This post links closely to my recent one on Rejection, as many of the themes and emotions are interrelated.

This week, I posted an update on LinkedIn and was absolutely blown away by the response from both people I knew and absolute strangers. The support was incredible; I was so afraid of judgement before posting but, as with this blog, I’m hoping that if my reflections help just one person understand themselves, or feel able to better understand and support others, it’s worth it.

For those of you who haven’t seen the post, or aren’t on LinkedIn, I’ll paraphrase it here, with some additional context.

I had been debating whether to post but I think it’s important to be authentic. The alternative would be not to make reference to it in the hope that no-one would ever ask me about it (and then feel huge guilt/a sense a failure if and when they do). So many people feel pressured to do things that aren’t right for them because they don’t want to be seen to fail/feel like they’re failing.

So before I start, I want to make two things clear:

• Making a decision that is right for you is not a failure. Walking away from something that doesn’t work for you, or works against you, isn’t failing; it’s putting yourself first. It takes real strength to make a decision that goes against what you feel is expected of you.

• Walking away isn’t the same as quitting. The key difference between quitting and mindfully walking away is intentionality.

This week, I made the difficult decision to withdraw from my PhD. Not because I don’t want to pursue a doctorate; far from it. I absolutely want to achieve those two magic letters at the start of my name, but this route isn’t for me anymore.

My life has changed so much since I started it back in late 2016. My role has changed, and so have I. For a variety of reasons (the new role, pandemic, my diagnoses and a host of other personal circumstances), I’ve interrupted for the last four years. Each year I’d convince myself that that would be the year I’d start back with renewed enthusiasm but instead all I felt was overwhelm.

I’ve realised, following my diagnoses, that I need structure and deadlines for a project that big, especially when I’m trying to learn and develop my skills. The PhD doesn’t afford me that and it’s ok to recognise that. The subject I was originally researching is now only tangentially related to my role and is, therefore, harder to find the momentum to move forward after such a long period of interruption.

With what I know about how my Autism and ADHD affect me, if I want to pursue doctoral study I think I’m realistically looking at moving to a more structured programme with scaffolding and deadlines, like the EdD. This wasn’t available at my institution when I started all those years ago, and bizarrely, the Professional Doctorates required a Master’s whereas a PhD didn’t (this isn’t the case now, and I’m 5 credits shy of a Master’s – a long story for another day!) so essentially I had no alternative but to follow this route. Having said that, even if that option were available to me then, I didn’t know myself as well as I do now so, while I’d like to think that’s what I’d have chosen, I can’t be sure that would have been the case.

I used to think I had to keep going otherwise I’d be considered a failure and that my supervisors and line manager would be annoyed with me if I walked away because of the time and energy my supervisors had put in to supporting me, and the amount they’d spent on covering my tuition fees. Now I think it’s harder to walk away from something like this (especially as an academic) than it is to push through and perhaps even fail at viva etc.

The academic environment, even now, has an expectation that to be at the top of your game, or to progress into senior positions, you need those two letters at the front of your name. It’s frightening to think that someone would look at whether I’ve completed a doctorate before considering my skills and work experience when considering whether I’m suitable to shortlist for a role (especially if it’s Head of School, Dean, DVC, PVC etc). It’s perhaps less of a barrier if you remain in the same institution but if you’re looking externally (and especially internationally) it’s a real concern.

That said, I’m trying to consider it a fresh start, not a failing, and look to the future with renewed passion. If I were to continue on the PhD route, I’d only be failing myself. I’d potentially push myself deeper into burnout too; I’ve come so far over the last few months that I can’t do that to myself.

As you’ve probably gathered from this blog – and those you of who know and with me won’t be surprised to know – my passion now lies in the area of neurodivergence and I hope to be able to pursue my doctorate in that area in the not too distant future. I’ve love to be able to put into practice what I’ve learned and use it to support students and/or staff to achieve their potential. In true ADHD style, I’ve so many ideas running through my head. I need to sit down and try and identify which of those are feasible and will have a real impact, ready to create a project proposal and submit it as part of a future application (subject to agreement, funding etc).

It’s not all bad –

I continue to be transparent about my diagnoses and challenges because I think it’s important to enable people to better understand me and able us to get the best out of our working relationship. I’m also a huge believer in authenticity because it helps you grow, and normalises things for other people. We often feel that we are the one person experiencing something and when we find out there are others like it, it’s a huge weight off our minds.

Whilst it’s been an emotional week, it’s been really positive because I’m now feeling a huge sense of relief for making a decision that I’m confident is the best one for me. I am also honoured to have been asked today to be the co-chair of the university’s Neurodiverse Staff Network. I can’t wait to work with colleagues to see what support we can offer each other and what improvements we can foster together!