This is definitely one of the trickier topics to discuss, but a number of encounters have convinced me that it’s a good idea to do so, so that something good comes from it. I spent the last two weeks in perpetual silent anxiety about… I wasn’t quite sure what. But that’s just it, isn’t it? People who’ve had similar run-ins with anxiety would understand that it’s never easy to isolate any single incident, any cause, any answer to the question, “What’s wrong?”
The problem could be a single variable, it could be multiple variables, or it could be the interaction between those variables (bit of a dry stats comparison coming through there) – it could even be none of them. But the way to overcome the anxiety and pull yourself back together isn’t always by isolating the cause and working on that like everyone seems to believe… sometimes the way to overcome it is just to acknowledge it and be honest with yourself, most importantly, and then also know the point at which you need to seek help. You yourself should be aware of the people who you feel most comfortable just talking to… not to discuss your problems, but just to find some solace and a sense of acceptance and understanding. From personal experience, it’s sometimes not the best idea to speak to those closest to you as a first resort. The reason is simple. People who love you tend to worry and fuss about you, and if you’ve suddenly come to them feeling not-like-yourself, there will be a fuss. There will be questions, most of which would meet the totally honest answer, “I don’t know” – which more likely than not will be mistaken for concealing true feelings.
“What happened?” – idk
“How are you feeling?” – idk
“Is it something at home? At work?” – idk
The other problem is that often, it’s not really advice that we need…
… but instead just someone who listens, who understands, who accepts and doesn’t take offense, and who trusts that we know what we need during that time:
In fact, I found it quite a lot easier to eventually start talking about what I was going through with people who were just colleagues, or people I saw only occasionally, or people I hadn’t seen in ages. Obviously, this differs between people. Some people need some extra encouragement before they actually realise that people genuinely care about them, whether those people are close to them or not. I found my first burst of encouragement in the most unexpected place. During the second week of my little slump, at my lowest low of exhaustion, anxiety, absent-mindedness, uneasiness, and overall emotional disharmony, I received a gift. It was from a visiting researcher from the States, who I had had only a few encounters and conversations with during his time in Cape Town, relatively speaking. The gift itself, and the note that accompanied it, were so thoughtful and so incredibly well-timed that I nearly started crying when I read it. On the off-chance that he sees this post: I really hope that in reading this, you understand how much difference your kind gesture made. From then on, I started being more open and honest about how I was feeling, instead of keeping it all to myself.
I sat down and spoke to my supervisor about it, and how I felt like I had no direction anymore. I spoke to my colleague about how little work I’ve been managing to get done, and how this impacted on my work plan.
I spoke to my friend about how completely defeated I felt about the way my data collection was going (I use the word ‘defeated’ here to avoid profanity, but if you’d like a hint as to what I really meant, as well as for some science-related comic relief, click here).
Interestingly, the response I got from my peers, colleagues, and supervisor were remarkably similar: no judgment, no questioning, no fussing, no hurry to give misplaced advice; just a calm sigh, understanding nods, and some words of motivation and real-talk. It was fairly obvious that they’d been there before. And so have a multitude of other scientists around the globe. It is not a new development for a scientist to suffer from anxiety or depression or any other illness (physical or mental). It is, apparently, totally normal. And hearing about others’ experiences really helps to grasp the reality of it and understand how to manage your experiences when they happen.
I won’t go into detail, but I will link a few blog posts on the topic, because I think it’s highly beneficial for people, particularly people in the scientific community and adjacent, to acknowledge and understand some of the points raised. For convenience, here’s a tiny summary (I’m usually terrible at summarising, so be grateful):
- scientists and academics are not robots
- as with any challenging, competitive research career, emotions run really high, and people have different ways of coping
- depending on the person, career stress can either motivate them or tear them down
- if you’re not going to be supportive of someone who is very obviously experiencing stress or anxiety, please withhold comment, rather than shaming them
- it’s important to be honest with yourself about the causes of your anxiety, if you’re able to isolate the roots (i.e. don’t blame your work if it’s really because of personal issues, because your work might be essential to you overcoming your anxiety)
The above is by no means an exhaustive list, and again, I highly recommend reading the posts listed below.
Let me end off with an excerpt from one of them:
“[…] we need to be more accepting of diversity in science, including that people with different personalities and different attributes can contribute to science and academia.”
Also, it’s totally okay to cry ❤
A final word of thanks to Sarah Andersen for her super honest and relatable comics featured above (copyrighted to Sarah Andersen), and to Meghan Duffy, an ecologist at the University of Michigan, and the author of a blog called Dynamic Ecology, from which I sourced the posts featured below.
- There is crying in science. That’s okay.
- Academics are humans with human emotions and problems
- Life as an anxious scientist