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I spend a lot of time with myself, and that’s purely by choice. As an introvert, I enjoy my own company, where I build stories, draw imaginary characters, do soulful conversations inside my head, which somewhere seep into my writing also. But since I started working on my PhD I have been spending way more time with myself than before, which didn’t pan out the way I thought it should. Let me explain what exactly happened…

As a PhD scholar, I require deep focus hours to draw inferences in my work — which means spending countless hours with myself. Initially, it was a bit uncomfortable frankly, as I could sense the fidgetiness in me. My mind would start wandering to unknown places in between deep reading and writing sessions, which certainly was affecting my work. It was weird to know that I disliked certain things about myself which I wasn’t even aware before I started the PhD.

So here I was, with myself, sitting and wondering how to solve this creepy, weird feeling — where I needed to strike a conversation with my brain in my brain. One of my initial conversations sounded something like this —

Me: So what is that you need, to calm down and sit at one place? Try and understand that I need you to focus longer so that together we are able to pull it off — you know I cannot do it without you..

My brain: Well, you see the problem is you are expecting me to suddenly understand things which are new to me without giving me any training whatsoever, as to how to go about it. I am not used to be with you with such focus as we haven’t done this for ages. We only do a task which has been given to us, finish it and move on to the next. We never sit with it.

Me: What does this mean? I am unable to understand…

My brain: See, since I remember, you have been feeding things to me and asked me to process them fast so that we deliver the work on time. Now suddenly, you are asking me to sit with it and I have no idea how to go about it.

Me: Oh damn.. I don’t know what gibberish you are talking. I don’t think we can do this discussion.

Failing to strike a productive conversation with my brain, I returned back to my desk every morning, feeling frustrated while trying to figure out how to go about it. Then one day, on my nature walks, that same conversation came back to me, and then it hit what my mind was telling me to do.

It meant — you never taught me to slow down. We were always moving so fast that it got used to that pace and only did things which were shared with it. Now I was asking it to start from scratch, while slowing down, and also trying to make sure that we stay focused for a longer time. It was too much to ask for, without a proper training.

I felt embarrassed and sorry for not understanding this about myself. I realized there were so many things I never knew which were required as a PhD scholar or someone who requires long hours of focus work like a writer, coder, dancer or maybe a sushi chef.

I never knew …

All these tasks sound lame, but in our daily lives, we forget to address them and flow with the flow (technically). What we don’t realize is that our brains are wired in a certain manner and the moment we deviate from the routine processes, it does not get re-wired automatically. Instead, it requires time to process the changes happening around and understand the importance of small activities including focus, disconnect and reconnect.

When we are multitasking our brains engage in what is called task switching, which means we spend less time focused on any one task, and our attention continually shifts between competing demands. But what was required in the PhD was sustained cognitive engagement, the ability to remain with a single question long enough for deeper understanding to emerge. And that’s why my brain was struggling to get acclimatized with the shift in the attention causing a discomfort.

So how did I fix this issue?

For me nature walks were magical — they helped me slow down and immerse myself in the moment. Once I’m in nature, the noise around me simply disappears. I get completely absorbed in noticing the tiniest details—the way sunlight filters through a leaf, revealing its hidden patterns, or the dew resting on a spider’s web like a string of pearls.

To truly appreciate nature, I needed to spend time with it. I would observe the smallest details and then go down a rabbit hole, researching the flower or tree in front of me. It made me realize that all I really needed was to train my brain to enter a state of focus, temporarily disconnecting from the rest of the world.

So now, every time I picked up my researcher lens, I was simply trying to discover something new with the same curiosity I bring to nature. I was then able to slow down, at the required pace, and step by step complete each task which also ensured I do not feel overwhelmed and remain grounded in the research process.

Of course, this also meant I needed to give my brain enough time from task switching ——> sustained cognitive engagement. I filled this time with doing my creative tasks including ideating, writing, drawing or simply reading as a healthy breather for the brain. So here I was with a simple formula which works like magic most of the time — the flow ensures my brain knows what’s coming next and it prepares itself for the task ahead.

Regular tasks (including personal/professional requiring task switching)

Creative tasks (ideating, writing, drawing or simply reading)

PhD work (Sustained cognitive engagement)

This whole exercise took a couple of months before I finally understood this way of working and learned how to slip into that state of focus whenever I needed it. I had figured out a way to spend more quality time with myself without losing my sanity. Of course, I still loved the crazy side of me that effortlessly manages task switching.

Do try out this trick and let me know if it works for you. Or if you have any similar survival hacks I would love to know.

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Till the next post —

Creatively yours,

Parul Kapoor ❤️

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✨Exploring the intersection of creativity, consciousness, and wander — documenting my journey as a creative seeking a soulful, intentional life.✨

There is a new kid on the block which is a real attention seeker. It requires my undivided attention, does not like being ignored for long and seems to have this bad habit of taking up a large space in my head. As a result, most days my head is constantly heavy from its weight, like a giant rock balanced on a tiny fulcrum. Although, I do like having it around, but there are days I wonder why I signed up for something with such a tough temperament. I’m talking about my PhD which, lately, seems to have slipped into almost everything I write and talk about.

It is that child which I would want to boast about, as it brings me accolades and appreciation. It has made me change the way I think, perceive, create and even connect. It did turn my life upside down, but in a happy sense.

But at the same time, its becoming ie. long reading and writing hours, innumerable drafts, countless edits, all that back-and-forth, is somehow leaving me exhausted and drained. Even the basic daily chores start to appear like a steep climb uphill.

Gone are those days when I would enjoy sipping morning tea, lazying on the couch while flipping the weekend magazine newspaper at my own pace. Instead, I now find myself sitting at the study desk in the early morning hours, struggling to finish the colossal tasks which includes report writing, making presentations, data assimilation, sorting and filling in the gaps.

I don’t think I realized earlier how much of a luxury time really is. These days, my mind is always on the next thing to get done while also being a full-time professional, a mother, a partner, and running a home. And that’s when it feels like I am racing against time.

When I watch the sand fall down in the timer kept next to my work desk, all I want is gravity to pause for a while, so that I get more than 24 hours in my day to work.

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The older we get, the harder it is to not know

As an adult, I feel we do not know how to shift priorities flexibly and make way for new things. We have become so rigid with our routines, that even a slight change in our cluttered daily schedules, disrupts our own lives, and also creates ripple effects into those around us. It sends us into rollercoaster mood swings where it tends to go into all directions — horizontal, vertical, diagonal and even tangential in some cases — leaving pretty much no one around us safe from the fallout.

That’s when I am reminded of the childhood times, when our parents woke us on early mornings and plonked us into the backseat of the car, without giving us details of our upcoming adventures. And we didn’t seem to care much, as there wasn’t anything to care for!

The silent child in the backseat

If anything that has saved me from this madness of juggling, shifting, sulking and adjusting priorities, it has been writing. It was never a hobby or a side activity but an intrinsic part of me — which knew me deep inside, more than I knew myself.

It knew how to caress me when I felt shattered

It knew how to calm me when I was overwhelmed

It knew how to listen to me like a therapist

It knew how to help me express my unspoken words

It knew how to connect me with strangers

It knew how to shape my muddled thoughts into tangible forms

It knew how to untangle the hardest knots

It knew when it was time for me to pause

It knew when to feed me with wisdom

And it also knew when to tone me down

I tend to throw in all my miseries, cribbing, confusion and venting— and all it does is grant me — CLARITY.

I think I need writing now more than ever—so I don’t forget that every child will one day grow and find their wings, and perhaps even make us proud of all those early morning hours we quietly stole from our lazy weekends.

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Till the next post —

Creatively yours,

Parul Kapoor ❤️

Hello and welcome to,

✨A newsletter on Creative thinking & living. A safe space to embrace the power of Creativity✨

Some connections are ephemeral, some transitional, some momentary and some divine-like. Every connection brings different emotion with it — while some make us feel safe, some appear very intimidating and thus their existence is questioned time and again. But I have realized over the period of time that every connection, be it therapeutic or be it toxic, brings some learning for us. And this is what happened with such a connection which I never imagined would have a colossal impact on me.

I would only meet her once or twice in six months, the time period which requires us to brace up, work through, dig into vast amounts of data and other such deep stuff and then come up with some sort of theory which might have never been theorized before. These meetings were pretty formal — a greeting, then straightforward discussion and then a goodbye with a reminder to meet soon after some heavy duty work.

But early in this year, something changed in the way I met her. It was like meeting a therapist who would tell you things you knew maybe or wanted to listen to, but coming from her — felt like cathartic.

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I waited outside her room restlessly, while pacing the narrow, windowless corridor which allows only one person to pass through at a time. 15 minutes felt like eternity and my stomach churned acid at the speed of 100km/sec (if that is even possible). While I was pacing up and down, I was trying to build a narrative to the forthcoming conversation, which I had been avoiding for days & weeks. But now I could not linger more, as it was due date. As the door opened, I saw her sitting on the chair with short grey hair, and that calm face. I always wondered how she managed to maintain a sense of calmness, even in pressing situations; an art I have been trying to learn for long and its taking eternity to ace it.

As I greeted her and sat down, I could feel the acid doing whirlpools inside my gut. I tried not to appear perturbed, but I suck at making a poker face. The conversation started with how life is in general, at work etc. and then suddenly the dreaded question — “So where are we?”

I forgot the narrative which I was building all these days, and blurted out honestly. “I think I would like to leave”. She sounded hurt, but appeared calm (as usual). With a faint smile, she asked — “But I thought we were back”. To this I replied, “I also thought so, but every time I take a step forward, I feel a force pulling me back. It’s as if something is stopping me from going ahead with it”. Then she asked me the most unanticipated question — “Will you regret it?”. I paused and replied — “Not really, as these 5 years have given me a lot which I am grateful for”. She looked into the other side of the room and paused. I tried to shift my attention to the surroundings in the room. A hand-painted portrait of her, with a yellow backdrop and a circular frame, hangs quietly on the wall behind her. It looks like an animated version of her—but with that same calm, familiar energy. She then went on to ask — “ You look sad, hope everything is alright?”. I felt embarrassed, as she could easily decode my inner thoughts with my facial expressions. I sheepishly responded — “No no, I am not sad, it’s just that it feels too overwhelming to be in a state where I feel dismal and useless. It feels claustrophobic at times, almost like I am choking. I think it’s too much for me, and I won’t be able to take it now, so I would like to exit gracefully. I know we decided we will give it a try, and I did try for almost 3 months to get back, but I just don’t see it happening”. Again a pause. This time it felt like a stab in the chest. The silence for seconds reverberated her room, full of books, files and other academic stuff. I could feel the sweat trickle down my forehead in the wintery month, and I wished I did not have the jacket on. What came next changed the course of the whole conversation and also shifted something inside me. She calmly asked — “ How can I help you?” I sat there in amazement, listening to her and wondering to myself — “God has been very kind to me lately, but this felt surreal. It feels like an unseen energy hovering above and trying to protect me from the inner demons who have been slaying my morale. On one side it’s the foolish me, trying to run away from something I have invested years in, with all the sweat, energy and time; and on the other side she sat, calmly listening to my sheepish blabbering, and offering me comfort”. I could only feel gratitude in those split seconds, but it wasn’t enough for me to process those thoughts through my amygdala and then through my prefrontal cortex. It was as if I had already gone into a fight and flight mode, wherein I did not know how to react, and thus sat their clueless and expressionless. Somehow the silly narrative I had built decided to hit me just at the wrong time, and I spoke the damn words. “So how do we close it”? She asked me to drop a formal mail so that we could discuss it with others in the meeting next week. We exchanged some warm words with a small hug, and closed the interaction. My chest felt heavy, like a chunk of concrete pressing me into stillness.

The next morning, I sat at my work desk to draft the mail for my withdrawal while staring at the blank screen. It was probably the first time my hands trembled to write something and I could hear my own voice in the head which said —

“What have I done? What have I been doing? I have invested 5+ years into this Ph.D and I casually walked to my advisor to tell her that I want to quit as I felt overwhelmed. And there she sat quietly, listening like a shrink”. I felt stupid, embarrassed, idiotic and dumb at the same time. I wiped the trickling tears rolling down my face, while making sure no one watched me at the workplace. Suddenly, an adrenaline rush took over and the past 5 years came flashing by. I could revisit the tireless readings, writing, discussions, documentations, presentations — and suddenly it all made sense. It was like someone had opened the door for me, which got shut for long, as my inner conflicts were not ready to cross through it. The connection finally clicked in a completely different way. It felt like divinity whispering, “It’s time to give your best”—and really, who better to receive that message than my PhD advisor?

I opened my mail and quickly jotted the points I needed to prepare for the upcoming meeting for my doctoral thesis bi-annual review. In an instant, I could sense the gravity shift, making me feel lighter , and all I wanted was to sprint into action. I thanked my God, for bringing this sense of life back to me, where I felt like myself after such a long time.

It felt blessed to be acknowledged by someone, whom I was ready to forgo. I felt a sense of responsibility to my work, to this person and to the new connection that we had built over this conversation — and I pledged to myself that I would make both of us proud. It felt like homecoming!

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The above essay is part of a series titled Connections/company by the Delhi NCR Substack Group. It was very tough to write this essay, but that’s the essence of writing — to bring out the best and the worst in you. I always find words as my outlet which help me release so many emotions. Some might disagree with me on sharing such personal thoughts in the form a public essay as it releases our vulnerable side, but then we are all human and I don’t feel the need to fit into any mould — as I have found myself after a very long time and with loads of effort. Therefore, to anyone reading this, I would only say one thing —

Till the next post —

Creatively yours,

Parul Kapoor ❤️

Other essays from fellow writers:

1. When strangers feel like friends by

2. Story of Delhi NCR Substack group by

3. On my Love for Chai by

4. Connection in the time of Parasocial everything by

5. Cuts, scrapes, and a theory of personhood by

✨A newsletter on Creative thinking & living. A safe space to embrace the power of Creativity✨

I’ve been carrying stories from my Ph.D. journey for years and now I feel ready to share a few of them in the hope that they help someone who’s in search of wisdom from a first-hand experience.

Let’s admit. A Ph.D. research is tough. It’s a long, treacherous road, with no signages, wayfinding or guiding lights initially, but a faint track to walk upon, without knowing what lies on either side of the road. It’s like a valley filled with heavy clouds which have descended on the path leaving a trail and some supplements to survive the road ahead. It’s up to us how we navigate and consume them in the long run.

It’s not easy to keep walking a path so uncertain, where you can’t tell if you’ll ever reach the destination. And you know what’s the worst part? To try and walk back from where you started, as we have undertaken a long, tiresome, lonely journey already, and now we wonder while standing at a fork road,

“Should I move ahead, or turn back? Did I make a mistake walking on this path, knowing that it would be one of the toughest life journey’s?”

Well, the answer will vary for every individual, but let me tell you one constant — this question crosses almost every Ph.D. scholars mind once in their journey, and that is when the real test of time begins.

This essay although doesn’t focus on the hardships, but on the life lessons that have shaped and are still shaping my journey as a PhD scholar. Some of them might sound simple, but when you are trying to balance your normal day-to-day life while walking on an unknown terrain, you need to brace yourself strong.

1. Stay focused and disciplined courage will follow

What if I were to tell you the #1 trait to survive this journey is not being courageous but being disciplined and focused. Since it’s a long battle, one needs to ensure they have some sort of system in place to maintain an everyday routine. Even if it’s spending a few minutes contemplating the next step in the journey, you are in sync. Our brains thrive on repetition and sensory engagement. When we feed our brain with bits of information about our goals through daily practices involving feeling, hearing, writing or touching our goals, we strengthen the neural pathways tied to our goals. Without this constant engagement the mental image we are building, will either be blurred or lost.

Tip: I would take small notes about my research into my notebook, so that any mental thought coming to my mind would not be lost and I am able to recover it once I sit down to do focused work. These tiny bits of information are the plugs which would bridge the gaps between topics which might seem unrelated at first.

2. It might feel lonely, but this is your path to walk. Trust yourself

In this journey, mostly you would be walking all by yourself. There would be occasional times when you will meet some companions in the form of mentors, guides and friends but majority of the path needs to be covered alone. If you happen to trust yourself, this arduous path will start to feel more like an adventure where all you need to do is keep your spirits up. There might be places where the terrain would seem rough or patchy, but then no journey is linear. For these times, remember the tips and tricks taught to you by the companions you met on your way uphill. Also, this is the time to know yourself deeper, as you are immersing hands on in a lifetime experience which is likely to shape you in ways deeper than you think. Be prepared to be bruised, chiseled and sculpted to become better versions of yourself.

Tip: As I came to accept that much of this path must be walked alone, I realized it’s my own consciousness that will guide me forward. To stay focused, I keep positive affirmations on my desk which are quiet reminders that even though the journey is not easy, it holds deep meaning.

3. Keep going. No one else needs to get it

The whole concept of a Ph. D research is to discover something unknown. And thus, it becomes a challenge to channelize our emotions as the research take its own time to develop. In this process, we might become overwhelmed and lean to others for validation or to seek solace, while expecting that they understand the turmoil we go through. Building such expectations would always leave us disheartened, as no one else can feel this journey as much as we do. The pain, sweat and hard work cannot be imagined leave alone acknowledged by anyone other than ourselves. Therefore, I would suggest that keep moving, without seeking for validation or comfort as you would only invite a heartbreak.

Tip: To release the build-up of heavy emotions, I pour my heart out through reflective writing, where I document my inner thoughts and emotions when I feel down. I do not do it with an intention of seeking answers, rather with the idea of decluttering my mind to ensure I make space for clarity and focus. Journaling helps; it doesn’t judge, just quietly holds whenever I need to let out, especially when no one else feels available or trustworthy. It’s only my thoughts, a pen and a paper — and the job is done! Of course, it does not mean do not look for support, but for me writing helps immensely.

4. The journey teaches more than the destination ever will

When we seek the unknown, we do not have any roadmap with us, and thus the journey cannot be planned. But if we can give shape to this path by layering it with the skills we learn, the wisdom we gather, the perseverance we build, and the passion we nurture—it starts to feel more fluid, meaningful, and even joyful. Many research are open-ended ie. they do not intend to draw conclusions, but rather are exploratory in nature, thus they might not have a result, but draw upon the researcher’s wisdom and observation. While we do intend to finish it with a sturdy conclusion of some sorts, I would suggest build a strong foundation ie. the process which has led to the conclusion as that would become the stepping stone to move forward. Also, it’s important to stay open through the process, because it will test your patience. Changes may come you way that completely shift the direction of your work—and that can feel overwhelming at times.

Tip: I made this habit that any change in direction that came my way, I took it up as a challenge rather than a setback. I went back to my base ie. from where I started and looked for emerging patterns. This process helped me stay away from feeling overwhelmed as I soon realized that I had been building on a body of work all the way along and that reflected in my future learnings as it was always the process of shaping, reshaping and presenting which made it authentic and valuable.

5. Observation is a quiet superpower

Remember as a child you used to observe small insects in the park? Or quietly listen in on the conversations adults had around you? While you were doing this unintentionally, your brain was collecting tiny bits of information and storing it for later use. Similarly, treat the research as the playground where you need to observe tiny bits of information which might otherwise seem irrelevant, but can add as plugs to scattered pieces of information. They could come in form of data, conversations, silence, ignorance or even decline from an interview call. Every bit of action, information, data has a meaning and our job as a researcher is to decode that information to be fed into our metadata. And observation is best done quietly and discreetly. Think Sherlock Holmes!

Tip: I learnt to become a daily observer from conversations, texts and sometimes even body language. This habit trained my mind in a way to not miss minute details which might otherwise be easily ignored by the brain. This practice helped me track subtle details, break them down, and draw out the information most useful for my research work

Eventually, we all go on to complete our tasks and move on to the next projects. But the real thrill lies in learning new things through the process and understanding the nuances within, which make each journey unique yet interesting.

I intend to do more writing around my learnings and experiences from this phase of my life as it has shaped me differently and I owe a lot to it.

Do you have such life altering experiences which have shaped you as a person? I would love to listen and connect. After all we are all living the journey called Life.

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Creatively yours,

Parul ❤️