09/11/2025
Today marks four years since my PhD viva.
I went in feeling as confident as it's psossible for a chronically anxious person with imposter syndrome to be. I thought it would be okay. All my work had been published and I'd been awarded best abstract at a recent conference.
I'd received my autism diagnosis just a few months previously, and had worked with Disability Services to get a plan together to help me through the viva. The internal examiner agreed to this - and honestly, it was common sense: clear questions, breaks, helping me come back to topic if I drifted off.
I thought it would be okay.
It wasn't.
They hated my work and systematically took it to pieces. That wasn't even the most upsetting bit - I hadn't expected it to be perfect. What hurt me the most was that I had asked for help and adjustments, for the first time ever, and they had been agreed and then forgotten.
I dissociated through them telling me my result (refer and resubmit). My supervisor had to step in to allow me to leave the meeting.
I felt so many things but mostly, I felt ashamed. I had never heard of this happening to anyone - everyone finished their viva with “congratulations doctor”. But not me. I hunted online and found an account of someone who had a similar experience. He recounted some of the same emotions - a void of blackness, confusion, a feeling that if the thesis was no good, then what was the point of continued existence? I wanted to die. Made plans. Scrapped them. One of the cruelest things about working in ICU is that you know all the ways that won't work.
Annie was due to arrive on November 14th. She saved me. She showed that I was worthy of love and existence and that she didn't care that my discussion chapter was rubbish 🤣.
I finished my PhD 9 months later. My complaint about my discarded adjustments was upheld. My original result of refer and resubmit was not included in the staff news email that went out. I queried this, and was told “oh I didn't think”. More hiding of the true narrative. More shame.
I didn't go to graduation because I didn't feel like I deserved to. Next month, I'll finally wear my (hideous) PhD gown when I attend my students' graduation.
I love you Annie.