Schlossberg’s Transition Theory
Looking back at my PhD
Years ago, when I began my PhD work, I had very little idea about how I was stepping into one of the most significant transitions of my life. It wasn’t just an academic milestone—it was a full-scale upheaval of my routines, identity, and assumptions about what it meant to be a student again. Looking back now, I can see how Nancy Schlossberg’s Transition Theory1 perfectly encapsulates the rollercoaster of change that my cohort and I experienced.
Schlossberg defines a transition as any event or non-event that results in a change in relationships, routines, assumptions, or roles. At the time, I didn’t have the language to describe what was happening, but I certainly felt the shift.
From the moment I was accepted into the program, my world transformed. I went from a structured, predictable life to one filled with new people, a heavier workload, and multiple simultaneous roles: student, academic colleague, researcher, and teaching assistant. I wasn’t alone in this transformation—my fellow students, my cohort, were navigating the same choppy waters, each in their own unique way.
The first year was pure survival mode. The sheer volume of readings, assignments, and new expectations was daunting. Some of us adapted quickly, while others struggled with imposter syndrome, burnout, or simply feeling lost. But as time passed, we found our footing. Schlossberg’s model emphasizes that each transition is shaped by an individual’s assets and liabilities—their personal strengths and challenges. And indeed, each of us handled the shift differently, depending on our previous experiences, support systems, and ability to cope with change.
For me, the transition was both overwhelming and unusually abrupt. One summer day, while working on a research project, a principal investigator mentioned that a new PhD program had just opened up and encouraged me to apply. The catch? The deadline was in 72 hours.
What followed was a mad scramble: I took the GED the next morning, filled out numerous forms, hastily put together a CV, and begged for letters of recommendation. It was a whirlwind, but somehow, everything fell into place.
At the time, it felt chaotic and unconsidered, but in hindsight, I realize I had more control than I thought. Maybe it helped that I had gone through major life changes before—this wasn’t my first time stepping into a new role. Instead of fear, I felt exhilaration. The challenge was exciting, and I was ready to dive in.
The Role of Self in Transition
Schlossberg’s theory also emphasizes the role of self in navigating transitions. How we see ourselves—our age, gender, life experiences, and coping mechanisms—affects how we handle change.
In my case, I was older than most of my full-time peers and of a different gender. Surprisingly, these factors didn’t weigh heavily on my mind. Instead, I leaned into my experience. I had developed resilience over the years, along with a strong commitment to education and personal growth. I knew how to persevere, and that made all the difference.
The Power of Support
One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned is the importance of having a solid support system. I was (and am) fortunate to have an incredible family—my parents and sister, wife and children—who, despite getting less time with me during my studies, were unwavering in their encouragement.
Support also came from the program itself. Being part of the first-ever cohort in a brand-new PhD program had its downsides—there was no precedent, no roadmap—but it also had a unique advantage: the faculty and staff were deeply invested in our success. They wanted us to thrive because our achievements would set the foundation for the program’s future. That kind of focused support is rare, and I appreciated it then and am grateful for it still.
By the third semester, we had all developed our own strategies for survival. Some moved to new cities, others juggled second jobs (and then quit them), some switched advisors, and many took on extra coursework. Each of us figured out what worked for us.
For me, it boiled down to three things:
Routine – Establishing a daily rhythm helped me manage the workload and maintain a sense of normalcy.
Sleep – I quickly learned that burning the midnight oil wasn’t sustainable. Prioritizing rest improved my focus and overall well-being.
Perspective – Taking time to appreciate the process and use breaks for independent study allowed me to see the bigger picture.
Looking Back
Now, with many years between me and my PhD days, I can say with confidence that the transition was a defining period in my life. The experience shaped me into a more capable scholar, thinker, and problem solver. But most importantly, it taught me that transitions don’t stop with a degree—they are (and probably ought to be) a lifelong phenomenon.
Schlossberg’s insights remain just as relevant today as they were when I was navigating my doctoral journey. Whether it’s a career change, a personal shift, or another unexpected turn in life, the same principles apply: embrace the change, trust your ability to adapt, and never underestimate the power of support and strategy.
To those who are embarking on their own PhD journey—or any major transition—I offer this: change is inevitable, but growth is optional. Choose to grow, and you’ll emerge from the transition stronger than you ever imagined.