When I look back today, the dream of achieving a doctorate feels like a long, winding river that started flowing when I was just a child — a faint but persistent dream that refused to die, even when life pushed me in entirely different directions.

It all began years ago with a simple moment in school. I still remember one of my schoolteachers — a woman of immense grace and knowledge — telling us about what it meant to be a PhD holder. I didn’t understand much back then, but her words left a mark: “Those who achieve a PhD change the world with their thinking.” That line stayed with me, quietly taking root somewhere deep inside.

As I entered my teenage years, I saw this dream take shape closer to home. My Mausi (aunt) completed her PhD — a moment of immense pride for our entire family. Watching her work tirelessly, balancing family responsibilities with her research work, showed me that it wasn’t just brilliance that mattered — it was persistence, patience, and grit.

Later, my Chacha (uncle) went abroad, earning accolades and eventually teaching at an international university. That opened a new world of possibilities in my mind. Education, research, and academic contributions were not just confined to textbooks — they could shape lives globally. Then came my cousin, pushing boundaries, diving deep into international research, and excelling — all because of the foundation a PhD had provided.

Each story around me added one more stone to the bridge I didn’t even know I was building — a bridge toward my own doctorate.

Unlike most traditional PhD aspirants, I didn’t come from an engineering, science, or even an academic background. My career had been steeped in private-sector work — sales-oriented, target-driven, fast-paced. Numbers mattered, but in a different way: hitting revenue targets, managing client expectations, and racing against quarterly goals. Critical thinking and statistics — essential tools for thesis work — didn’t come naturally from my professional life.

I was used to performance reviews, sales targets, and quick wins — not the slow, methodical, and deeply introspective world that academic research demands. Synchronizing these two worlds — my demanding job and the pursuit of deep, original research — became my biggest challenge.

There were days when after grueling work hours, my mind would refuse to think critically. I would look at journal articles and statistical models with a blank stare. “Why am I doing this?” was a question that visited me many nights.

Why Did I Want This?

The answer was simple but powerful: I wanted to prove to myself that I could think beyond immediate outcomes. I wanted depth, not just speed. I wanted to contribute something lasting, something that wasn’t just measured in sales numbers but in knowledge, insights, and real-world application.

Earning a doctorate was not just a degree for me — it was a transformation. It was about pushing the boundaries of what I believed I could achieve. It was about finally giving voice to the little child in me who once dreamed of changing the world with thinking.

The Shift: When the Universe Conspires

Once I decided I wasn’t going to give up, something beautiful began to happen. Support started coming from all directions. Family, friends, even colleagues who had once thought it was an “overstretch” started rooting for me. New mentors appeared, offering advice. Doors I hadn’t even knocked on opened.

Especially when I entered the dissertation phase — the heart and soul of the doctoral journey — I realized how much this support mattered.

What Is the Dissertation Phase?

For those unfamiliar, the dissertation phase is when all your learning, exploration, and planning condenses into a single, structured piece of original research. It is not just about writing; it’s about thinking, questioning, analyzing, and often, doubting yourself. You must bring something new to the academic world, defend it rigorously, and stay resilient through endless feedback, revisions, and rethinking.

In short, it’s the phase where many doctoral dreams stumble — and mine was no exception.

During the dissertation phase, the pressure was intense. Juggling deadlines at work with thesis milestones was like running two marathons at once — each demanding, each relentless.

Some days, I would struggle with month end targets in the morning and spend the evening analyzing regression models and qualitative data for my research. The mental switch was exhausting. I often felt isolated — few around me truly understood what I was trying to do.

Self-doubt became a companion. Was I even capable of creating original research? Would my work stand scrutiny? Was I wasting time?

The emotional pressure in the dissertation phase is often understated. It is a lonely path, where the only thing that keeps you moving is a belief in your goal — and the tiny victories along the way: a chapter approved, a piece of feedback appreciated, a methodology validated.

Success Takes Time to Sink In

When I finally submitted my thesis and got the email for presentation with the given penal members, my heart literally sunk. After preparation and then learning again a lot of new small & big aspects around my own thesis gave me sever anxiety. As the day of presentation approached I felt like locking myself in a room and vanishing, but then I had to do, what needs to be done, I gave the presentation and later received the panel opinion that it had been cleared successfully, I didn’t immediately feel elated. Oddly enough, the first emotion was disbelief.

After years of dreaming, months of struggle, and countless early morning’s of hard work, the mind takes a while to adjust to success. I had been running on adrenaline for so long that standing still — and actually celebrating — felt unfamiliar.

But slowly, it sank in. A warm, quiet pride filled me. The child who had once admired her schoolteacher, the teenager who saw her aunt & uncle earn their doctorate’s and cousin thrive in the academic world — she had now completed the circle.

What I Feel Now

Today, I feel a sense of liberation. Not because I have a PhD the highest education degree — but because I stayed true to a promise I made to myself. I stepped out of my comfort zone. I fought through a system I wasn’t trained for. I stayed resilient when giving up would have been so much easier.

Most importantly, I proved to myself that dreams are not restricted by career backgrounds, job pressures, or life circumstances. They are only restricted by the limits we place on ourselves.

If you’re in a high-pressure private-sector job and you still harbor a dream — whether it’s a doctorate, a startup, a creative project — please don’t let go of it.

The journey will be chaotic. The demands will be brutal. But if you stay committed, the universe will eventually conspire to make it happen. Support will find you. Strength will find you. Success will find you.

Remember: it’s not about how fast you move; it’s about how deeply you move towards your purpose.

And one day, you’ll look back — just like I am today — and realize: waking every morning at 4am for 3 years, studying every Saturday till 4am & every moment of doubt, was worth it.

Keep dreaming. Keep moving. You are closer than you think.