Some people think there’s a clear path to success in research—an elite group that always knew what they were doing. But that’s not reality. If you feel lost, uncertain, or like an outsider, you’re not alone. That’s actually the defining feature of this career.
When I started my PhD, both my father and father-in-law passed away within a week of each other. I wanted to stop. I wanted to take a break.
But I couldn’t. You can’t.
You don’t get to pause life during a PhD.
I spent my first year grieving and driving my father to cancer hospitals, all while trying to study. My marriage, only a few months old, was strained. My research felt impossible.
I wanted to quit.
But I didn’t.
Because that’s what a PhD teaches you—it’s not just about research, it’s about resilience. The ability to keep going, one step at a time, even when life throws everything at you. If you’re struggling, if you’re doubting yourself, know this: you are exactly where you need to be. Nobody has this figured out. Just take a step forward every day.
That’s all any of us can do.
Research and the Psychology of Failure
Research is not just about science, funding, or intelligence. It is about self-doubt. It is about feeling like a failure.
We all think everyone else has it figured out. We scroll through CVs, compare our accomplishments to others, and convince ourselves that we are falling behind. Then, instead of taking risks, we play it safe.
And that’s the problem.
I spend tens of thousands of dollars each year trying to build R3ciprocity.com, trying to make research easier for others. For what?And yet, every day, I feel like a failure.
I want to quit. It’s embarrassing. It’s painful.
It’s lonely.
I have been refused or rejected so many times. I won’t get “that” job because of R3ciprocity. It is too much of a risk.
I am not publishing enough.
I am not doing things that “count.”
They say “why are you doing that?”
But I keep going.
Because that’s what research is: Stepping into the unknown, even when you’re scared.
Even when you think no one cares.
Even when you think you’re not good enough.
They will reject you for the ideas you choose.
But, you keep going.
You Are More Than Your Insecurities
Being naturally shy, I always assumed I wasn’t good enough. That I shouldn’t speak up. That I wasn’t made for success.
But I’ve learned something important—being shy isn’t a weakness. It’s my strength.
Many people have criticized me because I was not “assertive” enough growing up.
Oh well. They had no idea “who” I was.
People often believe that confidence came from being loud, from dominating conversations, from knowing all the answers. But real confidence is quiet. It comes from showing up as yourself, embracing who you are, and knowing that your voice matters.
I still underestimate myself. I still feel insecure.
But I don’t let that stop me. And you shouldn’t either.
The Brutal Truth About the Job Market
Dear PhD student with an unsuccessful job search—I was you in 2009.
It sucked.
I had a two-year-old, and my wife was pregnant with another. I had 12 years of university education and nothing to show for it. I applied to over 70 universities. I didn’t even get rejections—I got silence.
And here’s what I learned: the market does not care about you.
This is rough to read. It was rough to live.
There are people who are better, more connected, and likely more deserving than you. There are more famous people than you. You are not special.
But here’s the thing—none of that actually matters.
The job market treats you like a commodity, boiling you down to numbers and rankings. But you are not a number. You are a person with ideas, creativity, and the ability to redefine your own path.
Stop looking at CVs. Stop measuring yourself against others. Stop chasing validation.
Read this post to understand why you should stop chasing success.
The Choice of Being A Joyful Researcher
The PhD is not just about proving yourself—it’s also about playing. About experimenting. About learning to enjoy the process, even when things don’t go your way.
When I couldn’t find a job, I got to spend more time with my family. I played street hockey with my son. I danced around the kitchen to “Chicken Fried.” Those moments mattered more than any job title ever could.
You don’t have to wait for success to enjoy your life. You don’t need a perfect CV to laugh at the absurdity of academia. You don’t need external validation to feel like you belong.
Academia can often feel like it is broken. The system is arbitrary. But you? You don’t have to be.
Play more. Worry less.
Keep learning because you love it, not because it “counts.” Keep going into the unknown, even when you’re scared.
Laugh at the market.
Dance in the kitchen.
Because in the end, being a joyful research is the best measure of success.