So, I am going to start by saying this was not planned. I had intended to keep this a fun space for me to talk about whatever is on my mind. Whether it be about my PhD, some discovery in the areas I am looking into or just general musing about the world. However, to my surprise, the first blog got some lovely feedback. Rather than leaving the story after Year One, I decided to enter the Year Two struggle. To those of you who have not previously done a PhD, you may think the title refers to some new hobby I had taken up in my second year as I delve into the world of standing on my feet as a researcher. I can attest, as can anyone who has had the displeasure of hearing me sing, that singing is not on my radar. Instead, you often hear the term blues banded about the office. “I’ve officially hit the blues” is something everyone says at least once during their second year. In this blog, I am going to try and explain what the blues are, why I think they happened to me (and to most people), why they are so inevitable in a PhD and finally, why getting through them is a personal challenge that leads to an overwhelming change in perspective.

The End Of Year One

I think, and it is certainly true at Loughborough, that the end of the first year is when someone looks at your work and decides if it has value. I remember sitting down for an hour-long meeting with one of the university’s most well-respected lecturers, and for 95% of that meeting, I was in a complete spin trying to get my head around exactly what answers he wanted out of me as he, in a very kind and considered manner, tore my work to shreds. From speaking to others who passed at the same time as me as me, my experience was not unique. We all concluded that it was designed to get us moving as we exited the final months of COVID jail at home and could slowly make our way into the office. Henk, if you are reading this, thank you so much for giving me the nudge (maybe more like kick) most PhDs need at the end of year one and year two to keep the momentum going.

Falling Over

People often say that you find your feet during your first, and I think it is an assessment I made in the blog about year one of a PhD. If that is true, year two’s start is about falling over. You expect your quick and dirty type experiments in year one to fail, and you can rationalise that and take it in your stride. What staggered me and frankly hit me for 6 of Ben Stokes’s finest 6s was the massive, gargantuan failure that would be my first round of “proper” in-depth tests. They could not have gone worse outside of burning the lab down. Actually, I remember thinking at the time that would have been a better outcome as I would never have to look at the rig I had designed again. It was terrible and did nothing like what I expected. Again, as I look back on it, it is the most natural thing in the world. You are designing something that has, normally by definition with a PhD, never been designed. Of course, the first time, it is not going to work. But when you are in the moment, you become so swept up and so gutted by the defeat that you forget how to stand.

Wallowing

Every PhD does it. Every. Single. One. Not only do you forget how to stand, but you aren’t even sure if you want to again. Suddenly, that 9-5 job you were offered seems like the most obvious thing to take and why on earth did you even bother thinking you could do this? It is a natural part of the human spirit to get downtrodden and frustrated when you think things aren’t breaking your way and are instead just breaking. Almost by design, PhDs will draw this feeling out of you. You will find yourself, at some point, wallowing in your failure. The trick here is, as I have previously said, to talk to anyone. My supervisors and my partner in crime, Jake, did a phenomenal job during this period, picking me up when I was struggling to do it myself. It’s amazing how a simple word of encouragement, that two-minute discussion, can change your perspective. As a PhD, one of the most important things you learn is how to regulate failure and deal with life as it happens. I have experienced an example of this today. Today, I was turned down from what was my dream job. I was sad, upset, and frankly a bit downhearted. I decided not to stay in the office and instead go home, cry, and talk with my girlfriend. Within a few hours, whilst still really disappointed, I could pick my head up and keep going. I think that whilst you could learn that ability from somewhere else, nothing relates to it like a PhD; it is an area of growth I will forever be grateful for.

Pulled To Your Feet

When they think of being pulled to their feet, most people think it pertains to people helping you up. Whilst it is true, nothing in a PhD will pull you to your feet like getting a result that is either interesting or that you expected. I remember exiting my wallowing stage while sitting in the lab when an anemometer reading for a flow rate, which had no reason to be incorrect, was right. It was the tinnest of victories an undergraduate would not think twice about when writing a second-year report. And yet. For me, in that moment, when for 15 months it had felt like nothing had gone right, it ripped me off the floor and back to my feet. It is amazing how a PhD will teach you to celebrate the tiniest wins and how these wins always seem to snowball into increasingly brilliant moments.

Remembering You Can Run

Suddenly, you remember you can achieve moments of, if not brilliance, certainly of competence. Going to my first nuclear decommissioning authority conference in Manchester was when I felt like someone who could hold their own. I had conversations where I could educate people on the research I had been doing and why it had value. This experience was invaluable in understanding that I could do this. I was smart enough to, one day, be able to change the M in my suffix to a D. And again, every PhD coming towards completion will be able to look back at a moment like this—a moment where you realise that you could do it. So, there is absolutely no reason to believe that you won’t have this moment when you start to hit the wallow stage. The moment where you realise you can. And if many of them have had it, there is no reason it can’t happen to you. Let yourself be helped out of the quagmire and into the light by those around you, and try and force yourself to sit up, even if you are not ready to stand.

We have all been there. You can do this.