Looking back on my PhD, here is the practical advice I wish someone had given me before my first year—on research, coursework, wellbeing, and community.
Now that I’ve finished my PhD, the first year looks pretty different than it did while I was living through it. At the time it was exciting and challenging and, honestly, a lot. It was a year of figuring out a new place, a new field, and a new version of myself, and it came with a healthy dose of self-doubt.
Here are the things I wish someone had told me going in. None of it is about getting straight A’s or publishing early. It’s mostly about not burning out, building something you can stand on, and playing the long game.
One of the most useful ideas I picked up in grad school comes from How Big Things Get Done by Bent Flyvbjerg and Dan Gardner: “think slow, act fast.” Before you jump into experiments, code, or data, spend real time understanding the landscape of your field first.
I used to think of literature search as a box to check before the “real” work. It’s not. It’s one of the most important skills you’ll build. Reading widely keeps you from reinventing the wheel, shows you where the actual gaps are, and slowly gives you a feel for what makes some research matter and other research forgettable.
A few things that worked for me:
Thinking slow isn’t the same as being slow. It just means being deliberate about where you put your energy before you sprint off in some direction.
For most of my first year I felt this nagging pressure to produce. Other students seemed to be off presenting at conferences and putting out papers, and I kept wondering why I wasn’t. Looking back, almost all of that pressure was coming from me.
Your first year really isn’t about output. It’s about learning how to think. Use it to poke around different directions before you commit to one, to sit with the big questions in your field, and to build up the skills your research is going to need later anyway.
Research is messy and nonlinear. You’ll have weeks where everything clicks and weeks where nothing works, and both are completely normal. Try not to compare your chapter 1 to someone else’s chapter 10. Focus on learning to think like a researcher, getting to know your advisor and labmates, and building habits that’ll actually hold up over the next several years.
First-year coursework can feel weirdly disconnected from your research, but it’s doing more than it seems. It builds the theory your work eventually leans on, drags you into areas you didn’t know you’d care about, and sharpens how you think in general.
While you’re in it, keep asking how a course connects to what you’re interested in, what skills you’re picking up that’ll transfer, and what new questions it’s opening up. The good courses usually leave you with more questions than they answer.
Also, give yourself permission to lean into coursework early. The goal is to do well in your classes while starting to dip into research, not to be amazing at both at the same time. That’s a recipe for stress.
Grad school is a marathon, not a sprint, and your health is the thing that makes the whole rest of it possible. It’s not something to trade away.
Taking care of yourself isn’t selfish or a distraction. It’s a prerequisite for doing good work.
Grad school can get lonely, especially if you moved somewhere new where you don’t know anyone. Building a community ended up being one of the best things I did.
The reasons are pretty simple. You need people who get the ups and downs, a lot of the best ideas come out of casual hallway conversations, and the people around you slowly become both your network and your friends.
What helped me:
This stuff takes time, so be patient and keep showing up.
If you moved for grad school, spend some time getting to know your new city. It’s not a distraction from your work. It’s part of being a person who’s happy enough to do the work.
Getting out and exploring helped a lot with homesickness, gave me things to look forward to, and made the whole experience about more than just research. Walk or bike around your neighborhood, find your cafe, get outside, go to local events, take the occasional day trip. A happier, more well-rounded person tends to be a better researcher anyway.
Almost everyone in grad school feels like an impostor at some point. Like they don’t belong, aren’t smart enough, or are about to get found out. I definitely did.
And it makes sense why. You’re surrounded by brilliant people, the bar is high, research is uncertain by nature, and comparison is way too easy. A few things that helped me deal with it:
The people who look the most put-together are usually struggling too. They’ve just gotten better at hiding it. Feeling like an impostor doesn’t make you one. It mostly means you’re somewhere hard and actually growing.
The first year is a big transition, and feeling overwhelmed or unsure of what you’re doing is completely normal. If I had to boil down what I learned, it’d be something like this:
The first year is really where the foundation gets laid, academically, professionally, and personally. Be patient with yourself. You’re probably more capable than you feel right now.
Good luck, and try to enjoy the ride.
Have questions or want to share your own experiences? Feel free to reach out or leave a comment below.
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