What If the Real Milestones Happen Quietly?

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Valisneria Utami is a second year PGR in the School of Education reflecting on the messy, quiet, and evolving process of learning.

As a second-year PGR, I completed my Annual Progress Review (APR) last May. This achievement prompted me to think more critically about what milestones truly represent in my journey. Rather than seeing each APR as an endpoint or the sole measure of progress, I began to focus on the continuous process of doing a PhD, especially its less visible elements.

I once believed that PhD milestones were the visible achievements of this process, such as presentations, conferences, and publications. They were grand, measurable indicators of progress. I thought these moments clearly marked advancement and were easy for others to recognise because they looked impressive. However, as time passed, I came to understand that behind these visible accomplishments lay much deeper aspects I had initially overlooked.

The Progress Others Cannot See

What those achievements did not show was the struggle underneath them. As I continued my PhD journey, I slowly realised that people start from very different points, bringing varying levels of confidence, preparation, experience, and self-belief. As a result, milestones cannot always be measured fairly by the same external standards. What looks like simple progress from the outside may involve a far more complicated story on the inside. For me, the hidden part of the journey was often confusion and self-doubt. Behind the image of progress was also the quiet effort to trust myself, keep learning, and continue moving forward even when I did not feel certain. This made me question whether milestones were only about achievements that others could see.

Making Space for Confusion

One real milestone for me was allowing myself to feel confused and accepting that “learning takes time”. This sounds simple now, but it was not easy for me at all. At the beginning of my PhD, I often felt that confusion meant I was not good enough. My background as a former English teacher and an early-career researcher in my home country made me feel I should have known more than I did. I expected to understand things quickly, especially in research and philosophy. As a result, confusion did not feel like a normal part of learning. It felt like evidence of weakness. Over time, however, I began to realise that confusion is not failure, that learning is slow, and that not knowing is part of research. This became a milestone because it changed how I viewed myself as a learner. It taught me to be more patient with myself and to see rest as part of learning, not a sign of weakness. As a result, I focused less on proving myself and became more willing to trust the process, even when it felt unclear.

Learning to Protect My Energy

Learning to safeguard my energy and understand my limits was another major milestone for me. At first, I didn't always realise how much pressure I was putting on myself. I believed that to advance, I needed to keep pushing, reading, thinking, and producing continuously. Over time, I came to understand that this approach was unsustainable. Protecting my energy involved becoming more aware of my body and mind, prioritising what truly matters, and being kinder to my capacity. It meant accepting that I could not do everything at once, and that not every productive moment needed to be intense or exhausting. This helped reduce some of my self-imposed pressure and fostered self-compassion. It reminded me that progress doesn't require constant pushing, and that being gentle with myself lets me move forward in a healthier, more sustainable way.

All in all, to me, milestones are no longer only visible accomplishments, but also the quiet internal progress that shapes who I am becoming. They can be the moments when I learn patience, when I stop measuring myself only through external success, or when I treat myself with more care and honesty. Perhaps that is what makes them meaningful. My understanding of milestones is not complete or fixed. It keeps evolving as I learn, rest, and grow.