Lessons From My Doctoral Journey: Healing, Self-Doubt, and Moving Forward
- Lynn Cukaj
- 4 days ago
- 5 min read
By Dr. Lynn Cukaj, PhD, ATR-BC, MHC-LP www.CreativeExpressionsConsulting.com
Art Therapy for Children, Teenagers and Adults
My doctoral journey began six years ago, at the start of the COVID-19 pandemic. In many ways, however, the journey began long before that.
For years, I had been exploring how to expand my practice and pursue what I had always felt called to do: help people heal in deeper, more meaningful ways. My experiences with clients, my study of psychotherapy approaches, and the work of many influential theorists all pointed me toward the same question: What helps people move from suffering to healing?
I have always been drawn to stories (both fiction and nonfiction) about people who survive difficult experiences and somehow find their way back to themselves. Whether their suffering came through life's circumstances or at the hands of another person, I was fascinated by their resilience. More than anything, I wanted to understand what allows some people not only to survive adversity but to grow through it.
I often think about healing through the example of a scratch or cut. One person may leave the wound alone and allow it to heal naturally. Another may gently clean it, protect it, and give it the care it needs. A third may continually pick at it, delaying the healing process.
Each wound may eventually leave a scar, but those scars will likely look very different depending on how the wound was treated. I often wonder whether the same is true for the wounds we carry emotionally.
Does the way we care for our internal pain influence not only how we heal, but also the scars we carry forward?
I have lived a blessed life. While I have certainly experienced hardships, I have not endured severe trauma caused by another person or by a single life-altering event. Even so, I have experienced enough loss, disappointment, and struggle to appreciate that suffering is part of being human. It has also taught me that healing looks different for everyone.
Many people in my personal life have experienced profound suffering. Yet what has always struck me is not the suffering itself, but what came afterward. Rather than remaining defined by their pain, many found ways to heal, grow, and serve others through their work, their volunteerism, or simply by showing up for the people they love.
Over time, I noticed another pattern. Those who approached life's challenges with greater self-compassion and hope often seemed better able to regain their footing after setbacks, loss, divorce, illness, or unexpected life transitions.
In my professional work, I saw this pattern as well. Some individuals experienced these same events as completely derailing and struggled to imagine a path forward. Witnessing both resilience and despair deepened my desire to expand my clinical skills so I could help people move beyond surviving toward truly healing.
When the pandemic began, I decided to apply to Pace University's master's program in Mental Health Counseling. Once I began the program, I realized I wanted to continue even further by pursuing a PhD in Mental Health Counseling.
Throughout these six years, my passion for creativity, self-compassion, and psychological well-being never faded. Instead, my studies confirmed many of the observations I had made throughout my life. The research on resilience, creativity, self-compassion, and psychological well-being echoed what I had witnessed both personally and professionally. The journey itself, however, was far from easy.
There were many moments when I wanted to quit. Self-doubt, imposter syndrome, and exhaustion often made me question whether I had the stamina to finish such a large undertaking. Fortunately, running had already taught me an important lesson: don't focus on the entire race; just the ground directly in front of you.
When my children were younger, I would often remind them, "Forward motion, please!" whenever they became distracted while we were trying to get somewhere. Eventually, that phrase became my own reminder as well. Progress doesn't happen in giant leaps. It happens one small step at a time.
During the most overwhelming moments of my doctoral program, "forward motion, please" became my mantra.
I am incredibly grateful for the support of my mentor, as well as the patience of my family and close friends. They listened to countless conversations about revisions, manuscript drafts, printing, editing, re-editing, and editing all over again.
Ironically, one of the greatest personal victories came from the part I feared most: statistics. And for most of my life, I carried the belief that I was "bad at math." That narrative followed me well into adulthood. While I certainly won't be calling myself a statistician anytime soon, completing my statistical analyses challenged that story. I no longer define myself by that limiting belief, and that lesson may have been just as valuable as earning the degree itself.
One aspect of the PhD journey that I don't think is discussed enough is the emotional anticipation surrounding both the proposal defense and the dissertation defense. Looking back, I felt much more prepared for the dissertation defense than I did for the proposal defense, and I now understand why.
During the proposal stage, you are still learning from the work of others. You are reading the literature, synthesizing ideas, and trying to determine how your own research will contribute to the existing body of knowledge.
By the time you defend your dissertation, however, something has fundamentally changed.
You have completed your own study. You are no longer simply describing the work of other researchers; you have become one of them. You have contributed your own findings, interpretations, and ideas. The relationship to the knowledge becomes entirely different.
The best way I can describe this transformation is through the image of a snow globe.
Imagine looking into a snow globe from the outside. You can see the tiny buildings, the pathways, and the way everything has been carefully arranged. You can study it, admire it, and wonder why each piece was placed where it was. That is what the proposal stage feels like.
The dissertation defense feels different. By then, you have stepped inside the snow globe. You understand how the landscape was constructed because you helped build part of it yourself. You are no longer observing from the outside; you are participating in the creation of knowledge.
As I reflect on that metaphor, I find myself wondering whether it offers more than simply a way to describe my doctoral experience. Perhaps it also provides a creative invitation for others.
How often do we spend our lives observing, analyzing, or imagining something from the outside before finally stepping into it ourselves?
The following reflective writing exercise is designed to help explore that transition, from observer to participant, and what it reveals about our own growth.
Download the worksheet below to view on your device or print a copy to complete by hand.
For more therapeutic activities and resources on how to incorporate Art Therapy into your life, read more from Lynn's Creative Expressions Blog.
Learn more about Art Therapy and Lynn Cukaj, Board Certified Art Therapist here: www.CreativeExpressionsConsulting.com
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