Research is Harder Than You Think
Everyone finds research difficult. That's why it's worthwhile.
The undergraduate thesis is the most forgiving and challenging of all research projects. Forgiving, because if things don't turn out as planned, then you will not lose your job or admission to graduate school or the respect of your peers. Challenging, because in many ways it is the first sustained, independent project most folks tackle. Of course, you want to do a good job, but never having completed a job like this you don't know what that process is like.
So, here’s the plain truth: Research is hard.
When it’s done right, and when it’s done at a “scholarly” level, research is literally about trying to find out something we don't know. If we knew the answer…then it wouldn’t be research. (This means that we’re using “research” in a special way: it’s not just about summary and reviewing what others have done, but about trying to learn something new.)
If it were easy, then it would not be worth doing. It is hard because it is confusing; if it were straightforward, then it would be easy.
Research can be confusing because it entails a long and indefinite period of anxiety. We operate without knowing what the answer is, which is unpleasant, because it means we have to constantly confront our inability to get an answer...right up until we have an answer, and immediately after that we are going to be beset by questions about whether we have actually got the right answer.
But just because it’s unpleasant doesn’t mean it’s wrong. Confronting our ignorance–and that’s what research is–is also a noble endeavor. And it also forces us to be radically honest about what we know and don’t know.
Research entails a constant cycle of revision and questioning. (That cycle dovetails with our interest in asking questions that contribute to accumulating knowledge and iterating on what was previously known—of undertaking projects that complement what already exists.) That cycle is healthy, as far as it goes, but the biggest point is that you have to confront your own limits. The cycle won't end: if you’re working on an important question, then you’re joining a conversation that began well before you and will never end (well, maybe chatGPT-420 will be advanced enough to end it).
The joint realization that what you’re doing is important and that what you’re doing is, in a sense, impossible, means that anything you do will be partial. Your aim isn't perfection or solidity--your aim is defensibility and honesty.
And that’s totally okay! That is, in fact, the best any of us can do.
Confronting and labeling this condition lets you think about how you can move past your anxieties. You won't overcome them in a single bound. Instead, you're going to want to think about what the next, most concrete step you can take is. And then take that one, and then another one. Pretty soon, you’ll find you’ve traveled pretty far.
The takeaway: Embrace imperfection. Anxiety is a natural reaction to finding yourself in a place where all the next steps aren’t prescribed, but you can overcome it and make progress–and eventually some of the anxiety will go away.
The practical: Plan what you’ll do when the anxiety becomes overwhelming. That can be as general as reaching out to your adviser or as specific as switching to another part of your work that’s a little less anxiety-producing. (And this is why it’s a good idea to have a good sense of the next step or three that you want to take!)