What A Difference A Year Makes

This time last year I wrote my first post. It was about how I had spent the prior four months feeling woefully out of my depth and struggling with depression. I’m pleased to say that this post will be vastly different.

I often feel as though I’m achieving very little in any given week, and in all honesty, when I started contemplating this post last week I felt as though I’d achieved very little in the last year and a half. However, I’m feeling slightly more positive today, admittedly after a truly disgusting amount of caffeine and some rather frantic procrastination cleaning.

On paper, these are my achievements of my PhD so far:

  • Very rough introduction drafted.
  • Almost complete chapter drafted.
  • RF1 passed.
  • RF2 passed.
  • Five conferences attended, two spoken at.

I had initially, naively hoped to have the intro and first chapter entirely finished and the second chapter started by now. I absolutely did not factor in the amount of time and energy that goes into teaching, even when it’s only one module a term; that’s something I’m going to need to take into account this year.

Whilst my achievements may be fewer than I would have liked, they are ultimately overshadowed by my state of mind. This time last year I felt utterly worthless and genuinely considered quitting the PhD. I felt like I had no idea what I was doing and no idea how to work it out. All of the motivational posts on pinterest couldn’t help me shake the notion that things would never get better and that I had little or nothing to offer to life, let alone academia. Luckily, that same sense of helplessness meant that I couldn’t work out a different direction to take, and so I carried on plodding along. Eventually my spider diagrams and half-digested journal articles started to click together in my brain and I gradually came up with some plans and ideas.

Although I hated them at the time, the things that pushed me through that block were the Rf1 and RF2 – hoop-jumping paperwork and presentations that make you explain and justify your project. For the RF2 I had to provide a chapter plan; at the last minute I chucked one down on paper, believing that it was just there so that I had something to say, but it stuck and gave me the structure that I needed to push on with my thesis. I could never have gotten to that point, however, without the months of reading and hopeless spider-diagramming that at the time felt utterly useless.

One of the turning points last year came in March, when I watched James Hayton’s video on surviving the PhD – which I blogged about at the time.. It gave me a new perspective on what the PhD actually is, ‘the entrance qualification to the world of professional academia‘ rather than the culmination of your academic achievements to date. It means that, of course you have no idea what you’re doing, you’ve never done anything like this before.

Another thing that helped me was attending conferences. Meeting other people who share your interests and worries, listening to people who are passionate about their work and having people get excited about yours is an invigorating experience that boosts your energy. Submitting abstracts and writing papers is also great for creating firm deadlines and helping you articulate thoughts that you might otherwise leave until later (forget).

Less tangible things that I have achieved this year are things like making amazing new friends, getting out of my comfort zone more often (attending conferences, talking to new people, talking in front of people), traveling, learning to ski, learning yoga, getting fit, getting healthy (or at least healthier). All of which have attributed to my increasing sense of wellbeing. Of course, I still have slumps, but I’m more able to deal with them. The sense of utter despair has dissipated, and when it starts to creep back in, I’m more able to knock it back.

My aims for the year ahead are to write a couple more chapters, try and get at least one paper published (publish or perish), and to travel more. I’m hoping that I get better at teaching, I think I did ok last term, but I want to do the very best by my students. Ultimately I’d like to happy, or, at the very least, moderately stable.

Scrolling Through Past Emma’s Open Tabs

You know when you go away for a while and when you come back everything feels strange in it’s familiarity? The haphazard way that you made your bed before you left. The one pair of socks that you left on their airer hanging stiffly because you forgot to buy fabric conditioner. Little piles of mess pushed to the corners of the room because you couldn’t be bothered to tidy them away when you still needed to pack, and was that really the time, and you needed to be on the road in ten minutes.

Today I opened my computer for the first time since I went away. Tabs and open windows greeted me. A half finished report, university guidelines, PDFs, a finished chapter that I was liberating quotes from. It’s been in the back of my head that I have work to do, a presentation to make, a report to edit, a chapter to start, but somehow the urgency that only seems to visit in waves has ebbed. I can’t tell if it’s an arrogance of assumption that I’ll just get it done, or if my mood is taking another dip.

While I was away I thought a lot about what it means to me to be a PhD student. I began to notice that when I introduce myself to new people I always take the time to emphasise that it’s a PhD I’m doing at uni. I use it almost like a justification – oh, I don’t have a job because I’m doing a PhD; I don’t have a house because I’m up North for a bit writing my thesis; what do I want to do with my life? Oh, well, when I finish my PhD I’ll probably go into lecturing if I can find a job, and what about you?

I’ve always based my self-worth on my academic achievements; I’ve never been pretty or handy or particularly eloquent, but I can write a bloody good essay. I tend to downplay my PhD, I say that reading is the only thing I’m good at (true), that I have no idea what else I’d do with my life (also true). So what does it mean when I base my self-worth on something that I then downplay?

I think that the reason I’ve begun to notice all of this is because of how insular and independent the PhD is. At undergrad and masters level you have a constant stream of deadlines. You write essays and get feedback. If you’re lucky, you get praise which then acts as validation. We’ve all been well lectured on the dangers of external validation, but that tends to come in the form of ‘you don’t need a partner to be happy’ and ‘you don’t need instagram likes to believe you’re pretty’. I imagine that gaining an internal sense of validation is an important part of becoming a functional adult human, I just have no idea how to go about that. Suggestions on a post-card.

Next week’s blog will definitely be about having achieved something work-wise.

Bonus post: How to get through your PhD without going insane

I watched an excellent youtube video over the weekend about how to survive your thesis, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since. How to get through your PhD without going insane by James Hayton, creator of the website ‘James Hayton PhD (formerly The Three Month Thesis) and author of PhD: An uncommon guide to research, writing and PhD life both of which I probably need to look into at some point.

It’s likely been one of the most useful things to help me adjust my conception of what a PhD really is, and how on earth I can get through it. I’ve summarised its key points here, because they’re exceptionally helpful and reading them will be quicker than watching the 50 minute talk plus Q&A – although I thoroughly recommend that you do if you have the time.

Hayton opens with his conclusion just in case people’s coffee wears off before he gets to the end: Just because a PhD is difficult and it takes hard work, it doesn’t mean that it has to be stressful or painful.

  • There’s already a lot of advice out there, but the standard advice is: make to-do lists, set targets and deadlines, write good notes, write as you go so you don’t have to do it all at the end, don’t be too perfectionist – However, whilst this is good advice, none of it actually makes it easy or stress-free, so there’s something missing.
  • You’ve got to know how the system works – a PhD is the highest academic qualification you can get, so the people that do PhDs tend to be the people that have excelled at every other level of the education system. There’s a problem with viewing the PhD as the top of the education hierarchy, because at all other levels there’s still the same basic system in place – a syllabus, set targets, the same material given to everybody, and the same exam at the end – everyone experiences the same thing and it depends on the work you put in.
  • At PhD level, the rules change. It is a fundamentally different thing, it’s not like a degree but a bit harder. There’s no syllabus, no one telling you what to do – the skills you need to succeed at PhD are not the same skills that you needed to succeed at undergrad and masters level.
  • A more accurate way to describe the PhD is as the entrance qualification to the world of professional academia. It’s designed to test whether you are capable of undertaking research at a professional level.
  • If you stop thinking about it as the top of the education system and start thinking of it as the bottom of the professional academic system then you understand that you’re a beginner of that system, and therefore there’s less pressure on you because you know that you need to learn new skills before you can succeed in the new environment. You’re not supposed to know everything already, you’re a newbie.
  • What do you need to succeed in professional academia? Publish or perish – the aim is to produce something publishable – it’s the basic level that you’re aiming for. That’s why there’s a Viva – it mirrors the peer review model – you have to be able to convince someone from outside of the value of your work.
  • What’s publishable? An original contribution to knowledge, but that’s not enough. In order to be able to convince others in your field of the value of your work, they will judge it by the standards set by your field – it’s no longer a case of competing against the others in your class, it’s competing against researchers all around the world – and it depends on the field what the standard will be – if you’re in a brand new field where everything is new, then any contribution is going to be valuable, but, if you’re in a well-established field then the standard you have to reach may need to be higher because a lot of it’s already been done. The standard is set by the field, it’s not set by your university or your supervisor.
  • You need to know your field before you can make a contribution to it – to give it context, to help you find the niche – hence, a butt load of research is needed before you can start writing.
  • Great research comes from how you deal with the unexpected – if you stick to your to-do list you might miss something important that comes along – it’s good to be flexible, but focussed.
  • Targets and deadlines are a good place to start because they give you direction – but there’s two outcomes, you can succeed or you can fail – what do you do when you fail? Set new deadlines? Or fire up your curiosity about why you’ve failed? If your sole focus on the outcome, then that limits where you can have an effect– the problem directly in front of you is the only thing that you can solve. You can’t stick to a rigid plan, there’s always going to be something that happens that disrupts you. The defining factor for success is not how well you plan, it’s what you do when things aren’t going to plan.
  • A PhD is not intrinsically stressful. It’s not the situation that’s stressful by nature, it’s your reaction to it. You have the power to change that reaction – you don’t just have to accept stress – see it as a signal that something isn’t right. Your capacity for concentration of conscious effort is limited. When you need to work at your full mental capacity the slightest distraction can drastically reduce your ability.
  • External motivation – if they’re struggling people tend to add some other form of motivation – but this only adds to what you’re thinking about and therefore reduces the capacity to deal with the main problem – “I’ll give you a million pounds if…” – then you’re thinking about what you need to do, you’re thinking about the money, and you’re worried about the consequences if you mess it up (you won’t get the money, and you won’t have achieved the thing). If you’re worried about the final outcome of your PhD that’s going to occupy some of your conscious thought and it leaves you less to apply to the actual work.
  • A PhD isn’t one single difficult task, it’s multiple tasks added together. If you’re worrying about the endgame, if you’re concerned about failing your PhD, that’s going to take up some of your conscious thought and it leaves you less to apply to the actual work. If you have twenty tasks that you know you need to do, and you start getting stressed and think that you’re going to fail your PhD and if that happens then your future is over [we’ve all had that thought], that will take up your mental reserve. Added to that, the lack of time, having to do everything right and everything now, will leave you with divided attention and reduced ability and you’ll be in a situation where even the easy things become difficult – then you start thinking ‘why can’t I do this? I’m not good enough’ and it starts a vicious cycle.
  • What most people think is that they just have to work harder – if I’m not succeeding then I need to put in more hours. But that leaves you tired and your ability decreases. There’s a difference between putting in all of the hours you can and wholly engaging with something to your full capacity – which you can only do if you let go of the fear. So what you actually need to do is slow down – which is hard, but effective – you need to take time to think. As an academic, your ability to think is the most important thing you have, so you need to give yourself the time, energy and space to do so.
  • The PhD ingredients for stress: high difficulty, divided attention (several tasks at once), and the consequences (no one wants to fail).
  • How to attack these: Difficulty – reduce the scale of the task, break it down into steps – you might not know the entire solution but you can see if you solve one small thing and move another step closer. Divided attention – prioritise and focus on one thing at a time. Consequences – understand that failing might not be the worst thing that can happen, you’ll survive – relax and apply yourself to the work.
  • Some stress is useful. The only way to improve ability is to push slightly beyond your ability – do this consistently, and gradually your skill level will improve [Like the plank challenge].
  • Writing = content, structure, words.
  • A lot of people focus on the words, setting daily word counts – but if you focus on the words, then the danger is you’ll neglect the content. If your research is good, then you can edit the words later.
  • Your voice – you thesis is your expression of the way you think about your research and the way you think about yourself in relation to your work.
  • At previous levels, the purpose of your writing was to impress the teacher – offering it up to the expert to gain approval. If you think of yourself as a professional academic, you’re not offering your work up, it’s a more equal relationship – peer review. You’re not writing for the approval of the supervisor – you don’t need to focus on impressing them, you need to focus on the quality of the work and not trying to prove how much you’ve read.
  • You have to write as an academic to other academics. You are the authority in your own work. Your aim is to impart something useful.
  • Write your defence into your thesis – they’ll be looking for weaknesses, your defence starts in your writing. If you know there’s a weakness in your work, don’t ignore it, acknowledge them – it may be argued that… however, because of these reasons… is why I’m doing it this way. Shows that you’ve had a critical level of thought.
  • Hayton got to a point where he decided he was going to quit, but thought he’d just do this one last experiment just for the hell of it – he stopped caring about if he’d fail because he was going to quit anyway, but then without the stress and pressure of potential failure, he got into it. You might not be the very best in your field, but you’re the best in your tiny bit of knowledge and you decide what content you put in your thesis and that’s the only stuff yo need to defend.
  • In conclusion: Just because a PhD is hard and it takes hard work, that doesn’t mean that it should be stressful or painful – you should see stress as a signal that something is not right and you should do something about it.
  • Success or failure in a PhD is not a measure of who you are, it’s not a measure of your value in life. If you fail your PhD, it’s not the worst thing that can happen – tell yourself, whatever the outcome of the PhD, success or failure, I will deal with it, I trust in my own ability that I will be ok, but right now I’m just going to focus on doing this one thing and I’m going to do it to the best of my ability.

Q&A

  • People try and set themselves really strict timetables, but then if you get up late, you’re already behind, you’ve already failed – don’t set everything in stone, but try and have a general consistent routine. Start the day with something simple that you can succeed at, get it done and then dive in to the more complicated things. At the end of the day have a close-down ritual, create space between yourself and work – tidy up your desk, write down thoughts, plan for next day with a couple of easy things to start off with.
  • Rather than focussing on word count, focus on the idea you’re trying to communicate, then look up references and then concentrate on the words afterwards.
  • Any time management technique will work for three days, but then old habits sneak back in – you need to work out the foundations of where you’re going wrong, or what best works for you.
  • If you’ve gone through the education system with the teacher telling you you’re good because you’ve got good marks then that validation becomes a part of your self-worth. But it’s completely different at PhD and that creates a deep anxiety that isn’t normally addressed or acknowledged. You need to think about the way you feel about the work, and concentrate on that.
  • Not everything you try has to go into your thesis, and you need the confidence to try things not knowing how they’re going to work out and that your sense of well-being doesn’t rely on those immediate results.
  • You need to acknowledge if you’re struggling. Think about what you can and will do if you fail, and then take small steps to avoid it.
  • It’s not about adding motivation, it’s about removing the blocks that are there. The PhD is motivation enough. If the fear of failure is a block, then work out what’s the worst that can happen?
  • Effort vs. engagement. You can put as much time and effort in to something, but it won’t help if you’re not letting yourself engage fully because you’re being held back by fear or stress.

I think the very main point that struck me from this talk was the idea that the PhD isn’t the top qualification, it’s the entry test. Of course you’re out of your depth, you’re only just starting out! You still need arm bands before you can swim in the Olympics.

I hope this comes in as handy for you as it did for me. I really would recommend watching the video, he uses lots of scenarios and metaphors to better illustrate his points, but realistically I couldn’t be arsed to type an entire transcript with them all in.

The genius to moron spiral

You know what it’s like, you have a flash of inspiration when you’re reading something. You start manically writing out bullet points convinced that you’ve cracked your thesis. And then something happens to burst your joyous research-junkie bubble. It might be moments, hours or days after that initial elation, but something will happen and you’ll be convinced that you have no idea what you’re doing and that you have absolutely no place doing a PhD and what were you thinking?! I’m a moron, why am I even here?

That’s a pretty good summary of my week. I started on Sunday fully in the swing of the research I was doing, planning on writing my 1000 words for the week on that topic by today. I was feeling pretty confident that I could beast my target, maybe even say something smart. I put in some decent hours on Sunday and Monday because I was attending a set of presentations hosted by creative PhD students on the Tuesday. A friend of mine was presenting and her topic is awesome so I went along in support. The day raised some really interesting questions, the most applicable of which for my literature thesis was: how do you balance primary reading and secondary research? Do you attack one and then the other, and if so, in what order? Or do you mix and match, flitting between the two? How do you separate your time? I’ve been concentrating on the theory side of things so far, but I’m beginning to think that I need to get back to reading some primary texts to help reinvigorate my focus.

After the presentations on Tuesday, my friend and I popped to the pub to celebrate how well she did and I finally got around to checking my emails. I failed a piece of work and I need to resubmit it. UGH. It’s not a huge deal, it’s just some official paperwork that we have to hand in to show that we’re actually doing something. To be honest, I knew it was a bit rubbish when I handed it in last term, but I just really thought I’d get away with it. Most of their comments were fair, and about stuff I was already aware of – my project needed more focus, I needed to be more explicit about my research questions. These are things that I’ve been organising over the past couple of weeks, like the thesis plan I’ve mentioned here before. So that’s easy enough to fix and resubmit. But it shook my confidence. They weren’t convinced that my project would work as it stood, which made me question if it would work at all. What if I’m wasting everyone’s time? On top of that, I’ve never met the staff who reviewed the form, and their first impression of me is based on some nonsense I wrote when I was in the midst of depression and completely unable to concentrate. Great.

Luckily I already had a meeting with both of my supervisors organised for the next day to discuss the plan I’d sent. The first thing they did was talk me off the ledge and explain that paperwork, by it’s very nature, is always a couple of months behind where your current brain is at any one time. One of my supervisors spoke of when she got her first form back covered in scrawls, and she’s pretty much one of the smartest people I know, so that gave me hope. My director of studies said that mine is one of the most exciting projects he’s worked on for ages, which is encouraging, but simultaneously terrifying. They’re expecting great things. I want to live up to that and not embarrass them or myself.

So instead of writing my 1000 words on the topic I was working on at the beginning of the week, I’m instead rewriting a form I’d thought I was rid of weeks ago. I’m choosing to see this as a positive thing. It’s giving me a chance to really formulate my plan, it’s highlighted the things that outsiders don’t understand about my project and therefore informed me of how I need to better articulate myself in those areas.

This week’s word count: 887 (but I’m still going).