Post-Dissertation Calm (II): Introducing the 6 Month Slow Burn Dissertation Coaching Program.
The Emotional Work of Writing a Dissertation
Most advice about dissertations treats them as intellectual projects. And they are! At least from far way. Once you look a little closer, though, you begin to see the layered emotional and affective components of actually producing one.
We’re told to clarify our research questions, create a writing schedule, and simply sit down and produce pages. This is invaluable — if sometimes vague — advice, and it points to the very real, concrete practices that a dissertation coach like myself can help with: structure, pacing, accountability, and breaking an overwhelming project into manageable parts.
But these tangible writing strategies don’t fully account for the emotional experiences and expense of dissertating — the anxiety, self-doubt, isolation, and exhaustion that so often accompany the work and quietly shape our (in)ability to do it. For many people (myself included), the hardest part of writing a dissertation is not intellectual. It’s emotional.
A lot of times, when failing to account for this affective component and focusing instead only on the “writing” part of dissertating, many perfectly capable grad students conclude that something must be wrong with them. That they lack discipline, confidence, or the elusive quality of “motivation.”
Dissertating can be an intensely isolating experience. Much of the work happens alone, unfolding over years amid anxiety, shame, and self-doubt. It asks us to sustain focus and belief in our work, but takes place outside of the familiar, milestone-based structure of coursework and without the regular affirmation that once came from grades or classroom discussion. Progress can feel invisible for long stretches of time. Even when friends and family are supportive, it can feel impossible to explain what you’re working on, why it’s taking so long, or why it feels so heavy.
Over time, that isolation becomes loneliness — and loneliness quietly erodes confidence.
Many students find themselves wrestling with imposter syndrome and persistent self-doubt. Questions like Do I belong here?, Am I capable of producing something worthy?, or What if my committee realizes I don’t know enough? become a constant internal soundtrack. Alongside this runs the ongoing pressure to prove one’s worth — intellectually, professionally, and personally — within institutions that offer little reassurance or recognition in return.
It is surprisingly common to reach the dissertation stage and no longer feel certain about academia, or even about finishing the degree itself. The version of academic life many of us imagined entering – intellectually vibrant, stable, meaningful – often looks quite different in practice. Reconciling that gap can bring grief, disappointment, and confusion, especially when we’ve already invested so much time and energy.
These emotions are rarely acknowledged openly. Instead, students are encouraged to push through, to be grateful for the opportunity, or to focus on productivity. Yet, ignoring the emotional dimension of this process doesn’t make it disappear. It simply forces it underground, where it tends to resurface as burnout, avoidance, or deep exhaustion.
This emotional strain frequently shows up as anxiety and overwhelm. The dissertation begins to occupy not just time, but mental and emotional space. Even when you’re not working on it, it’s there: in the background of your thoughts, in the tightness of your chest, in the fatigue that makes it harder to begin again. For some, prolonged stress even manifests physically — disrupted sleep, headaches, or a sense of constant tension.
Many people I speak with worry that something has gone wrong because the dissertation feels all but impossible. But difficulty is not evidence of failure. It is often evidence of prolonged stress without adequate support. The emotional labor of writing a dissertation includes managing uncertainty, tolerating imperfection, navigating shifting identities, and holding both hope and doubt at the same time. That is real work, even when no new pages are produced.
Understanding this can be quietly relieving. When we begin to see our struggle as contextual rather than personal, the question shifts. Instead of asking, “Why can’t I just get myself to work?” we might ask, “What conditions would make this work possible for me now?” For some, that means reassessing expectations. For others, it means creating structures that feel supportive rather than punitive. And for many, it begins with taking an honest look at their emotional capacity – not as a measure of worth, but as practical information.
If this resonates, you might find it helpful to pause and reflect more intentionally. I’ve created a short emotional self-assessment for dissertation writers, available here.
And then there is the deeply personal nature of the work itself.
Many dissertations are closely tied to our identities, values, and intellectual commitments. Writing about topics that matter profoundly to us can be meaningful — but it can also be emotionally taxing in ways that are rarely acknowledged. The toll of writing this kind of work is different from the challenges of writing in itself.
It’s no wonder that perfectionism often takes hold. When the work feels this important, it can become nearly impossible to decide when something is “good enough.” Progress slows. Avoidance creeps in. What once felt meaningful begins to feel unbearable.
At this stage, many students begin asking a quiet but honest question:
Is the emotional labor still worth it?
This is not a question of weakness or failure. It is a question of care.
For some, the answer may ultimately be “no” — and that, too, can be a thoughtful and valid decision. But for others, the answer is “yes, with support.” “Yes,” if the process no longer has to be endured alone. “Yes,” if there is room for empathy, encouragement, perspective, and structure that make the work feel survivable again.
Finishing a dissertation can bring profound emotional relief: a renewed sense of accomplishment, confidence in your own intellectual voice, and the grounded knowledge that you followed something difficult through to its end – none of which anyone can ever take away from you. Many people also find that the final months — when appropriately supported — allow space to reclaim curiosity, rebuild trust in themselves, and finally feel ready to defend and graduate.
If you are at a point where you want to finish, but not at the cost of your wellbeing, you do not have to navigate this alone.
For those who are ready to get help finishing their dissertations, I am currently enrolling graduate students in my 6 Month Slow Burn dissertation coaching program.
The upcoming cycle begins Monday, February 2, 2026, and runs through July 2026, guiding you from wherever you are now through writing, defense preparation, and completion. If this feels like the kind of support you’ve been missing, I invite you to contact me to learn more. Let’s set up a FREE ½ hour exploratory conversation to figure out what you need and how I can help.
If you’re not ready to make that commitment yet, but want to reflect more deeply on where you are emotionally, I’ve created a free short emotional self-assessment for dissertation writers. It’s designed to help you take stock of what you’re carrying right now — without judgment or pressure — and to clarify what kind of support might actually help.
You can download the self-assessment by joining my email list here.
Whether you choose support now or simply begin with reflection, you deserve a process that acknowledges the emotional reality of dissertating — not one that asks you to ignore it.
