I never considered myself a quitter. Usually, I finish what I have started: a 30 minutes high intensity workout after the Christmas holidays for example or the extended version of the third Lord of the Rings movie, also a bachelor program in environmental science and a master in marine science in Kiel. It’s not like it wasn’t painful sometimes, it’s not like I never had doubts – but somehow, I could always convince myself to keep going instead of giving up.
Not so with my PhD in coastal science. I started in 2020 and quit three years later – way before I crossed the finish line. This post is neither meant to justify why I ended my science career nor is it meant to encourage you to do the same. I rather want to share some life lessons that I have learned before, during and after quitting.
1. Quitting your PhD is not the same as giving up
It is a matter of phrasing: I’d rather say I “quit” my PhD instead of “giving it up”. Why? Well, saying I “gave up” gives a bad vibe, doesn’t it? It implies that I wasn’t capable of finishing – which I don’t think is true. Yes, sometimes I felt overwhelmed and not capable. But with the right motivation, focus, support, and more time, I am sure I could have managed. So, I prefer the term “quitting”. It means, that I made a conscious decision to leave this career path and find one that suits me better. Close one door, open another one – you know the game.
2. Making the right decisions is hard
Of course, the decision to quit wasn’t easy and is the result of a long and complex process of evaluating emotions, thoughts, conversations, facts and dreams. But when I finally made up my mind, It didn’t feel like a failure but like instant relief – as if I had made the right choice.
The hardest part was to communicate my “right choice” to others in the science community. Looking into puzzled faces, explaining why I no longer wanted to do the job they all love so much, justifying why I was “throwing it all away” although I had “already come so far” – all of that is tough. It makes you rethink everything over and over again, it makes you feel their disappointment and maybe even makes you doubt the decision, that felt so right before.
Of course, the decision to quit wasn’t easy and is the result of a long and complex process of evaluating emotions, thoughts, conversations, facts and dreams. But when I finally made up my mind, It didn’t feel like a failure but like instant relief – as if I had made the right choice.
The hardest part was to communicate my “right choice” to others in the science community. Looking into puzzled faces, explaining why I no longer wanted to do the job they all love so much, justifying why I was “throwing it all away” although I had “already come so far” – all of that is tough. It makes you rethink everything over and over again, it makes you feel their disappointment and maybe even makes you doubt the decision, that felt so right before.
Luckily, I have family and friends who don’t need any explanations or justifications but support me no matter what – a lesson I have already learned long ago but is always good to refresh.
3. Miss, don’t regret
Now – more than one year later – I still don’t regret leaving academia behind. I miss it, though. I miss learning about coastal science every day, I miss field surveys and research cruises, I miss discussions with colleagues and friends in the office (often not related to our science), miss moaning about our struggles together and empowering each other. I’m definitely a bit melancholic when I look back, but it doesn’t torment me, so it’s all good.
4. You don’t need to know what you want, but what you don’t want
Some might think quitting doesn’t get you anywhere. I disagree. Especially when it comes to tough decisions (and deciding about your career definitely falls into that category), I’ve always been a fan of the process of elimination. It might be slow but it is still progress.
In my case, I realized that the kind of work I did during my PhD was not the kind of work that would fulfil and excite me in the long run. So, I eliminated it. After taking a step back I realized that writing about and communicating science was always what I enjoyed the most. Not knowing exactly what to do with this great discovery, I applied to become a journalist with the local newspaper. Pretty spontaneous, pretty bold choice- but I got the job. It’s totally different from what I did before, but turns out, the writing and human interaction bring me joy and excitement.
So, is that what I want to be now – a local newspaper journalist? Well, I don’t know yet. What I know is that my elimination process led me to a profession that works better for me. So, step by step, I am moving forward, enjoying the journey, and excited to see what’s next.
5. Motivation is key
Truth be told: I could have jumped to conclusions much earlier. Instead, I waited for years to be brave or desperate enough to decide to quit my doctoral journey.
Throwback: In 2018 I submitted my master’s thesis. 160 painful pages of geological interpretations of continental shelf data. After that draining experience, I told myself not to consider starting a dissertation, as it would be even more exhausting.
But one thing led to another, I got several offers that would naturally lead into a PhD and therefore a scientific career. Thus, motivated by the opportunity and the challenge, I took up one of them. What was missing in my motivational cocktail was the actual intention of becoming a scientist.
And that leads me straight to my advice for everyone, who starts a PhD of their own: Before you sign up for it, check your intrinsic motivation. If you want to become a scientist, a PhD is your way to go. If you start the dissertation for other reasons (you just like the subject, it’s a good first job after Uni, it helps you to stay in the country) that is totally fair, too. But then don’t lose yourself and don’t be afraid to let it go.
6. The power of vulnerability
One lesson I just learned recently is the “power of vulnerability”. With this concept, the American social scientist and speaker Brené Brown states that showing vulnerability and communicating failure and struggle is not a weakness. Instead, it leads to innovation, creativity and real connection. Also (and I am sure many of you agree with that) it takes a lot of courage to expose your insecurities and emotions in front of a superior instead of playing professional and pretending everything is going as planned – especially as a woman in a patriarchal system.
Man, I wish I had known about Brown’s work during my PhD. If I had shared more struggles and asked for help more, things might have gone very differently (better, I guess).
Of course, that concept of communication can only work if superiors are open for it. But it is not their responsibility to implement it, but ours. As a new generation of employees, I am sure we can change the way of communicating and connecting in a work environment by showing more honesty and struggles from time to time. Its powerful.
The end is not the end
As I come to the end, I would like to emphasise once again: I don’t want to persuade anyone to quit their PhD. But maybe reading this post will help you learn from my mistakes and reflect on your own career. If it leads you into science or out of it – that really doesn’t matter.
Tanita
Between all the scientific work, we celebrated Easter on board, although the weather had other plans for us. Due to rough conditions, we weren’t able to carry out any CTD casts.
Easter itself was spent in a mix of rest and small celebrations. Some of us enjoyed a long Easter breakfast with traditional Easter bread, while others took the opportunity to sleep in. In the evening, we gathered with both crew and scientists for a small celebration. The ship’s cook even organized a quiz, and those who answered correctly were rewarded with Easter chocolate.
The next day, the weather improved, and we began early with the recovery of K1, a 3,495-meter-long mooring in the middle of the Labrador Sea.
We joined the nautical officers on the bridge before sunrise to search for it. Fortunately, K1 has a floating buoy with a light, so we were able to spot it even in the dark. The actual recovery started at first light, and it began to snow while we were working.
Amid all the CTDs and mooring operations, there was also a personal highlight: my (Sarah’s) birthday. Although I’ve spent birthdays away from home before, this one felt especially unique, being so far out at sea, with only limited internet contact.
Normally, I work the 4-8 shift, but my incredibly kind shift team gave me the morning off. That meant I could sleep in and even find time to call family and friends back home. In the afternoon, I was surprised with my favourite cake, baked by Julia.
Our work continued with the mooring array at 53°N, which consists of seven moorings. So far, we have recovered five (K7, K8, K9, DSOW1 and DSOW2), and three of them have already been redeployed (K7, K8 and DSOW1,).
Deploying K7 turned out to be particularly tricky. On our first attempt, sea ice drifted toward us faster than expected, forcing us to recover nearly half of the mooring again. While the ship itself can handle drifting ice, deploying a mooring is much more delicate: a long cable with instruments and floats is released behind the ship before the anchor is dropped, allowing the system to sink into place.
Two days later, we tried again and this time, the deployment was successful.
Afterwards, we moved closer to the sea ice, which was a highlight for many of us. Seeing the ice up close and even spotting a seal swimming nearby, made the experience unforgettable.
Due to the continuing harsh weather, the decision was made to return to K1 and make use of an upcoming weather window for deployment the following day.
German:
Zwischen Stürmen und Wissenschaft: Ostern in der Labradorsee (04.04.26 – 13.04.26)
Zwischen all der wissenschaftlichen Arbeit haben wir Ostern an Bord gefeiert, auch wenn das Wetter andere Pläne für uns hatte. Aufgrund der rauen Bedingungen konnten wir keine CTD-Messungen durchführen (Messungen von Leitfähigkeit, Temperatur und Tiefe im Ozean).
Ostern selbst war eine Mischung aus Erholung und kleinen Feierlichkeiten. Einige von uns genossen ein ausgedehntes Osterfrühstück mit traditionellem Osterbrot, während andere die Gelegenheit nutzten, etwas länger zu schlafen. Am Abend kamen Crew und Wissenschaftler*innen zu einer kleinen Feier zusammen. Der Koch organisierte sogar ein Quiz, und wer die Fragen richtig beantwortete, wurde mit Oster-Schokolade belohnt.
Am nächsten Tag besserte sich das Wetter, und wir begannen früh mit der Bergung von K1, einer 3.495 Meter langen Verankerung mitten in der Labradorsee. (Eine Verankerung ist eine lange, am Meeresboden befestigter Draht, der mit Instrumenten ausgestattet ist, um über längere Zeit Ozeandaten zu messen.)
Noch vor Sonnenaufgang gingen wir mit den nautischen Offizieren auf die Brücke, um nach ihr Ausschau zu halten. Glücklicherweise verfügt K1 über eine schwimmende Boje mit Licht, sodass wir sie bereits im Dunkeln entdecken konnten. Die eigentliche Bergung begann bei Tagesanbruch und es begann sogar zu schneien.
Zwischen all den CTD-Einsätzen und Verankerungsarbeiten gab es auch ein persönliches Highlight: meinen (Sarahs) Geburtstag. Obwohl ich schon öfter Geburtstage fernab von zu Hause verbracht habe, war dieser besonders, so weit draußen auf dem Meer und mit nur eingeschränktem Internetkontakt.
Normalerweise arbeite ich in der 4-8 Uhr Schicht, aber mein unglaublich nettes Schichtteam hat mir den Morgendienst freigegeben. So konnte ich etwas länger schlafen und hatte sogar Zeit, mit Familie und Freunden zu Hause zu telefonieren. Am Nachmittag wurde ich dann noch mit meinem Lieblingskuchen überrascht, den Julia für mich gebacken hat.
Unsere Arbeit ging weiter mit dem Verankerungs-Array bei 53°, das aus sieben Verankerungen besteht. Bisher haben wir fünf geborgen (DSOW1, DSOW2, K7, K8 und K9), von denen drei bereits wieder ausgebracht wurden (DSOW1, K7 und K8).
Das Ausbringen von K7 erwies sich als besonders schwierig. Beim ersten Versuch trieb das Meereis schneller auf uns zu als erwartet, sodass wir fast die Hälfte der Verankerung wieder einholen mussten. Obwohl das Schiff selbst gut durch treibendes Eis navigieren kann, ist das Ausbringen einer Verankerung deutlich anspruchsvoller: Dabei wird ein langer Draht mit Messinstrumenten und Auftriebskörpern hinter dem Schiff ausgesetzt, bevor am Ende der Anker gelöst wird und das gesamte System absinkt.
Zwei Tage später versuchten wir es erneut, diesmal mit Erfolg.
Anschließend fuhren wir näher an das Meereis heran, was für viele von uns ein besonderes Highlight war. Das Eis aus nächster Nähe zu sehen und sogar eine Robbe in der Nähe schwimmen zu beobachten, machte das Erlebnis unvergesslich.
Aufgrund der weiterhin rauen Wetterbedingungen wurde schließlich entschieden, zu K1 zurückzukehren, um ein bevorstehendes Wetterfenster für die Ausbringung am nächsten Tag zu nutzen.
Between Storms and Science: Easter in the Labrador Sea (04.04.26–13.04.26)
Ocean Acidification
Humans Just Flew Around the Moon This Week. But Would Babies Born There Ever Truly Feel Gravity? Ask Jellyfish Babies.
This week, NASA’s Artemis II crew made history by flying around the Moon and returning safely to Earth, the first human journey to the Moon’s vicinity in more than 50 years. It was a stunning reminder that humanity is no longer just dreaming about living beyond Earth. We are actively rehearsing for it.
And that leads to a much stranger, deeper question: even if one day we build skyscrapers on the Moon, raise families there, and turn space into a place to live, will babies born away from Earth develop a normal sense of gravity? Or will their bodies learn the universe differently?
To explore that question, NASA once turned to an unexpected stand-in for human babies: jellyfish babies. On the STS-40 mission, scientists sent thousands of tiny jellyfish polyps into space because jellyfish, like humans, rely on gravity-sensing structures to orient themselves. The experiment asked a simple but profound question: if a living body develops in microgravity, will it still know how to handle gravity later?
The answer was both fascinating and unsettling. The jellyfish developed in space in large numbers, but once back under Earth’s gravity, the ones that had developed in microgravity showed far more pulsing abnormalities than the Earth-grown controls. In other words, their bodies formed, but their sense of balance did not seem to work quite the same way.
That is why this old jellyfish experiment still matters today. Before we imagine lunar cities, schools, nurseries, and generations born off-world, we need to ask not only whether humans can survive in space, but whether developing there changes how the body understands something as basic as up, down, and movement. Jellyfish babies cannot tell us everything about human children, but they may have given us one of the first clues that life born beyond Earth might not come home unchanged.
Reference: https://nlsp.nasa.gov/view/lsdapub/lsda_experiment/0c10d660-6b12-573d-8c3b-e20e071aed3b
Image: GEOMAR, Sarah Uphoff
After a slight delay of the Maria S. Merian caused by late-arriving containers our research cruise MSM142 finally got underway. By last Tuesday (24.03.2026), the full scientific team had arrived in Nuuk, the capital of Greenland, and the ship reached port on Wednesday (25.03.2026) morning. That same day, scientists and technicians moved on board and immediately began preparations, assembling and testing our instruments. Although the mornings on Wednesday and Thursday were grey and overcast, the afternoons cleared up beautifully. This gave us valuable time to organize equipment on deck and store empty boxes back into the containers before departure.
Given the forecast of harsh conditions outside the fjord, we carried out the mandatory safety drill while still in harbour. This included practicing emergency procedures and boarding the lifeboat. After completing border control, we were finally ready to leave Nuuk. We set sail on March 27th, heading into the Labrador Sea to begin our mission. Even before starting scientific operations, we tested the setup for deploying our gliders without releasing them during the transit out of the fjord. Once we reached open waters, we were met by high waves the following morning. For some on board, this was their first experience under such rough sea conditions. Seasickness quickly became a challenge for a few, while scientific work had to be temporarily postponed due to the strong winds and sea conditions. Together with the crew, we discussed how best to adapt our measurement plans to the given weather conditions. On March 29th, we were finally able to begin our scientific program with the first CTD deployment. A CTD is an instrument used to measure conductivity, temperature, and depth, which are key parameters for understanding ocean structure.
During the following night, we continued with additional CTD stations and successfully recovered two moorings: DSOW 3 and DSOW 4, located south of Greenland. These moorings carry instruments at various depths that measure velocity, temperature, and salinity. DSOW 4 was redeployed on the same day, while DSOW 3 followed the next day. In addition, the bottles attached to the CTD’s rosette can be used to collect water samples from any desired depth. These samples can be used, for example, to determine the oxygen content, nutrient levels, and organic matter.
Both are part of the OSNAP array, a network of moorings spanning the subpolar North Atlantic. On these moorings are a few instruments, for example microcats which measure temperature, pressure and salinity.
We then conducted around 25 CTD stations spaced approximately 3 nautical miles apart across an Irminger ring identified from satellite data. This high-resolution sampling was necessary to capture the structure of an Irminger Ring, which had a radius of about 12 km wide.
The days leading up to April 2nd were marked by very rough weather conditions. Life on board became both challenging and, at times, unintentionally entertaining sliding chairs were not uncommon. During the night from April 1st to April 2nd, winds reached 11 Beaufort with gusts up to 65 knots, forcing us to pause our measurements. Fortunately, conditions improved by morning, allowing us to resume our work. As well as with the help of the crew we had to adapt to the harsh weather conditions to continue our scientific work. On the 3rd of April, we were able to deploy a few gliders and one float. An ocean glider is an autonomous underwater Vehicle, which you can steer remotely and send to different locations, while it is measuring oceanographic key parameters.
This research cruise focuses on understanding small-scale processes in the ocean and their connection to the spring bloom, an essential phase in marine ecosystem in subpolar regions. Despite the challenging start, we have already gathered valuable data and look forward to the weeks ahead in the Labrador Sea.
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