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I started my music studies in 2011 and haven't stopped studying since. I finished my Bachelors in Classical Guitar Performance in 2014 and went on to complete an Honours degree in music and cognition in 2015. I started my PhD at Western Sydney University in Australia in 2016 investigating sound and silence and am now a PhD Candidate building a new analysis model for musicians. It was in 2016 that I interviewed fellow artist, activist, and performer Candy Royalle. Our conversation revealed the biggest secret I was hiding away from myself, from everybody. I realised I was transgender. I had to come out a second time and decided to be completely open and honest with the people in my life. We are only given one life and I knew I had to keep going. Heading into 2017, I not only managed my research but also engaged in difficult conversations with my family, friends, and supervisors. My supervisors are amazing and supportive women who have stood by me for the last 4 years. I had felt invisible at conferences and symposiums. I knew I was not being heard. But it was another thing completely when I realised that I felt invisible for 40 years because I couldn't see my true self in the mirror. The end of my first 40 years of life was in sight. A new beginning was waiting for me. My new chapter started on July 2nd 2019. With perseverance, I have successfully completed my thesis and the first draft is being proofread as we speak. The best part of my life has just begun. I feel amazing by passionately pursuing a subject I love. My research opened up the world to me, illustrated the simplicity of life, demonstrated the kindness of others - especially of other artists -, and displayed that sticking by your art and advocating for what you believe will change your life. It also taught me that you must open yourself up to support if you're struggling. Step away from work if you need to. Doing a PhD shouldn't feel like a life sentence. It needs to be the best years of your life.

Before applying to my PhD program, I was working a new job as a Sexual Assault Nurse Examiner. I took a solo trip to celebrate and was raped by a powerful man in the first 48 hours that I was in Washington D.C. In a city built on power, I was powerless. At this time, I decided that I was going to apply for my PhD in nursing to research sexual assault and inform health policy. I also set a goal that I would go back to the city that broke my heart, reclaim my power and use it for the greater good. After receiving my acceptance letter, I was determined to make this happen. I entered academia and immediately noticed that I was the only brown person there. I was the only queer person, the only one with a mental illness, the only single mother and the only one still in poverty. I felt my mental stability being chipped away, piece by piece, day by day and ignored all of the signs. I later had a full-fledged panic attack, failed a portion of my PhD competency exam and was called in to speak with faculty. I explained that I suffer from anxiety and have complex trauma. I showed them the little moon-shaped scars that I have on the insides of my palms from digging my nails into them until they bleed. I explained that I am simply learning how to exist in an environment that is a direct opposite from my own and asked them to be patient with me. No one cared. They told me that I needed to do better. I didn’t drop out of my program, but I have stopped seeking solidarity amongst colleagues. I have learned that I am responsible for my own happiness and that I require love and patience from myself. I’m not as accomplished as my peers, but I am more accomplished than I ever thought that I would be, and at the end of the day that’s what matters. And I never gave up. I will be relocating to D.C. permanently this fall with the same agenda, just stronger, smarter and more resilient. IG: aliciainwonderland19 Twitter: babybelladonna2

I am currently in my second year of a PhD in Chemical Education at the University of Oklahoma. I fight anxiety and depression on a daily basis, and I’m finally going to counseling consistently and managing my anxiety and depression through medication. I’ve always known I have anxiety - my first panic attack (though I didn’t realize what it was then) was in 3rd grade. Then, after some harsh family situations through high school, I gained depression on top of that. It got worse in university, and finally in graduate school, it got to a very dark place. I wasn’t sure I’d survive with all that work, but I did, and I asked for help. I’m still here, and I’m grateful for all of my friends for helping me through and reminding me that it’s okay to not be okay. Some of the things that have helped me succeed in graduate school are: 1) I have an advisor to talk to. Having an understanding advisor was so important to me. I couldn’t be a 40hr/week graduate student, and I am glad my advisor just asks for communication when I’m going through rough times. 2) Ask for help. Utilize university counseling centers, other graduate students for advice, and have someone you can trust be your contact in case you have a really bad day and need to talk. 3) Take a deep breath. When you’re feeling anxious, one of the best things that helps me is to make sure I’m breathing. 4) Know when “good enough” really is good enough. It doesn’t have to be perfect every time. Some things just need to be good enough. Say whaaaat? 5) When giving presentations, do practice runs. Don’t procrastinate on the presentation. Get a group together, different groups, or a single person to sit and give feedback. Heck, I use employees at my local game shop as practice presentations. Practice practice practice, that’s what gets you through. The more you practice, the more it becomes like a conversation with the audience rather than a lecture to them.

I’ve had minor anxiety ever since I was a teenager, but a healthy lifestyle used to keep the anxiety at bay … until my third year of graduate school. Objectively, I was doing great. I was publishing papers, being invited to events, meeting amazing scholars. I won some awards and grants. As my PhD exams approached, though, I felt nothing but inadequate. I was so afraid of failure that I couldn’t even start an academic task without upsetting my stomach. If I finished something, I’d be immobile for days afterwards. I felt exhausted whenever I tried to write, but when it came time to sleep at night, my mind raced—sometimes until I was so frustrated that I cried. I finally took my PhD exams, and I passed them with flying colors. But compliments from my advisors and the relief of being “ABD” didn’t change my state of mind. I rewarded myself by lying in bed playing video games for days, but once I went down, I didn’t get back up. I hated myself, and I didn’t even enjoy my hobbies anymore. I went off the grid: didn’t check emails, didn’t text my friends, didn’t call anyone. Everyday tasks started to feel impossible. Eventually, my best friend realized that I wasn’t OK. She told me to see a psychologist, but I didn’t even have the energy to find one. She had to make an appointment for me, and she had to make me go. The psychologist told me I was more than anxious. I was having a major depressive episode, even though I’d never had depression before. I needed a therapist, as well as a medical doctor and a psychiatrist. On the outside, I may have been the most high-functioning PhD student on earth, but on the inside, under-treated anxiety had wreaked havoc on my body. I had adrenal fatigue and a hormone imbalance. I had lost 10% of my body weight. Getting better took a lot of time, medication, and support from friends and family. And honestly, I had to step back from a few of my academic commitments, too. But I’m so glad I’m on the road to recovery. I’ll finish my PhD this June. Twitter handle: MIRANDACTL

I knew I wanted to be a scientist as long as I can remember. I was that weird kid: I did redox chemistry in my bathtub. I got great grades on my baccalauréat and got accepted into my dream chemistry program at a university. It was a rough time (and could probably be the subject of its own post!) but I graduated with a bachelor's and a master's from there. I applied for PhDs in the US and got accepted in a small university under a great PI. During a trip back home that Christmas, my whole internal mental support system imploded, for a variety of factors. I was left a shadow of myself: I had huge anxiety, would have frequent breakdowns, would bang my head against the wall and try to "rip my brain out" by clawing at my skull. I had to drive myself to psych ward. My PI was supportive during that time. I slowly went back to work, having to overcome a newfound anxiety of working in the lab. In May that year, I saw a psychiatrist specialized in ASD diagnosis and was formally diagnosed with Asperger's. Having a name for why I was different just was a huge relief. Slowly, and thanks to a lot of psychiatric and counseling help, I have come to terms with my brain. I am able to be happy now. My PI took a while to understand my diagnosis, for a while he thought I had Tourette's. Then he decided he needed to pressure me into things. This had the exact opposite effect: I mentally completely shut down and my research productivity plummeted. I was told by my psychiatrist to take six weeks of medical leave. I'm back to work now, just starting my fifth year. I have a different, less pressure inducing project. I am unsure where to go after this. These experiences have taught me that I am not really suited for the high pressure and low reward system in academia. Should I do a postdoc? Or go to industry? I'm not sure I'm built for that either. For now, I'm working day to day, trying to finally publish and get out of here. And some days, I just have to tell my boss: "sorry, it's been really rough."

In a week, I’ll begin my second year as a PhD student. Or, perhaps more accurately, my fourth. I tried getting a PhD right out of undergrad, and I got into a good program with excellent funding. When I flamed out after two years, I was sure I’d never go back, yet here I am. I tried my best to learn from my mistake; I chose a field that I cared more about, I made sure the department was a good fit, and I’ve worked harder in my classes. I think I’m doing better this time around, but every day I wake up terrified of screwing up again. The anxiety didn’t originate with grad school, but it was certainly compounded by it. For a while, I tried to pretend that the rising stress wasn’t a big deal. Even after I started my new program, the anxiety aggravated other health issues so badly I had trouble eating. I still pretended I was alright. I spent my first year experiencing moments of panic on a daily basis. Classes that, in retrospect, I should have enjoyed, I spent in a state of low-key dread. What made it so hard for me to accept that my struggles were real was the fact that I thought I had no reason to feel anxious. I have excellent funding, a supportive advisor, and the benefit of experience on doctoral study. I shouldn’t feel like my throat is about to close up every few hours. Other people have real problems and mine seem to be solely in my head. What right do I have to claim a mental health issue when I’m so fortunate? That argument didn’t seem to fix anything. I received an official diagnosis before summer and went on medication shortly thereafter. I have a good therapist. Both help a lot. I still find it hard to talk about my struggles to anyone besides my spouse. I am trying to learn to be kind to myself, which has maybe been the hardest struggle of all.

Abstract: Know thyself. It’ll change. Introduction: I had a bad feeling about my PhD since day one. I should have listened to myself, but I was told that a PhD was necessary for an industry career and that academia was freer. My average working day was 11.5 ± 0.7 hours; my PI would dismiss any idea I had and micromanage every experiment. I felt stuck and lonely. Friendships and dates would end for my irritability. I was screaming for help to people who weren't listening. My mother thought I just needed more money. Results: I didn’t want to celebrate my graduation. I didn’t feel proud, and even today I feel I had been defrauded. Then I turned my frustration into action. It took me two years to figure out what I wanted to do every day. From there things moved fast: I first landed a post-doc in my field of choice and soon thereafter I moved to industry, where I had wanted to be, which was much freer than the academia had ever been. Methods: A secondment to Germany was key: no micromanagement, free hours. I was leaving the lab earlier, caring about my body, exercising. I tattooed 継続 進化, “continuous evolution”, an unchangeable reminder that life is all about change. Back in Italy, I joined swim classes and decided I’d follow my choices, not my PI’s orders. I found teams with similar scientific needs, jointly set up experiments and failed badly until it worked. To finally move to industry, I had to figure out what everyday duties I desired. I looked for those job descriptions and reached out to people with that job title; asking questions and for feedback, giving comments and ideas, tracking conversations and setting up alerts to follow up. Meetups led to collaborations, and discovering gaps and ways to fill them. Conclusion: I got where I am now by building up on failures and collaborations. For the first time, I feel lucky. The dread is not completely gone; at times I melt down over small things, or I feel I don’t belong. But I am who I want to be; I do what I want to do. I know myself, I’m in continuous evolution. Author: Andy