Three PhD researchers on the hidden loneliness of fieldwork, and how they navigated it

Written by: Queenie Nwariaku, Gabrielle Hemmings, Yannick Gibson

At the start of our PhDs, we were told it might feel lonely. What we did not realise then was that loneliness is not just about being physically alone. It can be structural, cultural, mental, or even systemic. It shows up as anxiety, as self-doubt, as the subtle comparisons we make with others who seem to be coping better or progressing faster.

Fieldwork can intensify these feelings. It often takes us away from familiar support networks and routines, placing us in new environments where we are expected to adapt quickly and work independently. Whether that is navigating unfamiliar spaces, building connections from scratch, or managing the pressure to produce meaningful research, the experience can be both exciting and isolating.

We are three PhD students at different stages of our research journeys, and in this piece, we share our experiences of loneliness during fieldwork. Through our stories, and the moments we do not often talk about, we hope to normalise these feelings, offer honest reflections, and remind others that even in those quieter, more difficult moments, you are not alone.

Queenie - International Development Department

I travelled to Nigeria for my fieldwork in October 2026, excited to be going “home” and believing it would hold me and make the experience feel softer and easier.

But when I arrived, something had shifted. Or maybe I had. Home no longer recognised me, and I was not sure I recognised it either.

I was in a different state, away from my actual hometown, surrounded by people who did not know me. And even when I went to my hometown, the friends I once had had moved on, or moved away. The familiarity I expected was not there. It was just me, my voice recorder, power bank, and field notes.

Loneliness in fieldwork is one thing, but loneliness at home is something else entirely. You do not expect it. You could be surrounded by people and still feel invisible. It showed up quietly for me: in the question of whether I still fit, and the unsettling realisation that the place I called home no longer held me in the same way.

What carried me through was the life I had built in Birmingham. The community I had formed became my anchor, through calls, messages, and shared moments across distance.

Because sometimes, home is not a place. It is the people who remind you that you are not alone.

Gabrielle – International Development Department

Queenie’s experience reflects one kind of loneliness, but it can also show up through unexpected disruption. Like her, I went home (Jamaica) to do an ethnographic study for my fieldwork.

Before leaving for fieldwork, I went through the risk assessment process, noting that my travel time would fall towards the end of the hurricane season, but as someone Jamaican-born and raised, I was not new to this.

Two weeks into fieldwork, Hurricane Melissa hit. Nothing could have prepared me for this unprecedented and devastating disaster. Thankfully, I was not physically alone - I was with family. Yet mentally, and perhaps culturally, I had never felt more isolated. Even as I spoke with other friends on fieldwork about the struggles of research, they could not relate to my new reality in Jamaica.

Here I was, in a country I called home, that no longer resembled the home I knew. Our island was devastated, and we were - and still are - grappling to pick up the pieces. As we all rallied to rebuild, those around me could not fully understand the added pressure of continuing fieldwork during crisis. At the same time, my research felt even more urgent, as questions about Caribbean development in the face of climate change became impossible to ignore.

Checking in with my supervisors really helped me to adapt to my new reality. They reminded me that while the unexpected may happen on fieldwork, it is part of the process and that strength often lies in how we respond to it.

Yannick - Birmingham Business School

For me, loneliness in fieldwork was not about place, but about pace and feeling out of step with everyone else. My fieldwork, which included ethnographic observations, involved trips to islands within the Caribbean region, including The Bahamas, Jamaica, and Barbados.

PhD life can already feel isolating, but academia itself can also be highly competitive. As a PGR, it can be difficult to balance building a sense of community while everyone navigates their own version of imposter syndrome. What makes this more complex is that everyone’s journey is different, and sometimes it is not easy to remember that.

On the advice of my supervisors, I undertook my fieldwork before the end of my first year, while many other PGRs were still refining their project or literature scope. This immediately set me apart from my peers, and the challenges I faced were not always ones they could relate to or advise on.

So, this amplified my own uncertainties: What if I don’t ask the right questions? What if I don’t get enough participants? Was I really ready to undertake this?

I shared these concerns with my supervisors, who reminded me that, even if I was at a different stage, the fears and challenges were still similar, and that a major part of research is “becoming comfortable with being uncomfortable”. They reassured me that they would be available while I was abroad - and they were. As I struggled, I was also encouraged to utilise the University’s Wellbeing Resources.

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Together, our stories show that loneliness in fieldwork does not always look the same. It can exist at home, in crisis, or even in progress and comparison. Yet, what helped us, in different ways, was connection: with peers, supervisors, and wider University support.

Wherever your research takes you, remember that you are still part of the UoB community. If you are struggling, consider reaching out to University Doctoral School wellbeing services or exploring the Time to Talk Intranet pages.

You do not have to navigate the loneliness of fieldwork on your own.