[LINK] Academia Is Killing My Friends

http://academiaiskillingmyfriends.tumblr.com/

Gathering anonymous stories of issues in academia — including harassment and mental health.

Decisions, decisions, decisions

It's been almost two months since my last post. I did make the switch to Tegretol and am now completely off the Depakote. I would say the transition has been successful. No strange side effects. No major setbacks. Moreover, my mood has been fairly consistent.

Since taking a medical withdrawal, I kept in touch with my advisor from the University. In mid March, I will be coordinating with faculty and my doctors to get my documentation together for the readmission process. A couple months ago, the thought to return was scary and brought much stress. In order to sort my thoughts out on returning I took up a suggestion of a previous therapist to create a CBT grid listing the disadvantages and advantages of going back to my PhD versus not returning. I won't reproduce the whole list but this was kind of the gist:

Advantages of returning to my PhD:

• Tuition covered plus stipend 
• Support from doctor, therapist and program
• Many opportunities I wouldn't otherwise have
• Passionate about the field of study
• Job opportunities
• The possibility to travel and do research
• Strong program and responsive and dedicated faculty

Disadvantages of returning:

• PhD programs are high stress and have high expectations, which could be a strain on my health
• Worry that I'm unprepared and/or made a bad first impression
• Might have to go back on a higher dose of medications or even make a medication change
• My current support won't be there

After writing up the list, I didn't look at it for sometime. Lately though, I've been reading and rereading it daily. Whereas there is a variety of advantages to going back, the core of the disadvantages centers around my health. I have never ever felt like my emotional dysregulation disabled me. It never felt like a crutch. Or something which held me back. But it's pretty obvious from looking at my list that my health concerns are a factor in whether or not I return to my PhD. 

It's crazy to think what this list might look like had I not had these health issues. But then again, I wouldn't have taken a medical withdrawal if it wasn't for my health. I could wonder what life would be like if it were only a little different but I don't think that kind of thinking would help my current situation much. For now, I'm clinging to my list. And taking it day by day.

The three difficulties; and self-esteem

I went out with friends tonight, mid-conference, to a pub I like here.

About three beers down, the conversation turned to mental health, and coping strategies, and related subjects. I started talking about my issues in the past, and present, and how I am now in the habit of consciously reminding myself that whatever my internal commentary track is telling me might not be the ground truth.

At this point, a (buddhist) good friend of mine interrupted me and told me about the Slogans of Lojong, and specifically about this one:

Train in the three difficulties

The first difficulty is to even see a neurosis for what it is. The second is to be able to deal with the neurosis, and the third is to deal permanently with the neurosis

(paraphrased from my friend's explanation)

He pointed out that my even being able to recognize my mood spirals for what they were, and able to try to tell myself to temper my trust in my intuitions based on my impression of my depression talking over my more sensible thoughts was already achieving the first of the Three Difficulties, and for him an ability well worth respect.

It is very helpful, at times, to be reminded that as far as I may feel I have yet to travel to some sort of sensible, workable, harmonious end-state in my relationship to my depression; where I am now is significantly further along than where I started.

 

Link: On Depression, and the Toll Academia Exacts

Jacqui Shine writes on depression in academia

Here's the thing, though: Graduate school doesn't make me depressed. Depression makes me depressed. 

Researcher Development assistance

http://www.theguardian.com/higher-education-network/blog/2014/mar/01/mental-health-issue-phd-research-university

The Guardian writes about mental health support system in universities for PhD students and academics; and the culture they need to overcome just to even reach the academics they could help.

On being the happiest person in the room.

I'm delighted to welcome a new contributor, Patch: I'm posting this but everything after this is written by Patch.

[Greetings. I'm Patch, a new contributor to this blog. Hope you enjoy my meaningless drivel. :)]

Often I am told that I appear incredibly happy, positive and optimistic. By often, I genuinely mean at least once a week. When I tell people that I am actually a clinically-diagnosed depressive with aspergers, anxiety and an eating disorder, the response is usually befuddlement.  “But you don't act depressed / anxious / socially awkward / etc! Surely it can't be that bad?” they exclaim, “You act happier than I do and there is nothing wrong with me!” they continue, shocked that someone with mental illness can appear to be as happy as a small child who has just discovered how to blow a raspberry. According to many of the people I converse with, having a psychiatric disorder makes me unable to feel joy, express delight or giggle with glee. They wonder what exactly my secret is. Weed? Copious amounts of alcohol? Mountains of prozac? Nope. I'm just good at finding things to be happy about.

Currently it's the fact that my Lush products arrived and they are making my flat smell absolutely delicious. It's the fact that the person who packed the products in the box wrote their name on the invoice with a love heart. It's a letter sent to me from a friend in the states. It's another friend promising to start a rock collection in my honour. It's my self stirring mug. It's the box of tissues I bought with a boat on the front. It's an email from my Geography tutor telling me not to worry that I couldn't get out of bed due to the flu because he also has it. It's my spotty duvet cover, my wind-up lego torch, my Thor figure, my replica of the ring of power, my mother sending me a picture of my dog, my hair defying gravity. It's the thought that someone has just read Harry Potter for the first time, that someone just laughed so hard they cried, that someone slipped on a banana skin and landed on their arse. The amusement of mishearing song lyrics, the fun of playing a videogame in a way that you don't normally do.  It's the little things, and finding humour in everything. I'm currently giggling because of the number of pills I have to take at the minute makes me sound like a maraca, and that is hilarious. It sucks that I need the pills, but there is a bright side.

It's a cliché for a reason, and it's not easy. Life does suck, and often I can't think of things that make me happy, but surrounding myself with things that did at one point can often be a helpful solution.

My flat is full of junk. Little knick-knacks that at one point made me smile and therefore might do it again. I have a small plastic figurine of Gandalf I bought on a whim. I have a lightsaber that doesn't light up but makes a great noise when opened to its full length. I have a box of teabags with googly eyes stuck to it – no reason, I just love googly eyes. On my worst days I will look at that box of tea, and no matter how bad I feel, how many new cuts I have on my arms, how much I want to jump into the north sea, I somehow manage to smile.

Preparing for the bad days on the good days is one of the best things you can do, and certainly one of the most useful things I have discovered in my 7 year long battle with mental illness. By planning for the worst and ensuring you have safe ways of improving your condition can save your life – it's definitely saved mine.

It's all the Neanderthal's fault...

"It's tempting to think that Neanderthals were already adapted to the non-African environment and provided this genetic benefit to (modern) humans," said Prof David Reich, from Harvard Medical School, co-author of the paper in Nature.

But other gene variants influenced human illnesses, such as type 2 diabetes, long-term depression, lupus, billiary cirrhosis - an autoimmune disease of the liver - and Crohn's disease. In the case of Crohn's, Neanderthals passed on different markers that increase and decrease the risk of disease.

Asked whether our ancient relatives actually suffered from these diseases too, or whether the mutations in question only affected the risk of illness when transplanted to a modern human genetic background, Mr Sankararaman said: "We don't have the fine knowledge of the genetics of Neanderthals to answer this," but added that further study of their genomes might shed light on this question.

Joshua Akey, from the University of Washington, an author of the Science publication, added: "Admixture happened relatively recently in evolutionary terms, so you wouldn't expect all the Neanderthal DNA to have been washed away by this point.

"I think what we're seeing to a large extent is the dying remains of this extinct genome as it is slowly purged from the human population."

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/science-environment-25944817