The PhD I Promised I'd Never Do

There was a time in my life when I had one very simple rule: Never, ever PhD. To me, it felt like an unnecessary detour — a pointless walk into the woods without a map. Honestly, I’m still not sure I understand the “why” even now, or if this is the “right” move. But I’m here, and I’ve started.

For years, my life followed a predictable rhythm. I only chased what I wanted, and every job I took had to have a clear, measurable trajectory. I’ve been lucky, and I’m grateful for that. But a PhD was never on that list. Even when it became clear that my last job would be easier with one, I dug my heels in. I’m a person who likes to know where I’m going, and the idea of stepping off that train just to wander around? It terrified me.

But as I entered my thirties, something changed. The very thing I had “unwanted” started to look different. It was like a sprout poking through the soil — not quite a plant yet, but it had a shape. I started wondering what it would turn into. Would it be fruit? Flowers? Would I even like the result? I realized then that my old map didn’t cover this terrain, and that wasn’t a failure — it was just life.

That was a tough pill to swallow. I’m someone who takes their word seriously. I hate backtracking. Changing my mind felt like I was betraying the person I’d spent a decade building. But I had to learn that changing direction isn’t the same as failing. I was just holding onto a version of myself that had already outgrown its old rules.

I still don’t have all the answers, and I’ve stopped trying to find them before I even start. The uncertainty isn’t disappearing, but it’s becoming… fuel. That old resistance has turned into a kind of curiosity, a flicker of light leading toward a distant, faint lighthouse. I’m not waiting for a map anymore. I’m just going to start rowing and draw it as I go.

I’m lucky I get to do this.