My PhD Story

It was the 5th year of my PhD journey when i came to the writing class. The class was the first that i went voluntarily; others i previously attended were compulsory university courses. I didn't come for my PhD. I have lost hope and interest to finish it. Having written about 50% of the thesis, being stuck there for more than 2 years with still more to do and to learn i decided that quitting is what was best to do. But my interest of learning and writing have brought me to that class. The class that have been Allah's way to turn my heart around.

It was in that class that ive met others who were struggling in their studies. Except for a few that were outstanding, most were challenged with more hardship than me. Not that i haven't heard of anything like that before. In fact i have heard so many challenges in finishing PhD that it became justified for me to not finish mine; instead of motivating. But seeing, meeting and finally had the real idea of how some people had to struggle to do a task or to achieve what i can do quite easily made me realised how i have been blessed, and made me feel that i have been such a horrible, ungrateful, egoistic, arrogant and spoilt person.

I came home from that class with mixed feelings, but mostly of hatred towards my own self. Disgusted. I have taken so many things for granted, blaming others for my own underachievement, finding excuses that could save me from being the bad person. No one was spared in my effort to convince me that i did nothing wrong, and that not being able to submit my thesis as my fate. But that day, i was struck with a gentle blow of doubt that i have had nothing but excuses. A gentle blow, but enough to shake the entire wall of pretense i had been living. It was indeed the lowest point in my life, when i can't trust my own self to help me. I didn't know what to do. I spent hours crying for all the feelings of confusion and self loathe, terrifying my husband and daughter with the sudden and extreme show of weakness. I felt like wanting to go away and be someone else. I thought, if only i had a delete button and make myself disappear. But then again... Allah made me realise that i have something even better. We all have a restart button.

Then it began. For not trusting myself anymore, i started to open up and reach out for help. That was really, really hard. Being a proud person, (which i didn't actually realised until this stage) i had been putting on masks everytime i reported my research progress to my supervisor, telling him and everyone that i have everything under control and things were okay even when they were not. I hated to be seen as a failure, underachiever, or weak. But since i realised that i hated my own self, i thought that i shouldn't care how i look like to people anymore. So I began to take unprecedented risks of humiliating myself of asking all sorts of questions without reservation, requesting helps knowing that i may be refused of any, and braved myself to find faults in my own work. Yes. I have been too defensive of myself for my own good, and i knew i needed to change. But then i have another big problem. Even though guilt have returned my feeling of obligation to my studies, i still have so many to do and there wasn't much time left. And though i hate to admit, i was worrying what I will have to answer when people ask me how long did i take to complete my PhD. I mean come on, how am i to face people that ive been trying to impress that it took me that long? How slow or stupid will i be in their eyes? It bugged me so much I've consulted my SV, my parents, husband, friends and some other lecturers' for their opinion if it would be best for me to abandon ship, to swipe this PhD attempt under the rug and reregister for a new one. My pride was saying that I can do better and much2 quicker than this one. But amazingly, all those people have said the same thing. No one agreed with the option to quit. NO ONE. Though it seems like an endless ocean, they all pushed me to keep on swimming. And since i believe that they are the same people that i have been trying to impress anyway, i might as well do as they say.

So.. taking their words against mine, i kept my head down and i did all that i possibly can while juggling work and family at the same time. But my limit; my family will always have to come first. I would rather fail in my PhD than in my marriage, or in my relationship with my family. So I did everything humanly possible; stayed up late, reorganise awake time, harassing my SV (very severely), writing teachers, statistics lecturers, my husband and my friends. But honestly, the real struggle was actually against myself and my excuses. Oh they come so persistently and in even bigger form each time. But in the end, i did it. With the help of people around me, i finally managed to submit my thesis. It was neither in the way nor standard that i have wished it to be, but i did it. I know that this is how it was meant to be for me.

My PhD was a truly humbling journey. It dragged me down, only to show that things are more beautiful from here to see. It was a painful process to say the least. But, InsyaAllah.. it also left beautiful scars indeed.