I want to get a PhD and as I was reading the one that stands out to me, I hear the inner critic chiming in. Only thing is that inner critic becomes an external one when I tell the wrong people. To be clear, even the right people play the role of saboteur, intentionally or not.
I have a 3.83 GPA and it would have been flawless if I hadn’t missed an email asking for a discussion post by Friday instead of Sunday. I am more than half way done and don’t expect to fall below the bar I’ve set. I’m older, wiser, and more in tune with my own rhythm, something I never had when I was in my 20s or even 30s.
I have a profound desire and passion to research CPTSD and I have a theory on how entrepreneurship can bridge the gap for teenagers and young adults struggling to thrive while dealing with prolonged trauma.
This has been a nagging intellectual itch that I am slowly exploring. As I move along with my Masters, I know what direction to continue pursuing when I am done…PhD in Educational Psychology.
The program I want is well within reach. And yet all I can think about is what will those who I respect say when I share this goal. I imagine them to expect me to pay my dues first. I “should” acquire more relevant work experience.
I should be more seasoned. I should wait. At 48, how much longer should I hold off?
Should I wait 5 years? Is that enough time to accumulate more battle scars before feeling worthy of an advanced degree? By then, I’ll be 53 entering a 5 year program, making me a “young” 58.
What if 5 years is not enough time? I know people who put in decades and still stop short full of imposter syndrome and projecting their inadequacies onto others. Should I clock a decade first, maybe go back and get an undergraduate degree in Psychology first and work my way up the ranks before deciding to feel worthy of an advanced degree?
What makes me qualified? Is having the desire enough to justify the pursuit?
We have this dysfunctional relationship with time and it’s deeply intertwined with the level of authority we give ourselves permission to have.
Men will collect accolades like they’re Pokemons and no one questions their drive. I decide to hit the gas on my career and suddenly I’m moving too quickly.
I am not afraid of my ambition. I advocate for it. I’ve had to fight myself and the expectations of others who prefer my silence, complicity, and shrinking down.
I have a collegue who I have had repeated conversations with about their power, authority, and professional presence. I’ve coached without coaching, consulted without expectation, and overextended my generosity like someone who lacks boundaries would.
I have a genuine desire to empower others. It might be why I like working with young adults. It might also be a reflection of my wounds, where I act out in order to heal a neglect from childhood. I could rationalize they ways I sacrifice myself and justify self-betrayal as a form of people pleasing. Maybe not to the degree as others, I recognize the ways I accommodate others before my own needs is a reflection of my fears.
However, this rant is not a self-deprecating musing. It’s a bold re-affirmation of how confidence needs to be publicly celebrated or it becomes that tree no one hears falling.
It speaks volumes that I am more comfortable sharing my vision with strangers on a Substack. I’m also getting more particular about who is considered a friend, acquaintance, and coworker.
At the end of the day, we move at the speed of our healing and I didn’t come this far to settle for less than what I’ve earned on my merit.
The world could end tomorrow and it would still be too early to pursue my vision.
We have to get to a point where the inner critic becomes a slight whisper, loud enough to make it’s presence known but not loud enough to make an impact.