Psychological capital in the PhD

Dr Lynette Pretorius

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Dr Lynette Pretorius is an award-winning educator and researcher in the fields of academic language, literacy, research skills, and research methodologies. 

Hi there! Have you ever wondered what it really takes to thrive during a PhD? For over a decade, I’ve worked closely with graduate students, helping them navigate the academic and emotional hurdles of this journey. Along the way, I’ve seen a lot—students overwhelmed by isolation, stress, and uncertainty. Many come to me not knowing why they feel the way they do or where to turn for help.

Let’s talk about the bigger picture. Mental health is a major issue in our society. Did you know that nearly half of all Australians will experience a mental illness at some point in their lives? Now imagine the pressures of a PhD—high workloads, financial insecurity, and a lack of work-life balance. It’s then no surprise that PhD students are twice as likely to struggle with mental health compared to the general population. Some studies even compare their stress levels to those of incarcerated individuals. Shocking, right?

So how can we make this better? This is where the concept of psychological capital comes in, and is the focus of my recent paper. The definition I like to use refers to psychological capital as the HERO within. HERO stands for hope, efficacy, resilience, and optimism. These are the mental tools that help us stay motivated, face challenges, bounce back from setbacks, and believe in our ability to succeed.

While there’s plenty of research on mental health issues among PhD students, we rarely hear their personal stories. These stories matter because they show what it’s really like and can drive change in universities. In my study, I focused on one PhD student, who I call “Em,” at a large Australian university. This was done by using narrative ethnography as a methodology. Narrative ethnography is a type of autoethnography that blends the researcher’s own experiences with the stories and insights of others. It focuses on understanding others’ experiences while adding depth by including the researcher’s perspective.

I gathered Em’s data through an online survey, email-based conversations, and my own field notes. The vivid and emotional imagery in her story comes directly from her, reflecting the challenges of her PhD journey. To ensure the analysis was trustworthy, I cross-checked information from the survey, emails, and my experiences, with Em actively helping to interpret the data and providing additional context where needed. This means Em and I worked together to shape the insights, turning what started as a survey into a collaborative and ongoing conversation.

I collected my own data using a simple reflective approach, starting with recorded Zoom conversations with myself. As I wrote the manuscript, I kept reflecting on my thoughts and feelings about the experiences I was describing. This process brought back memories from my childhood that shaped my identity, helping me connect more deeply with my experiences and Em’s story. Em’s vulnerability also pushed me to think more critically about my own time in academia. I even talked with my family to confirm my memories and reviewed old documents, like leave applications and my thesis examiner reports. Finally, I looked back at my field notes to add richer context to Em’s responses.

So what did I find? Reflecting on my PhD journey, I can see how the challenges I faced shaped my academic identity. A lab accident left me with a severe allergy, forcing me to change the focus of my research and teaching. Later, a serious injury required months of recovery and even learning to walk again. Despite these setbacks, I adapted and managed to complete my PhD in under four years with the support of my supervisors and family. These experiences tested my resilience and resourcefulness, but my strong sense of purpose and hope kept me moving toward my goal of becoming a university lecturer. My upbringing played a key role, as my parents encouraged my love for learning from an early age, which gave me confidence in my ability to succeed.

These formative experiences, along with my faith and a strong sense of identity, gave me the optimism and determination to overcome adversity. The challenges I faced during my PhD also sparked my interest in improving doctoral education, particularly in addressing the mental health struggles many students experience. I believe it’s crucial to create academic environments that nurture hope, resilience, and a sense of belonging. By doing so, we can help future researchers thrive and transform academia into a more inclusive and supportive space.

Em’s PhD journey highlights the immense challenges she faced as an international student in Australia. Passionate about her research topic, Em began her doctoral studies with optimism but soon encountered significant psychological distress. Her struggles included isolation, pressure to publish, and concern over her ability to secure research funding. At one point, her mental health deteriorated so severely that she experienced frequent panic attacks, leaving her physically and emotionally exhausted. Despite these challenges, Em initially avoided seeking help due to the stigma surrounding mental illness and fear of being judged, particularly within her cultural and religious circles.

Over time, Em reached a turning point when she realised her wellbeing was essential for completing her PhD. This shift in mindset helped her prioritise self-care and develop strategies to manage her mental health while continuing her studies. She described the process as steering a small boat through stormy seas, learning new skills along the way to stabilise her journey. Em found support in her faith, her curiosity for her research, and a growing sense of compassion for herself. Importantly, she began sharing her struggles with fellow PhD students, discovering a sense of community and mutual encouragement that helped her regain resilience and optimism. By sharing her story, Em not only found strength in vulnerability but also highlighted the importance of creating spaces where PhD students can thrive despite the challenges inherent in academia.

What can we learn from this? First, we need to create supportive spaces where students can connect and collaborate—like writing groups that foster not just skills but also a sense of belonging. Second, we need to reframe adversity as an opportunity for growth. By sharing our own challenges as educators, we can model resilience and show that failure is part of the process.

Lastly, let’s normalise seeking help. Supervisors should have open, honest conversations about mental health and encourage students to access professional support when needed. Resilience isn’t about enduring hardship alone—it’s about having the tools and support to bounce back stronger.

PhDs are tough, but they don’t have to be isolating. By fostering hope, resilience, and optimism, we can create an academic environment where students don’t just survive—they thrive. Thank you for watching, and let’s keep working together to make academia a more inclusive and supportive space.

Questions to ponder

What role does cultural and societal stigma play in preventing students like Em from seeking help, and how can institutions effectively counteract these barriers?

In what ways can the researcher’s own reflections and personal journey add value to the study’s insights, and how might this influence the interpretation of participants’ experiences?

What specific steps can universities take to normalise discussions about mental health and integrate support systems that build resilience and community among PhD students?