My PhD Journey - Roshni

I knew I wanted to do a PhD ever since I was young. But when the time finally came, my topic for the practice-based research project was niche and didn’t quite fit neatly into traditional funding categories. Despite applying to a few places and trying for scholarships, I faced several rejections. It was disheartening at first. I questioned if the project I was passionate about was worth pursuing without external backing. But after some difficult conversations and deep reflection, I chose to move forward with the support of my family, who were willing to help fund my studies. 

Self-funding a PhD is not a decision to take lightly. It can be financially and emotionally challenging. I often felt pressure, not just to succeed, but to justify the investment. There were moments of guilt, anxiety, and comparison, especially when surrounded by peers who had secured studentships or grants. I want to be honest about this: it’s hard. But it is also possible, if you’re doing it for the right reasons. 

Handling Rejection

Rejection is a normal part of academia, but it doesn’t get talked about enough. Whether it’s a funding application, a publication, or a conference proposal, the word “no” can sting. Over time, I learned not to see rejection as a sign that I wasn’t good enough. Instead, I began to view it as a nudge to take ownership of my journey, even if it looked different from others. 

What kept me going was my belief in the project. I wanted to explore what home means for diasporic communities through creative writing, and I knew that this kind of research mattered even if it didn’t fit traditional models. My supervisors encouraged me to keep trying for funding in the second or third year, but those opportunities were limited. Instead, I focused on applying for smaller pots of support such as conference bursaries, research grants, and part-time teaching roles which helped lighten the financial load. 

Self-funding a PhD

If you’re considering self-funding, here’s my advice: don’t do it unless you truly believe in your project and have a realistic plan in place. Talk openly with your potential supervisors about your financial situation. Ask about available support, part-time work opportunities, and travel funding. Build a network early: whether it’s through academic societies, online forums, or your cohort. Self-funding can feel isolating, but you’re not alone. 

I also recommend setting boundaries and being clear about what’s sustainable for you. You don’t have to attend every conference or take on unpaid labour just to ‘keep up’. Your pace is valid. 

Looking back, I don’t regret my choice. It hasn’t been easy, but it’s been deeply fulfilling. I’ve learned resilience, independence, and the value of carving your own path. If you’re passionate, resourceful, and supported emotionally or financially it is possible to self-fund a PhD. 

Rejection doesn’t mean the end of the road. Sometimes, it’s the beginning of a new one that you build yourself. 

The transition from receiving my PhD offer to actually starting the programme was quite tricky. Coming from taught degrees in the UK, where there was a clear structure and guided learning, I found the shift to independent research challenging. I was excited, but I did not fully anticipate how disorienting it would feel to be responsible for setting my own direction from the start. 

First Year

During the first six months, most of my time was spent reading, thinking, and trying to find my footing. I worked on developing the documentation needed for the transfer, while still trying to define what my research really was. It felt slow and uncertain, but now I see that this phase was necessary. 

If I could give advice to new PhD students, it would be this: know that confusion and self-doubt are part of the process. Take breaks when you need to. Ask for support early. You do not have to do it alone. And most importantly, give yourself permission to grow into the researcher you are becoming. 

The first year was very much about trial and error. I was still figuring out what shape my project would take, especially since I was doing practice-based research, which was relatively new to me. I struggled with self-doubt and often felt like I didn’t yet have the “research brain” required to succeed. In particular, leading up to the transfer stage, I had difficulty understanding what was expected in terms of writing chapters or structuring my ideas. 

Getting Support

At one point, my supervisors held a meeting with me to express their concerns. They weren’t sure I could complete everything in time for the transfer review, and they questioned whether my material was strong enough. That moment really shook me. I was scared I would not be able to continue with the PhD. Thankfully, I was visiting my family in India at the time, and being surrounded by their support helped me take a step back. I realised I needed to build a stronger support system around me both emotionally and academically. 

Looking back, I wish I had reached out for more support sooner. My supervisors were helpful, especially after that tough conversation, but I also realise now that I could have leaned on the Doctoral College or Postgraduate Researcher Development (PGRD) resources more. I let my ego and uncertainty stop me from asking for help, and to be honest, I wasn’t fully aware of what support was available. After the transfer went well, I began exploring more of what was on offer such as writing workshops, sessions on developing arguments, and other skills-based opportunities. These made a big difference and helped me feel more grounded in my work. 

I always thought I wanted to pursue a career in academia. That was one of the main reasons I applied for a PhD. But as I progressed through the programme, I realised what truly drew me in was not academia itself, but the opportunity to do creative, meaningful research. As part of my research, I have grown as a writer and performer, developing my voice through creative practice, including spoken word poetry and storytelling. I realised I want to continue nurturing this part of myself even after the PhD through workshops, events, or artistic collaborations. 

Doing a PhD made me aware of how competitive and precarious an academic career can be. It was disheartening at first to realise that I might not be able to pursue a traditional academic path in the way I had once imagined. I felt unsure about whether I could make it in such a demanding and uncertain field. But over time, I came to see that there are other ways to remain connected to academia.

Getting Experience

Alongside my research, I’ve taken on several student-facing roles at the university, particularly around equity, inclusion, and postgraduate support. These experiences helped me discover another avenue I care deeply about: making higher education a more welcoming and accessible space. I found purpose in working to improve the student experience, especially for those who might feel like outsiders within academic spaces. This, too, felt like a form of meaningful impact and one that I could pursue beyond my doctorate. 

So what do I hope to do after the PhD? I want to continue working in education, especially within university settings where I can support students directly. I would also like to teach and run creative workshops, combining my research interests with my love for writing and performance. I may not follow the traditional academic route, but I want to stay connected to the world of ideas and learning in ways that are practical, collaborative, and creative. 

Was it worth it?

As for whether the PhD is “worth it”: for me, it is. Not only because of the research itself, but because of what I gained along the way. I have grown in confidence, adaptability, and clarity about what matters to me. I have learned how to manage long-term projects, communicate complex ideas, and create work that resonates beyond the academy. 

Get Advice

For those thinking about life beyond the PhD, I strongly recommend speaking with your supervisors and colleagues. Ask about opportunities. Be open to roles you may not have considered before. There is also support available through the Doctoral College or career services, though sometimes you need to take the first step and reach out. 

An academic career can be fulfilling, but it is not the only way to make use of your research and skills. What I’ve learned is that there are many ways to be in conversation with academia: on your own terms.