Kilimanjaro and PhD

It was the last year of my PhD that was already unusually tough. It is interesting: a PhD is supposed to be about training to become a good researcher, learning methodologies, rigor, accuracy, rationality… Yet the PhD journey is so emotional. It is also about self-knowledge. I never thought about this when I started my PhD. Nobody told me, and I was not prepared for it. I realised it only in the final year.

I entered a stage of frustration, scepticism, maybe even latent nihilism, questioning whether all the work was worth it. I kept asking myself: Can I finish this? Do I have what it takes? I was desperate, lacking motivation.

So, I decided to climb a nearly 6000m mountain—Kilimanjaro.

The highest point I had ever been to was 2500m. The longest I had ever slept in a tent without showering was one night. The idea was simple (and a bit absurd): if I could accomplish a 7-day journey up Kilimanjaro, I could finish my PhD. But there was more to it than that. I felt I needed to reconnect with myself. To reconnect with life—whatever that means. I had to leave behind the stress and hustle of deadlines and the long-hour laptop days.

Perhaps I just needed to be.

The first hours were great: warmth, amazing kind people, beautiful nature, excitement for what would come.

But those were only the first hours.

We spent the first night already higher than I had ever been before. I started to feel the altitude: faster heartbeat, shallow breathing, slight headache. My analysing, worrying mind kicked in. Full-time. Is my heart beating too fast? Should I take a break? Is this altitude sickness or just tiredness? How will I know if I need to quit?

High altitude sickness is no joke. It can be deadly. The constant sound of helicopters rescuing people did not help. I just kept analysing.

I was aware of my analytical mind. I knew it was fuelled by fear, by my tendency to control everything to protect myself. From my mindfulness practice, I knew I cannot solve thinking by thinking.

Yet, I started to analyse my analysing mind. I was surprised that despite full days of walking in nature, my thinking was the strongest experience.

I decided to focus on my breathing, to focus on each step. I was longing for peace, balance, serenity.

All I got was this worrying, analysing mind. It was the main ruler of this hike. At above 4000m, I had no doubt that I was experiencing the effects of the altitude. It felt as if the air turned into a thick, oily, heavy substance. I needed all the strength to go through this thickness, to make one step and then another. I was slower than any snail in a fairy tale. I managed to reach one of the camps.

Something shifted. There was no doubt that the hike was unpleasant, tough, that the body felt super weird.

But it was ok. I knew after these days that I am ok. I finally let go. I still felt the unease, the struggle, but I was accepting it. I allowed my mind to do whatever it wanted. I let the thoughts come and go with each step. I just walked. I trusted that I would know when it is too much for me. Because it is me and my body.

This created a space for enjoying nature, for quietness and simplicity of walking. It was the balance and serenity I strived for before.

Later, I, indeed, experienced the moment when it was too much.

At base camp, around 4600m, I felt as if my entire body was exploding, the pressure in my head, in my organs, a headache like I have never had before, even though I have chronic migraines.

I did not need to analyse: I knew I had to go down. There was this voice in me – I cannot give up, I was here to not give up. But I knew that this moment was not about giving up.

It was about taking care of myself. It was about giving up the critical voice that challenges me in an unreasonable and unkind way.

I went down. I felt a little bit disappointed, but mainly proud that I made that decision.

Now, what does this have to do with a PhD or academia?

A lot. My reactions during the hike were the same patterns in my behaviour and mind that I have in research: analysing, worrying, pushing and criticising myself. I could see it clearly in this different environment.

Mainly, the hike showed me there are other ways. Kinder and more constructive ways.

Ways of approaching a PhD with acceptance, taking stress as an opportunity to get to know myself better and finding healthy responses. Giving up perfectionism and prioritising my mental health while trusting that I can do good work. Working not under the analysing, worrying mind, but in the state of self-trust and balance, which is much better for creativity and good ideas. I want to cultivate this.

If there are some lessons learned, then I would like to tell my past, but also present self, then they are:

·       Learn to distinguish giving up from taking care of yourself

·       Trust your pace, skills and needs

·       Be kinder to yourself

·       Celebrate each good moment and accomplishment, no matter how small or big it is

·       It is all about self-knowledge. And self-knowledge takes practice, patience, and a lot of self-compassion and self-care