I recently finished my PhD in Computer Science at the University of
California, San Diego, which feels incredibly weird to type out. It
was a long time coming, and even now saying “I recently defended my
PhD” versus “I am working on my PhD” seems strange and a lie
[1]. So I
wanted to reflect on the last 7 years of my life and the biggest
lesson I learned. This piece isn’t about whether to do a PhD or not
– there are a lot of great articles in the world on this – but
rather my thoughts on my own individual journey of growth.
A PhD is a degree that signifies expertise in a specific area[2], but it was also a
huge time of growth and change for me personally[3]. I worked on my PhD in the
period from my early 20s to my late 20s, so it’s a little hard to disentangle
the growth during my PhD from the fact that this is a period of time where a lot
of people experience massive personal growth. In fact, for me they are actually
very deeply entwined, because a lot of what I experienced was because of my PhD
and the challenges I faced during it.
What do I mean by personal growth though? Well, when I joined, my biggest goal
in life was to be a well-known researcher. That was a lot of my focus and when I
think about the first four years of my PhD, they feel distinctly different from
the last three in that all I remember was running from one place to
the next[4]. I
was desperately trying to maximize the number of checkboxes I could complete
while constantly comparing myself to those around me. I wasn’t really cherishing
any of the victories, large or small, and was wearing myself way too thin.
My goals in life changed pretty abruptly when my dad died in late
2020, which I’ve talked about briefly
online. To say it was world-stopping is an understatement – I
thought my dad and I had at least another decade of bickering and
laughter together, and when he passed it felt like the world stopped
spinning and I was shot into space with no preparation. There’s a
lot more to say on this[5], but I started to wonder what all this running was for
if I felt so much regret at lost time.
So, I slowly reprioritized. After many months of thinking, reading
resources, and finding comfort from others, I realized the thing
that matters the most to me is the people in my life[6]. I had originally come into this PhD
wanting to get a “free” master’s and then leave[7]. Even when I thought about why I
wanted to stick around after that first year, the largest part
wasn’t the research itself, but the people and community I was a
part of: my fantastic advisors who encouraged me to try things,
while providing a safety net to let me land gently when I inevitably
fell; my labmates and department-mates who were excited about their
work, but also excited about their hobbies and things around them;
the people I met outside of the department who found beauty in the
world and shared it with me in their own ways. And the conclusion I
came to is that people are what matter most. I love stimulating work
and getting paid for it, and the city where I did my PhD is
fantastic. But every time I looked back to my past, I saw that it
was the people who kept me going, even in the dark moments when I
didn’t think I could[8].
This was a stunning change of perspective for me, even though I am a massive
extrovert. That my biggest goal in life changed from being a well-known
researcher, to cultivating deep relationships with the people around me, and
nurturing love and connection at every step of the way. Doing good work that I
think could have an impact on security became a secondary goal pretty quickly.
I think this was so monumental to experience during my PhD, because
research[9],
especially in an academic setting, encourages you to put it first. That the work
speaks for itself and if you don’t dedicate every ounce of your being, then you
won’t achieve. I truly believe that because of my PhD, this reprioritization
from work to connection hit so much harder. There will always be another paper,
another deadline, another promotion. There won’t be another life, or another
dad. Perhaps for some people their takeaway would have been to maximize
productivity and output. For me the outcome was to maximize my happiness, which
at the end of the day is being with people I love to be around. I still want to
do good work and good research, because I find it oh so fun, but by prioritizing
the people I’m not only happier in doing so, but I also produce
better research[10]
, a win-win all around.
I loved my time at the PhD. I loved being able to explore the unknown, and try
to make security better across different populations and domains. In retrospect,
doing this with people who were compassionate, humble, and ready to laugh made
it so much easier. I’m not sure I would have made it through a PhD if that
hadn't been my case. I BELONGED somewhere, and that comfort was a cornerstone in
my experience of the last 7 years. I don’t think I really understood until the
last three years how much the people matter.
As with all transitions, there’s a bit of bittersweetness involved. I was so
fortunate to cross paths with so many terrific folks. To add to this
bittersweetness is the fact that we will never have these moments again in this
time. We are all constantly changing and growing, so this moment will never
exist again in its current form. It’s beautiful and amazingly dispiriting.
Do I know what’s next? A bout of rest and relaxation to enjoy this moment of
triumph. I am looking forward to some time to breathe, write, and finish
manuscripts that are on the precipice of completeness. For now I’m embracing
this moment and the joy, connection, and love that comes with it, even if the
unknown of what’s next is terrifying.
What I do know is that as I start to figure out next steps, I know what to
prioritize – the people around me, and enjoying the time I have in this
terrifically short life.