My First Year as a PhD Student: What They Don't Tell You About Doing a Doctorate (and Why Monster Energy Deserves an Honorary Degree)
Let me ask you something. Have you ever started something that you knew was going to be challenging, but thought, “How hard can it really be?”
Well, that was me starting my PhD.
I knew it would involve research, reading, writing and probably quite a few late nights. I had completed my Master's degree, after all. I knew what university was like. I had written a dissertation. Surely, I had a reasonable idea of what I was letting myself in for?
Oh, Charlotte. How wonderfully optimistic I was.
My first year as a PhD student is coming to an end and it has been an experience I will never forget. It has challenged me academically, emotionally and personally, while also giving me opportunities I could never have imagined when I first started. There have been moments of excitement, moments of uncertainty and moments when I have stared at my laptop wondering whether the English language has always been this complicated.
But, more importantly, it has been a year of learning what it really means to become a researcher.
So, What Exactly Is a PhD?
I think one of the biggest misconceptions about doing a PhD is that you spend three or four years researching something, write a very long document and eventually become a doctor.
Simple, right? Well, not quite.
A PhD is a journey of developing your own identity as a researcher. You are learning how to question things, how to critically engage with literature, how to make decisions about your research and how to defend those decisions when somebody inevitably asks you, “But why have you done it that way?”
And believe me, you need to have an answer.
There is something quite strange about going from being a Master's student, where you are often working towards clearly defined assignments, to being a doctoral researcher, where you are expected to develop your own research project.
Suddenly, you are the person making the decisions. Exciting? Absolutely. Terrifying? Also absolutely.
There is no handbook that tells you exactly how to do everything, although I suspect many PhD students would happily pay a considerable amount of money for one.
I’m learning to embrace the unknown
My research explores birth parents' experiences of post-adoption contact, including how different forms of contact can shape parental identity, relationships and life experiences following adoption.
This is a subject that is incredibly important to me, both academically and personally.
I want to understand experiences that have too often been overlooked and to contribute to conversations about how adoption services can better recognise and support birth parents.
But having a personal connection to your research doesn't mean the academic side suddenly becomes easy. If anything, it makes you question yourself even more.
Am I approaching this in the right way? Am I asking the right questions? How do I ensure that I am doing justice to the experiences people may share with me?
These are not questions you can simply answer in five minutes.
My first year has involved spending considerable time thinking about methodology, research ethics, positionality and how I could approach my research in a way that genuinely reflects the complexity of people's experiences.
I have learned that research is not simply about finding answers. Sometimes, it is about learning to ask better questions.
And sometimes, it is about accepting that you do not yet know the answer.
Which, for someone who likes to have a plan, can be rather uncomfortable!
The Literature Review: A Never-Ending Love Story
I need to talk about the literature review for a moment.
Because I genuinely believe that no one fully prepares you for the sheer amount of reading involved in a PhD.
You start by searching for a few relevant papers. Then you find another paper that references three more papers. Those papers reference another ten, and before you know it, you have opened approximately 47 browser tabs on a laptop that wants to go on vacation, then forgetting why you opened the original one.
Sound familiar?
My research has involved exploring the history of adoption, post-adoption contact, birth parents' experiences and the theoretical perspectives that underpin my study.
There is so much to learn and every time you think you are getting somewhere, another interesting article appears.
EndNote has become a very important part of my life. Excel has also become something of a companion; despite the love-hate relationship we have. Between the two of them, I have attempted to bring some order to what can otherwise feel like an academic version of organised chaos.
And let's not forget the joy of reading a paper, highlighting half of it and then realising you cannot remember what you have just read.
Perhaps that is just me?
The moments that make it all worthwhile
Despite the challenges, my first year has also brought some incredibly meaningful moments.
One of the biggest milestones was passing my probation and being confirmed as a doctoral candidate. I cannot fully explain what that meant to me.
It was a moment of recognising just how far I had come, particularly when I thought about the journey that had brought me to university in the first place.
I am the first woman in my family to attend university and being able to pursue doctoral research is something I am incredibly proud of.
Receiving ethics approval for my research was another significant milestone.
After spending so much time developing and refining my research, having that approval felt like a real step towards making the project happen.
It was a reminder that all those hours of reading, writing, questioning and occasionally questioning my own ability were contributing towards something tangible.
And, of course, there have been opportunities to attend workshops, engage with other postgraduate researchers and learn from people working across different disciplines.
Those experiences have reminded me that a PhD is not something you have to navigate entirely on your own.
Life don’t stop for no one
Now, here is something I think deserves far more attention.
You do not stop being a person simply because you become a doctoral researcher.
You still have relationships, responsibilities, hobbies, family commitments and all the other things that make up everyday life.
And sometimes, life has a rather inconvenient habit of happening when you have a deadline approaching.
Alongside my PhD, I have continued to navigate my personal life, care for my animals, spend time with the people I love and, more recently, marry my wonderful wife, Rosie.
We have also begun our journey towards having a baby together through IVF/IUI, which has brought its own mixture of hope, excitement and emotional uncertainty. Not to mention it brings fears, questions and a whole separate blog.
There is something quite humble about trying to balance the different parts of your life. One day you might be thinking about research methodology and the next you are navigating fertility appointments, wedding plans or the everyday realities of looking after your family.
Sometimes, you simply have to accept that your carefully organised schedule is going to need a little adjustment.
And that is okay.
I have learned that being productive does not mean being busy every single minute of the day. Sometimes, the most productive thing you can do is take a break, spend time with your loved ones, or simply allow yourself to have an evening where you do not think about your thesis.
Although, admittedly, the thesis does have a rather annoying habit of following you into the evening anyway. More recently, my dreams
Finding my confidence
Perhaps the biggest change I have noticed throughout my first year is how I see myself.
At the beginning, I was a student trying to work out what it meant to do a PhD.
Now, I am beginning to recognise myself as a researcher.
That does not mean I suddenly know everything. Far from it.
I still have questions. I still have things to learn. I still occasionally look at academic articles and wonder whether I need to petition Duolingo to add another language.
But I am becoming more comfortable with asking questions, discussing ideas and recognising that my perspective has value.
My lived experience, academic learning and professional interests all contribute to the researcher I am becoming. Learning how to bring those perspectives together thoughtfully and ethically has been one of the most important parts of this journey.
I am also learning that confidence does not necessarily mean feeling certain all the time. Sometimes, it means being willing to admit that you are still learning.
And I think that is something worth remembering.
So, would I do it all again???
If you had asked me at the beginning of my PhD whether I was prepared for everything that would come with it, I would probably have said yes.
If you asked me now, I would probably laugh.
Not because I regret it, but because I understand just how much there is to learn.
My first year has been challenging, rewarding, emotional, exciting and, at times, completely overwhelming.
It has taught me that progress is not always straightforward. That you can be proud of yourself while still recognising how much you have left to do. And that sometimes, getting through a difficult week is an achievement in itself.
Most importantly, it has reminded me why I started.
I want to contribute to research that makes a difference. I want to help bring birth parents' voices into conversations where they have too often been missing. And I want my work to contribute towards a better understanding of adoption and the experiences of everyone connected to it.
There is still a long way to go, and I suspect there will be many more cans of Monster, questionable writing days and moments of academic self-doubt along the way.
But for now, I am going to take a moment to appreciate how far I have come.
Because completing my first year of a PhD is something I am genuinely proud of.
And if there is one thing I have learned, it is this:
You do not have to have everything figured out to make progress. Sometimes, you just need to keep going, ask for help when you need it, and remember why you started in the first place.
Now, if you will excuse me, I have a literature review that is definitely not going to write itself.
Unfortunately.
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