Search Results

Taking care of our mental health needs to stay as a top priority during these especially disruptive and scary times. We first need to check in on our own status to be able to improve it. Through physical distancing, it's easy to become disconnected. But what might start as a simple "I only talked to two people today" can quickly become "I'm not sure the last time I had a real conversation." And that's not great. Social isolation is when we reduce contact with friends, family, or others in society. This can affect our mental health, including our ability to work and stay stable. It prevents us from getting support, and also restricts our ability to help others. Signs of social isolation include lack of interest in things that normally interest you, no longer maintaining your own hygiene or the cleanliness of your living space, and disruptions in eating or poor nutrition. We know it's hard to get through this time. Check-in and see how you are actually doing. And if the answer is "not really that okay" - please reach out to a friend or loved one. They want to support you, they want you to feel better.

I think one of the things I find interesting about any postgraduate degree, but specifically a PhD is that it generally takes place when you are an adult, who is trying to balance life. I didn't fully start to take care of myself until I started my PhD, and so the experience for me has been a lot. In my first year, I decided I was going to learn to drive, and I was going to buy a car. I bought the car, but it ended up sitting in my parking lot for about six months because life happened. I couldn't afford insurance, and when I could, I was too nervous and anxious to get behind the wheel and drive. In the second year of my PhD, I hit rock bottom, and I hit it hard. A lot of things were going on in my personal life, and in my bid to balance everything, I neglected my mental health. In my third year, I tried to fix all the broken relationships from my second year and stretched myself thin, and now I am suffering from burnout. When I started my PhD, I genuinely thought that life would stand still for me and everything would be smooth sailing in my personal life until I graduated, but that hasn't been the case at all, and I was naïve to think it would be. Now, when I talk to new PhD students, or anyone really, I always tell them to put themselves first. I am still only learning this lesson in the final year of my PhD (You would have thought I would have learnt my lesson by now!). A PhD is very demanding, and sometimes it seems like a huge ask to take care of yourself first, but I am learning self-care is extremely important. One of the things that helped me in the last year is taking breaks in the middle of the day with someone. I know this sounds obvious, but hear me out. PhD's are very isolating by nature, especially when you are an international student (which I am). You are not only trying to navigate a new country, but you are also trying to navigate a new system Sometimes it just seems easier to eat your lunch or have all 20 cups of coffee at your desk. And even though there is nothing inherently wrong with that, sometimes it helps to have a chat with someone about work, or life or just random things. People always talk about having support systems and how important they are, I 100% agree and support this. However, when you are an introvert, who struggles with anxiety, and is an international student, it can be a challenge to build a network. When I started my PhD, I thought I would be the girl with lots of friends and a diverse network, but that was and is not my reality. My support system currently comprises of my family and a handful of friends spread across the world, and that works for me. My system includes people in my office that I can talk to when I am struggling, or when I need to vent. However, none of these people is in the same group as me, and only one is in the same department as me. Nevertheless, that is okay, because in their way they provide support for me when I need it and vice versa. A support system is an essential part of getting through grad school, but your support system does not need to look like everyone else's support system. I have also found that Twitter is such a useful tool for finding people who understand your struggles and can celebrate your successes with you. I love the community of PhD students and just academics in general that I have found on Twitter because they remind me that I am not alone, and this is merely just a phase in my life. Over the last few years, I have learnt so much about myself, due to the pressure of the PhD. It's interesting when you think about it, and if anyone asked me how I have made it this far, I would honestly have to say "I have no idea" and that, is the truth. There is no "one size fits all" rule for completing a PhD and overcoming the accompanying challenges. Everyone has to figure out what works best for them and stick with it. The best advice I can give anyone is, be kind to yourself. This experience is a marathon, and you have to pace yourself, in every way. You have to intentionally take care of yourself and be kind to yourself when things don't go the way you planned. If you genuinely love what you do, then you should always remind yourself that the goal is not just to finish. The goal is to answer a question, advance the research, and solve a problem. It does not matter if other people are sprinting across the field your jog will get you there eventually. You deserve to play in the game with everyone else, and you are doing a great job even if you cannot see it. Ultimately, a PhD is an experience, but it also just a part of your life. It is not your whole life. You might buy a house, get married, lose a loved one, have a child, have a falling out with a loved one, etc. The list of things that may or may not happen while you are in the phase is endless, but they can happen, and that's just the way life is. When these things happen, don't give your PhD priority over everything else. Remember, it is a part of your life, not your entire life. ~Sharon Bolanta Follow @shayrunn on Twitter and Instagram. Learn more at Sharon's website www.sharonbolanta.com

If you are struggling right now, you aren't alone. TW: Suicide There is a recurring myth that suicides peak around the holidays - this is untrue and dangerous. Although we don't yet know exactly why the highest rates of suicides in the Northern hemisphere occur between the months of April and August. This month, we will be posting information about suicide, prevention, and postvention. This page was created to help those who are struggling most and need to find others who can understand and want to empathize. Especially now, when the darkness might feel inescapable, we need you to reach out and ask for help. This darkness will lift, as it has in the past. Tip for supporting yourself and others: Caring contacts can help people feel connected & reduce the likelihood of suicide-related behavior. Ask a friend to check in on you - loved ones WANT to support you. And if you are at a place to support others, send someone a caring contact telling them they are valued – a text, a phone call, a postcard, an e-card! We understand this topic is sensitive. Speaking out can be uncomfortable and scary. But talking about suicide openly is at the core of our mission, and we won't be stopping. IF YOU ARE EXPERIENCING SUICIDAL THOUGHTS OR CONTEMPLATING HARM TO YOURSELF, PLEASE CALL OR MESSAGE 1-800-273-8255. We need you here.

I'm a final-year PhD student, and I have Panic Attacks. Unfortunately, panic attacks are often dismissed as “bad stress”, something which could be easily cured by “taking a breather.” Due to this stigma, some people may have experienced panic attacks but are uninformed or reluctant to seek help. In sharing one panic attack experience, I hope to reach at least one person. Let me break down the onset of my anxiety that fateful Saturday. I’m going to explicitly describe my thoughts, while in real-time, they feel more like abstract concepts rather than coherent sentences. Despite the fact that I had a fairly productive work week prior, I started to feel guilty for painting our new house when I could be doing research-related activities. My mind said, “you only have 10 months left, you need to finish data collection, write papers, finish milestones, compile your dissertation, find a post-doc, build a personal website, organize your CV, take a class, maintain collaborative responsibilities....” but not in clear words. Instead, my anxious thoughts are foggy, fleeting, and cruel. Imagine standing in the middle of a fog so dense that you can barely make out your feet. Suddenly, an unseen bird swoops in behind you, yelling, in your own voice, “CV”. You then subconsciously add context - “you idiot, it’s been months and you haven’t updated your CV”. You might have time to shake off the intentions of the first bird, but soon a second follows yelling, “Post-Doc”, and then a third, “calculations”, and another, “class”, and another, “collaborations”.... Then one bird flashes a smiling picture of friends graduating that very day while yelling “NEVER”, meaning “never for you”. The birds start to come faster, their words repeating, getting louder, their intentions more malicious; you have less time to process the thoughts which means your internal language becomes harsher. For me, this cruel mental dive-bombing of a “to-do list” is a part of my everyday life. However, some days, this mental Hitchcockian drama sparks physical symptoms that can result in a panic attack. Biologically, a panic attack occurs when mental distress triggers your sympathetic nervous system to enter fight-or-flight mode. Your mind becomes fixated on thoughts that present the “threat”, to which your body is evolutionarily trained to respond. (Little does your body know, we live in a SOCIETY, and we no longer need to face bears on the regular.) Adrenaline courses through your veins, your heart races, and your chest tightens, causing rapid, shallow breaths. I hunch over, cover my face with my hands, and soon a headache will arise in my brows and eye sockets. My vision “tunnels,” the corners becoming fuzzy and white. Panic attacks can be very real threats to a person’s mental and physical wellbeing. If you are unable to curtail these physical symptoms, you may end up hyperventilating, becoming dizzy or nauseous, and, in the absolute worst cases, blacking out. Thankfully, I have my husband to help me, medication, and techniques from my therapist to regain control after panic symptoms start. Usually my panic attacks start with the fleeting negative thoughts that last up to 2 hours. Over that time, the physical symptoms arise gradually, and if I’m not careful, I might not be able to tell panic is setting in. If I catch the symptoms early enough, I can take my panic medication to slow the sympathetic nervous system. In that time, I will do some of the following things to “ground” myself: (1) run outside, (2) deep breathing exercises, (3) draw, or (4) feverishly write down the dive-bombing thoughts. Writing often helps concretize the thoughts, taking away their abstract power. If I can do all of these before the sympathetic nervous system kicks in, then I typically regain control. However, if I’m already entering “fight-or-flight,” I’m likely about to have a panic attack. All together, depending how early I intervene, this event may take 1-2 hours, with 10 minutes at its most intense of panic and then another 10 minutes for a “slow-down” period at the end. This past Saturday was no different. The fleeting thoughts started, and I kept trying to dismiss them while doing housework. I realized my dismissal attempts weren’t working when I walked into the kitchen three times, each time forgetting what I needed; I was unable to focus on anything besides the foggy, fleeting, and cruel thoughts. I took my panic medication, sat down, and verbal-vomited my stressors to my husband. I wrote the stressors in my journal and tried deep breathing exercises, but my sympathetic nervous system was already in overdrive. I breathed deeply through tears. Before the readers become too upset, I’d like to explain - I was panicked for no reason. I have plenty of publications and presentations. I am on track with my milestones. I have 10 months to graduate. My PI has many insider connections for me to land a post-doc. I have a home, amazing family and friends, and a loving, successful husband. So why was I panicked? Because I spent 2 extra hours painting the master-bathroom of our newly purchased house?! Yes. That is anxiety. Constant worry for no logical reason; worry that cannot be abetted by normal coping mechanisms and may disrupt a person’s ability to function. I must note that not everyone’s panic attack experience is the same. For example, I describe my thoughts as “foggy and fleeting,” while others describe theirs as “racing” or “circling”. For years, I didn’t know what these intense moments of mental fixation, panic, and sobbing were - I just thought, “ah, stress is stress”. In effect, anxiety strugglers each experience things a little differently, and the only person who can truly tell would be your doctor. If you think you might be experiencing panic attacks, please make an appointment to see a doctor. They can evaluate your particular condition and direct you to a specialist who can help. You are no good to the scientific community if you aren’t taking care of yourself and your mind. ~Anonymous

Is there anything more frustrating than setting goals knowing everything will change before you reach them? Whether we are working in a lab or in a library, studying the distant cosmos or the intricacies of the world around us, we are united by the need to reach some specific point that nobody else ever has. Picking a direction when there has never been a path to our destination is just that - we can only use our best resources to choose a direction and create the path as we go, changing our movements to overcome obstacles and keep moving forward. How can we set goals when we don’t know where we need to end up? These tips are meant to be used both for tackling graduate school and the research questions you work on every day. 1) Determine your main motives and values - those things that will likely not change in the next few months. Why are you here and what are you trying to change? Use these answers as your guiding light when things get murky. Online tools can help you figure out your values, as can talking with a therapist or a life coach. 2) Set actionable goals and define reasonable timeframes to complete them - when some things are out of our control, it is important to find the things we can control. Instead of “Gather all data by next month” you can set a goal of “Work on this data for 50 hours this month.” Even if the experiment changes or the results lead to more questions, you can still have reached your goal. 3) Create accountability - writing down your goals and setting calendar reminders to reassess them will help you keep going. I personally like using the Bullet Journal Method! Additionally, finding an accountability buddy or a mentor to help you can provide both motivation and guidance. 4) Check-in regularly. Create events in your calendar each month (or even week) to sit down and think about whether you’re meeting your timelines. Why or why not? Were your timelines reasonable? Is there a roadblock in your way? Where can you go from here? Thinking about this will not only help you reach your current goals but will also make you better at setting timelines and reasonable expectations for the future. 5) Give yourself the same compassion you would give to a friend - you deserve credit for your efforts and your progress, even when it feels like neither is going very far. The process is frustrating, but you are getting through it, and you will look back to see the path you have created. You are always learning, and that’s pretty amazing. Susanna Harris is a PhD Candidate at The University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. Follow along on Instagram and Twitter at @SusannaLHarris

By Adriana Bankston, PhD Graduate school can be a very taxing experience. A support system is essential for success both in the laboratory and overall for your career. Support systems can be in the form of mentors, peers, or other support, and this can differ based on your needs while in the laboratory, or they can provide advice needed on a longer-term basis. Ideally mentors, peers, and other individuals can support your professional trajectory, as well as discuss personal matters pertaining to your emotional and mental well-being. Support from mentors Mentors can be part of your support network, and they can be instrumental in several aspects of your training, thereby showing different types of support. Experiments and presentations: One of these aspects is helping you perform and think through experiments needed to perform at the bench in order to help your research progress. They can help you present your research in the form of talks and posters, honing your presentation skills which will be useful in your career. They can also facilitate collaborations for you with other laboratories, which may help advance your research even further, and help in manuscript writing thereby disseminating your research more widely and advancing your career. Professional support: Mentors can also provide more targeted academic career advice, and may be able to point you to additional resources and mentors for non-academic careers (for example myIDP, resources from scientific societies). They can also talk with you about potential career options you might be interested in and considering related to science, and grow your network in those areas through participation at conferences and in-person meetings for informational interviews. Personal support: Mentors can also be useful resources for you in terms of your personal growth while in the laboratory, and they can support you by discussing the needs that you have to improve your emotional and mental well-being. This includes discussing family-related matters, and any other personal issues that may be relevant for them to know or that could interfere with your work. Knowing details about your personal life that you are willing to share may enable them to better support you while in the laboratory and beyond. Support from peers Peers can provide similar types of support as mentors do, but may be able to lend a listening ear for issues that you may not be comfortable talking with your mentor about, or may give you advice in terms of how to talk with the mentor about particular issues if you decide to do so. They may also be able to suggest additional resources for your professional and personal development that the mentor may not be aware of. Other support Your family and friends can also provide support that your mentors and peers may not be able to offer, since they know you more intimately. In some cases, if they are not familiar with the pressures of graduate school, they may need to be educated on this topic. Also, depending on whether or not they are in science, they could offer different perspectives on your work, or be able to edit your manuscript with another view than your immediate co-workers. Also don’t underestimate the support of pets, which can be really therapeutic for you during the ups and downs of graduate school by being a constant source of comfort. This post represents my personal views and not the views of my employer, University of California.

When I look back in 10 years, I wonder which parts of my doctoral undertaking will be most salient: The moment in which I received the phone call from Dr Sawaya, telling me I had been admitted into my program. Walking around campus late at night, just before my first semester, smiling at the smell of freshly cut grass in humid southern air—unbridled excitement buzzing through my chest. My first seminar, wherein I felt like a fraud for not knowing all of the three-suffix words that my peers spoke with unflagging confidence. The semester during which I abruptly halted my studies, and hightailed it out of state to the solace of my best friend’s living room for several months—certain that I no longer had the fortitude to survive academia. Returning to school, and successfully passing my qualifying exams; tearing up when my advisor looked me in the eyes and called me “brilliant”. For those of us who embody marginalized identities, academia feels simultaneously like a treasure trove and a battle ground. We learn new tools—new words, ways of thinking, and new meanings with which to understand ourselves and our communities. We learn parts of our histories that had once been buried so deeply beneath the sheathing of dominant ideology. We learn that some few, brave others have come before us, thinking our same thoughts, writing themselves into existence, making knowledge, and trying to change the world. We also feel nearly flattened by the weight of what we represent in these spaces. We know that getting this degree isn’t just for ourselves. Sometimes earning those three letters after my name feels like an elaborate quest to obtain the keys to massive doors; doors that will otherwise remain sealed shut in perpetuity for myself and my communities. I know that I’m getting this degree for other Black folks, for other trans* folks, and other queer folks. For my younger cousins; two little boys who look up at me with innocent eyes, their lanky little mahogany limbs dancing as they yell out “Hi Cousin Kelsey!”, still unaware that there are scholars who specifically study the frightening statistical likelihood that they could end up incarcerated one day. When I started this degree, I swore that I wouldn’t lose myself in the process. And in some ways, that promise proved unsustainable. I have certainly lost versions of myself. I also gained some new self. Near-ish to the halfway point of this process, I can already see how much it has changed me. Broken me. Challenged me. Healed me. Grown me. In this strange, sometimes beautiful, often arduous process, I have happened into a number of important realizations. In short, they are as follows: Nourish your whole self, not just your student self. This means giving yourself radical permission to do whatever it is you need to do in order to find joy. Sometimes this might look like playing hooky in order to hang out with your partner, and watch Netflix for the day. Sometimes this looks like getting that extra two hours of sleep, despite your previous commitment to stay up late doing research. Sometimes this looks like a formal mental-health leave of absence from school. There shouldn’t be shame associated with these self-loving acts. We’re mere mortals. Find community. Bonus points for community outside of school. This academic process is a long, often lonely endeavor. Even the most introverted among us need some amount of interpersonal connection. It can be tempting to isolate, and tuck your head into your highly specific, individual work. But really amazing ideas are often sparked by interactions with others—within and beyond our specific disciplines. And, just as significant, sometimes it’s highly beneficial to find community outside of school altogether. These are the folks that will bring you to a music show on the other side of town, that you would have never found out about otherwise. They remind you that there is more to life than school. Stay open to a myriad of possibilities. Let’s be frank. Not everyone who earns their PhD is going to land that perfect, tenure-track academic job on the other side. And by “not everyone” …you know that I’m being generous. But so many of us are telling ourselves that this is the only measure of success at the end of this journey. What I have come to cherish about my graduate work, is that I feel like I’m learning a host of skills that are transferable across fields. I think it behooves us to make connections in different directions—don’t think of non-academic jobs as last-resort contingency plans. If you’ve identified “professor” or “researcher” as something you’d like to do upon graduating, that’s great. You know a job that you’d be good at, or happy with. But there are so many other possibilities. Take time to reflect on what else you might be good at, or fulfilled by. Create a legacy. Build a bridge. Sometimes it’s easy to view your institution, and the city or town in which it exists, as mere stepping stones on your personal journey. And while this may be functionally true, there is a great benefit to stopping, looking around, and thinking about what small (or big) things you can personally do to make the space or community more accessible to folks whose presence precedes yours, and for those coming behind you. Maybe this means starting a graduate mentorship program. Or partnering with community members to organize an effort to assess and address a local issue. I know, as graduate students, we’re often short on time and resources. But there are many ways to reciprocate the few privileges that we do accrue by occupying a grad student identity. Ultimately, these are my musings from my own, unique doctoral experience. I’m sure that when I do look back in 10 years, I will have insights that I can’t quite grasp yet. For every insight gained, there were…missteps. And that’s okay—we’re here to learn, right?

You're already feeling a lot of stress about graduate school interviews. You submitted the application, you finally heard back, you accepted an interview, and now it's time to pack up and go! But wait - what are you supposed to pack? Most guides will tell you to "wear business casual!" - okay, this is actually correct, but what does 'business casual' look like? Turns out, this is pretty tricky, because every culture, geographic location, and even department will have its own opinions of what they find 'professional enough.' Some people might say "whatever makes you feel confident and professional!" - I hope this is true, someday, but both sexism and other hiring biases are real concerns for interviewees. MY OPINION: Make sure your appearance isn’t the main thing they remember. Here are my own guidelines for grad school interview wear. Let me know how you feel in the comments! 1) Consider the weather and amount of walking 🌦️ At the very least, you don’t want to end up limping around in uncomfortable shoes, shivering without a coat, or sweating through everything because you dressed for Iowa weather for a Florida interview. 2) Wear layers 🧥 You can quickly change your look for the event and weather with layers of different levels of “fancy” - if you are wearing a button-up shirt, you can wear a comfortable sweater if you think it might be a more casual event OR you can wear a blazer/jacket if it might be more business-y. 3) Avoid blue jeans 👖 I HATE that this is a thing, but it is. You'll likely be interviewed by people who were taught jeans were never professional. Black jeans are more acceptable, as are corduroy pants or any type of slacks. Skirts and dresses are good, and aim for at least close to or below the knee. 4) Make sure you can carry everything 🎒 You will be moving from place to place and shaking hands. I don’t usually carry a purse, but I did get a messenger-style bag for these meetings. A small backpack works, or even a coat with plenty of pockets. 5) Ask someone at the university! 📃 It’s a great idea to reach out to students in the department you are targeting to ask questions anyway, and you can include “what do people wear to the interviews?” as one. 6) Be confident 🤗 At the end of the day, walk proudly and own what you’re wearing. You deserve to be there, and they are lucky you're considering joining. And honestly, nobody cares how you look nearly as much as you do. - Psst: here are some great tips about how to look and feel more confident! Anybody else out there interviewing? 💜S *Originally published by @SusannaLHarris on Instagram #GradSchoolInterview #GradStudent #GradLife #PhDTips #PhDStudent #CollegeInterview #ForeverAwkward

Frankly, I've been stuck for how to start this story, because I know-as a white, straight, middle-class [mediocre] man-I have benefitted from a lot of privilege and structural advantages. I've suffered from depression to some extent since high school, but I've always had access to therapists and medication. I've suffered from anxiety since late in college, but I've still been able to get professional help. I was fortunate enough to snag a tenure-track position right after defending my dissertation, and while the anxiety has only multiplied and the burnout has become oppressive, I've had a wonderful support system in my wife, my family, and the friends I've made here in the greater University of Georgia and Athens communities. I've been stuck, because the community here amazes me every day with its strength and beauty, and even though we always talk about how we can't and shouldn't compare struggles, I think about my own struggles and how I'd surely snap like a twig under a fraction of the pressures others here have faced and handled with grace. What, then, could my story possibly offer? The answer (it didn't come from me!) was simple: my story is another reminder that mental health issues and struggles are pervasive in academia and don't discriminate. Importantly, that means none of us are alone. I can't even remember how early the imposter syndrome set in, but it was probably around the start of graduate school when, with guidance from a trusted mentor, I went from an undergraduate program in computer science to a Master's program in computational biology. I hadn't taken a life sciences course since high school; suddenly I was a graduate student in freshman biology, chemistry, and biochemistry. I threw myself into it and did well, but that feeling of being a computer scientist in a biologist's world-an imposter-never went away. It got worse as I started my PhD, specializing in yet another area where I had no prior training: computer vision and bio imaging. It seemed like none of my previous training had prepared me for the research I was doing, all the while being surrounded by people who had done one, the other, or both for their entire lives. Even my student colleagues came from backgrounds that, to me, seemed better suited to the work. Throughout my PhD, I constantly worried and self-scrutinized and set both impossible and moving standards for myself, while simultaneously minimizing all the victories. While I found a fantastic "dissertation group" for weekly therapy toward the end (a group made entirely of ABD PhD Candidates), once my tenure-track position began barely a month after my defense (yes, I managed to minimize both of those victories, too), I suddenly felt more alone than ever with higher expectations than ever. To say the past 4.5 years have been difficult would be an understatement. I've had to re-learn, seemingly from scratch, many of the coping mechanisms that got me through similar periods years before, re-training myself and essentially re-wiring my brain to choose different default responses to certain anxiety triggers. It turns out, at the faculty level, good mental health resources are a lot harder to find (Athens in general does not have great mental health facilities, but even university-level resources for faculty are far less prevalent than for students), and making the time for regular therapy is almost as stressful as the thing(s) which motivated the need for said therapy in the first place. This past year, though, I lucked into an incredible on-site therapist through our Psych Department's clinic, as well as an online therapist. Their styles were very different, yet complementary, and though the time commitment was correspondingly greater-so I can't recommend this approach to everyone-it helped to the degree that I felt like I had more time available as a result of the strategies we were building and the habits I was forming. I've spent a lot of time making these strategies into habits, especially: Celebrating successes and victories Accepting setbacks and failures as required parts of the journey (but NOT reflections on me as a person) Taking time to ask what I can reasonably expect of myself at any given moment given the surrounding context. It will be a lifelong journey, but I can already say the difference is night and day. I can compare the first day of this new semester to the first day of the past spring semester and see exactly how far I've come in the same year. I can't begin to enumerate how helpful it has been to know that I'm not alone; that nothing I experience as part of my anxiety or burnout is unique to me or suggests that I'm doing anything wrong.

When I was diagnosed with PMDD, I was working as a research assistant in a not-for-profit research institute. I didn’t feel comfortable sharing emotional-based issues with my colleagues or employers. This led to not understanding why I had lots of 'sick days’ and being told, in not so few words, to sort it out. They all seemed to ‘have it together’. I just kept quiet, leading me to be isolated at work. I have since started a PhD and met lots of students with various levels of mental health impairments. It took a few months to overcome the stigma I felt taking antidepressants. There shouldn’t be stigma about medication, yet I couldn’t help but feel it. I felt like a fraud - I had it easy with the predictive nature of PMDD, while others have ‘proper’ depression. This kept me from talking about it until other peoples’ openness about their mental health made me realise that I have it bad, too - I’m entitled to feel how I do. I told my supervisor about my PMDD, from the aspect of wanting to design a study around myself, as a side-project to my PhD. I was nervous about opening up so much. I said, in an objective way, ‘I want to study the chemical changes in a disorder called premenstrual dysphoric disorder, It’s like PMS but worse… using me as a patient, as I have it’. He looked blank and said he hadn’t heard of that, but the project sounds interesting. We went on to talk about the disorder, in a clinical manner, which I felt helped me open up. I’m also very lucky he isn’t one of those men who is embarrassed or grossed out by women’s health and biology. He spoke about other women’s health research he is interested in, such as the microbiome of vaginal vs c-section births. I feel he spoke about this to show that he isn’t averse to having such conversations, while also supporting my research idea, and being considerate of my mental health. I’m excited and happy he is so supportive. https://viciouscyclepmdd.wordpress.com/ https://iapmd.org/ https://iapmd.org/provider-resources

My name is Tim Little, and I’m a PhD student split between The Francis Crick Institute and Imperial College London. I research gene expression in malaria parasites! I went to Cambridge for my undergrad and masters, and it was there where my mental health plummeted. I had previously struggled with social anxiety but only when I went to Uni did things truly become unbearable. The new social setting gave me huge anxiety, my massive expectations crushed my spirit and, above all else, the hideous workload weighed heavily upon me. I couldn’t keep my head above the water. Especially in the first year, when I slept long, long hours and cried weekly - I missed over half of my lectures and assignments. Things ebbed and flowed until it came to a head during my masters. After years of ignoring the symptoms, and blaming them on myself, I finally realised what it was - depression. When I got my PhD position and moved to London, suddenly missing one day a week, which was passable at university, became quite an unacceptable set-back. With experiments, I was finding it tough to be reliable, which was bad enough without all the other pressures of being a grad student. My PhD wouldn’t be able to pan out as it was. My supervisors decided that I would have to focus on computational techniques, which I had experienced during my masters. With this newer project I’m less sure what the next steps will be, but now I have much more flexibility, which is what I need right now. I can work from home often, including working visits back to Northern Ireland, where my family and my cat live. If I miss a day during the week, as I still often do, I can make up for it another time. I have been fortunate to have super understanding supervisors, who were willing to adapt the PhD to fit around my health. It is always reassuring to hear about other grad students who have mental health issues, and I hope that my openness can bring some of that to others also! My mental health journey, and my PhD, are far from over… Twitter handle: @TimLittleBuzz

Hello, My name is Ovsanna, and I am a first-year Clinical Psychology Ph.D. student at the University of Delaware. Even though I look like a happy-go-lucky person, some people do not know that I've had some obstacles in my life. I've had social anxiety (of public speaking) since the age of 18, from a bunch of events in my life. I didn't realize that I had this anxiety until I started my undergraduate term, when I started eating less, throwing up and not enjoying my hobbies or activities. Once I started seeing a psychologist, I got a little better, transferred from community college to university, graduated with my bachelors and got accepted into a Master's program in Clinical Psychology. During the duration of the Master's program I had a lot of anxiety attacks with all the public speaking opportunities, along with going through my newly experienced traumatic events in my life that made me feel inadequate and hopeless. As a result, I started seeing another psychologist, who helped me with loving myself, as well as managing my anxiety. As a result, I started to give more public presentations in classes, professional conferences, and other settings. Also, I applied to 20 Ph.D. programs and got accepted to (and am attending) one of the best programs for the field of clinical psychology. I hope that my story shows that even though people are going through so many obstacles in their life, they can find their happiness, pursue what they are passionate about, and have a better quality of life. Author: @armoscholar