The PhD Island
- 4 minsAbout a year ago, I wrote about the loneliness of a phd. I don’t think I knew how to really articulate what I was feeling then, but I think I can discuss how that feels now and how I am navigating it.
The PhD Island
Getting a doctoral degree is like being on a tiny island surrounded by other tiny islands. In theory, you could swim to those other tiny islands, but the waters are filled with sharks and have tons of riptides. You can see other people on those islands. Sometimes you wave at each other and share a smile, but you can’t really communicate well with them or for too long. There are times when the waters are safe to enter, but it feels like too much of a risk to try. So, you stay on your island, alone, and hope that someone will eventually build a strong enough boat to reach you or at least understand that you just can’t swim to them.
The island is the phd and the other islands could be friends, family, or peers. The sharks are the challenges that come with the program and the riptides are the deadlines and expectations. The boat represents the bandwidth or capacity to build relationships and the ability to communicate with others.
I feel so far from being able to build a boat to get to other islands, but I have a makeshift raft that I’ve been working on. However, the fear isn’t just the journey - it’s what might meet me on the other side.
Actually Being Alone
I can say with certainty that I’m alone after losing my mom. I don’t feel close to anyone emotionally or even philosophically. I don’t think that is anyone’s fault unless it’s my own. I struggle relating to others (and I already did before) in ways that I’m not sure will improve, but I’m open to feedback.
As so many of my friends graduate this Spring and Fall, I think of all the time I spent as a caregiver or without secure housing. All the riptides I was trying to swim through. That was 4 years of my PhD. Those people have only known a version of me that was easily at my worst. It feels like they don’t even know me, and I question if I ever knew them - because did I know myself then or did I have the ability to know them then?
I have no regrets other than not being able to be a better friend although I know I tried my hardest. Often, that isn’t enough, and it’s okay if relationships change or end. Admittedly, I’m still trying to accept those changes. I’m still trying to accept that the check-ins via text or social media ended from people I really care about. That invitations to get food, drinks, or just hang out disappeared. That I stopped being included in their lives and vice versa. That it’s just me every single day without anyone to talk to or spend time with.
I know it wasn’t intentional - life moves on, people change, everyone has their own riptides. Still, it’s not an easy pill to swallow, so I guess I better take a bigger sip of water.
I think my greatest disappointment or sadness (about the loss of friendships or lack of deep friendships) is rooted in the reality that sometimes you can try very hard to be authentic and vulnerable, but it doesn’t always work out. Moreover, this was a core reason I came to graduate school. I wanted to find or build community for myself, and that has not happened…yet.
Maybe I should have focused more on building a boat. Alternatively, embracing solitude may have been a necessary part of the journey.
It’s A Marathon
I could spend my time wrapped up in reliving every failure of the last 4.5 years, but I don’t think that’s helpful. I have now - this moment - to try something different or to simply not give up. Lately, I’ve been focusing a lot more on science policy and thus far I’ve been able to connect with people who are interested in that. I’m not sure if that will lead to new friendships, but I’m hopeful that continuing to chase my passions will lead me to people who are also passionate about those things.
That’s the best I can do right now - keep showing up, keep trying, and keep moving forward.
Shaurita D. Hutchins
Graduate Research Assistant