, they revisit ancient burial sites which hold their deceased kin. Cautiously, they approach the graves of their relatives. They pause. Then, to an onlooker, they engage in what appears to be an act of desperation. Carefully touching and examining the bones and tusks of their ancestors, they take a few moments to solemnly reflect. In turn, new herds then approach the carcasses and perform their own ritualistic memorial.

To those who have experienced grief, however, this is no act of hopelessness. It gives the pain, spiralling thoughts, and memories meaning. Those who know this pain understand that grief has no time limit. No fixed point of closure. But these moments of reflection, turning the bones, gives us the strength that we need to move forward. 

When my counsellor first told me this story, I don’t think that I truly understood it. It took time to understand how to “turn the bones” and honour the passing of my own father figure. In the past, when I’d faced challenges, I would find a way to distract myself, release emotion, or ruminate my way out of problems. But the passing of the only father I’d ever known presented new challenges, all of which attacked my nervous system, my spirituality, and my mental health in ways which I couldn’t curtail. Both the lead up to his passing, and several months after, were physically, emotionally and cognitively draining. Those issues were compounded by being on the other side of the world, and only six months into a PhD. 

However, two years later, I find myself writing this blog in a different headspace. I’m on a plane, returning to Australia after spending Christmas back in the UK, with only a few months of my PhD remaining. Although it’s only the second time I’ve returned home since his passing, I can finally say that I’m ready to “turn the bones” and share my story in this blog. Here, I hope to empathise with others who know the pain of losing a loved one, discuss the unique challenges that academia presents while grieving, and share my insights about how we can support others to make life feel a little easier. 

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My Journey Becoming a Disabled Student and Scholar by Julia Robertson

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When I commenced studying at university, I did not yet have the language to call myself “disabled scholar.” I just knew that my life had been split into “before” and “after” a brain tumour, and that I was trying to rebuild a future for myself and my family in a body and brain that no longer worked the way they used to. As a mother of four, a brain tumour survivor, and now a student, I carried competing identities into every classroom and hospital waiting room. Higher education became less a straightforward path to a qualification and more an ongoing experiment in how to learn, parent, heal, and advocate simultaneously.

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Navigating the Labyrinth: On Chronic Illness, Graduate School, and Finding Wholeness by Laura Dickey

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Working towards your PhD while grappling with chronic mental and physical health conditions… well, sucks. Graduate school is often depicted as a training ground for intellectual growth, a hallmark of academic rigor providing access to a playground of ivory towers. For many, it’s a demanding but ultimately rewarding journey. However, for those of us navigating graduate school while grappling with chronic health conditions, the experience can be a labyrinth of unexpectedly demanding challenges. 

My own journey as a PhD student in Philosophy has been profoundly shaped by my experiences with Bipolar Type II Disorder and chronic pain. While graduate school has tested my resilience, it has also given me a new perspective on community, self-worth and the journey of coping in the face of adversity. This post explores how these experiences have influenced my academic development, pushing me to redefine success in my own terms. Ultimately, I hope to share a lesson that has been critical to my journey: authentic participation in community can create profound feelings of wholeness and belonging, providing an anchor for stability amidst the demands of academic life.

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Persisting and Prevailing: Part-time PhD Study Through a Pandemic by Anonymous

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Before the Covid-19 pandemic, I went straight from redundancy and burnout to a full-time research masters, then embarked on a full-time PhD. I was regularly commuting between cities to have separate, quiet study space and returning home as my place of rest, as I’m neurodivergent and need the structure of separating studying and home life. 

Nevertheless, the burnout was lurking and around a year into the PhD, I decided I needed to go part-time. I scoured the funder and university policies, then referred to the sections on part-time study to help make my case. One supervisor questioned if I wanted to continue with the PhD. Without hesitation, I responded emphatically “yes”. Finding something difficult is not the same as not wanting or being unable to do it, and the easiest way is not always the best way. I had secured this opportunity to research the only topic I would have pursued, and I was not prepared to let it go.

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Navigating Anxiety in an Experimental Lab: Personal Growth and Peer Support by Janaky Sunil

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When people think of someone pursuing a PhD, they often focus on the prestige and intellectual fulfilment associated with earning the degree. For the students themselves, however, the journey is frequently remembered as a continuous obstacle course, with many never reaching the end. Statistics underscore this reality, with studies suggesting that 33% to 70% of PhD students ultimately leave before completing their program. A recent paper in Frontiers of Psychology enlists the various factors that contribute to these outcomes, leading to notable differences across institutions and countries. The academic culture in the nation of study and more specifically the institution plays a significant role in determining the work environment. Additionally, the quality of mentorship, the complexity of the research project, and the stability of funding are all pivotal. Combined, these factors result in the fact that even for those who do complete their PhD, the process often takes much longer than anticipated.

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Completing a doctorate after the onset of a chronic illness: Finding a new way of being by Stacey Anwin

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TW: Domestic Abuse

A long time ago (nine years, in fact), I was strong, energetic and capable. I was always active. 

Five days a week I taught at a nearby university. Three times a week, I scaled walls at an indoor climbing gym. Twice a day, I walked my three large dogs. On the weekends, I repaired the house and maintained the yard, going to performances at the Cultural Centre at night. 

Like many casual academics, my work was tenuous, based on semester-long contracts. Like many others, I found immense joy in guiding and supporting my students. I poured enormous amounts of intellectual and creative energy into designing and producing teaching and learning materials. I saw many casuals move away into often unrelated full-time positions over the years. Yet I stayed, justifying this decision as much to myself as to others, based on the amount of holidays (that is, weeks without pay) I got. 

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Returning to Your PhD studies Following a Bereavement by Hema Chaplin

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TW: Death and family bereavement

My father was diagnosed with Stage 4 bowel cancer, just as I was completing my Health Psychology Masters, and just before I found out I had been successful in being awarded PhD funding. It is well known that doing a PhD can be challenging for mental health, but this diagnosis meant that things were going to be even harder for me. For the next five years, I experienced a mix of extremely stressful life experiences at the same time: undertaking a PhD, being a caregiver for Dad, his death, and the grief that followed. 

I hope that by sharing the good and the bad parts of my experience in this blog, including suggestions about how to make the process easier, it might help others get through the process of returning to their PhD and experience the joy that this finally brings. 

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Doing a PhD with OCD by Isabelle Berrow 

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Write a sentence. Delete it. Write a sentence. Delete it. Why isn’t it good enough? What am I missing? Maybe I need a break – go downstairs, get a drink. Turn the light off, check the door’s locked. Check it again. Sit down to try and write again, delete it. Try again. 

The constant cycle that occupied my mind, every second of every day. 

I have had Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) my whole life, even if I refused to admit it. I had to have two of all my stationery, had to always check I locked the door twice, had to submit my academic work at an even time. I can trace habits and routines from my OCD into every aspect of my life since I was a little girl. 

I put an enormous amount of pressure on myself to hide and ignore my compulsive routines, especially when I went into higher education, naively thinking and praying that one day my OCD would go away on its own. 

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