An Unreliable Mind: Being OCD in the Academy

Written by Clare Griffin 

I am writing the first draft of this on a flight home, feeling emotional after a crappy connection. Is it a good idea to start writing this now? Is it a good idea to write it at all? To publish it, where anyone could read it? What do I hope to achieve by this? How much will it hurt me to publish it? How much good could it possibly do? For me, or for anyone else? Do I mean everything I am saying? And will anyone believe it?

This, and a thousand other worries come to me on bad days, when the OCD I was diagnosed with a few years ago takes over. At some points in my life, all I had were bad days. Now, I have a lot of good days, and still some bad days, and the bad is manageably bad.

After much treatment, and much help, life is easier. Easier is not the same as easy. But some days, easier is everything.

My OCD rewrites the world for me. It pushes me into false certainties where only uncertainties lie. If a friend doesn’t reply to me, they must certainly hate me; yet I can only be uncertain as to the motivations of others. My mind can be unreliable, yet my work, my career, my life, rely on my mind and on my judgement. How can an unreliable mind be an academic mind? If I can’t always trust my judgement, how can anyone else?

My OCD gets me praise. If I have scrutinised every detail of a piece of work or of an event, my OCD will still have me check again, and again, and again, and again. I am early for deadlines, always there for meetings and the most reliable collaborator – until I’m not. Until the compulsion that drives me to check, and recheck, and check again, pushes my brain too far, and I have to lie in the dark to try to make it stop. How can I feel well in an Academy where other people look at pain and see productivity, see the shadow on the wall cast by a pathology and declare it a work ethic? How can I function here? How can I function anywhere?

And yet I know for certain - with actual certainty, not the false kind the OCD sends - that people with mental health and neurological problems are valuable, intelligent people. I know for certain that academics with these conditions make major contributions. I know for certain that those people who have been open about their conditions, and their problems, have helped me. Cartoonists, writers, presenters, literary studies scholars, and historians have all made important and beautiful works out of their pain. If I can unquestioningly accept the value of the intellectual work of other people - other creators and academics with problems like mine - can I accept the value of my own mind? Can I believe that other people will?

Why did I decide to write this? Is it to free myself from the prison of shame that keeping medical conditions private can create? Is it to find sympathy? To aggrandise myself or pity myself, or hurt myself? To martyr myself? Will I cause myself too much pain with the vain and self-important idea that I will help others by writing this? Will people react negatively to this? Or will they not even notice it? Have I disclosed enough to help people? Or have I exposed myself by sharing far too much? The reality I must live with is - I just don’t know.

About the Author

Clare Griffin is a historian of early modern science

Portrait photo of Clare who is 
dressed smartly and facing the camera 
in front of a plain background.

and assistant professor at Nazarbayev University, Republic of Kazakhstan. Her work focuses on global exchanges, practical knowledge, and translation, especially as this relates to the early modern Russian Empire.

Taking time off your PhD for recovery

Written by Daniel Rough

At some point in our PhD lives, nearly all of us experience feelings of self-doubt. We may feel that we aren't 'good enough' to be doing a PhD. We might feel like despite our best efforts, our progress has hit a standstill. The pressures of academic life can end up taking their toll on our mental health. Indeed, an article in The Guardian reported that there is a 'culture of acceptance' of mental health issues pervading academia (you can read this article here).

Cycle showing that lack of progress leads to stress and anxiety which in turn leads to lack of focus and a further lack of progress.

One part reads: "...I see students and academics who view the researcher development service as unnecessary. I see students who imagine using our services as an "admission of defeat". To come to us, is to announce that you are not a perfect researcher."

For too long, I felt this way. I felt that admitting I was struggling was to admit that I was incapable, that I was weak, that I wasn't cut out for this. "Everyone else seems to be doing fine, what's wrong with me!? I'm obviously not working hard enough" I'd tell myself again and again. I tried to ignore the fact that starving my body was starving my brain, but I knew I was caught in a vicious cycle where work was affecting my health, and health was affecting my work.

Taking a leave of absence was a lifesaving decision. Since returning to university, I've felt much happier, and able to manage my life better. I'd like to reflect a bit on the factors that helped my leave of absence to go well.

#1: Keeping busy

One thing that hit me when I went off on leave, is that I made the transition from overworking myself to suddenly dropping all work altogether. This took a lot of adjustment, and my anxiety shifted from "I've got too much work to do" to "I'm wasting my time being unproductive!" Despite being off to relax, it was having the opposite effect, aaaargh!

I recommend setting yourself a project of some sort. It can be anything that has you put your mind to something. As humans, we naturally thrive on the satisfaction of work (admittedly some more than others) and have a need to feel useful. Using my example, I would strongly recommend starting a blog! Being able to chart my progress, while exercising my creativity, gave me a sense of purpose.

Of course, don't go starting your PhD work again while you're off on leave. However, acquiring knowledge that could be helpful for your research and career is also a productive path to go down. Whether it be learning a new programming language, learning how to write in a certain style, or even learning how to organise your life goals.

#2: Staying connected

In the months leading up to my leave of absence, I became socially isolated. I worked hours that would minimise the chance of meeting anyone in the office. I would ignore any social opportunities, if anyone asked, I would reply "I have some work to finish off". The PhD is generally a sole undertaking; you work on it yourself and are responsible for the outcomes. That means when we stop communicating with others, stop maintaining a social life, PhDs can be very lonely indeed.

When off on leave, I had my family there all the time, who I could talk to about anything, positive or negative. Eventually I made an effort to meet up with friends, too. In time I realised the importance of staying connected with people. I'm not suggesting for a minute that this is easy. Feelings of disconnectedness and anxiety can make social interaction terrifying.

Take it slow. Even just sharing a post on social media or having a chat about the weather with the cashier in Tesco, learning to socialise again was a big step in my recovery.

#3: Enjoying hobbies

I feel that it's important to give yourself a sense of purpose while you're off on leave. Remember though, you're taking a break from work! One of the best opportunities that leave affords is time to pursue hobbies and interests. When you return from leave, maintaining a work-life balance is essential. Do you have anything you used to love doing that you've had to sacrifice? Or maybe it's a good time to find a new passion!

When we focus on nothing but work, it can be like putting all our eggs in one basket. If work is going well, then it's easy to be positive and motivated. However, when research hits a stumbling block, we all need something at the end of the day to make us feel better. Take your mind off work by going for a walk, reading a novel, baking a cake, whatever you enjoy! I wouldn't discount Netflix and chill either.

#4: Embracing change

Image containing the saying that "The secret of change is to focus all of your energy, not on fighting the old, but on building the new...".

At university, I had a routine, which became somewhat of a ritual. I felt extreme discomfort and anxiety in deviating from this routine. In returning to live with my family, I was no longer a slave to this routine. This took some getting used to, and initially it was quite frightening to not have those daily rituals.

In time, however, I learnt that I could cope without them. Routines are great and can keep us focused, but when we get tied into ritualistic behaviours, they can be damaging. Taking time off on leave is an opportunity to test yourself. Do something a bit different, shake up your routine. Again this is something I would take slowly, but it can be as simple as taking a different walk or having something new for lunch!

All in all

Taking leave may seem like a 'last resort' but try not to see it that way. Looking after your health is your top priority. With time to dedicate to your mental health, you can come back stronger and more focused. If a football player breaks their leg, they don't insist on playing as normal, they take time off to get better. Your mental health is no different!

About the Author

Photograph of the author

My name is Daniel, and over the last year I've been blogging about my recovery from anorexia at roughrecoveryblog.wordpress.com I want to offer my experiences, insights, struggles and achievements on my path to recovery. In doing so, my goal is to give hope and assurance to those in a similar situation. I’m 25, Scottish, and a PhD student at the University of St Andrews. Last year I took 6 months off my PhD to focus on anorexia recovery, during which I started my blog. Please have a look at this post on why I decided to take this time off. When I'm not researching or blogging, baking is my passion, and if I get fed up with the PhD, my fallback plan is to open a bakery 😃

An Undergraduate Perspective on Recovery

Written by Krishna Udaiwal

In the winter semester of my second year undergrad for philosophy/biology major, I underwent a period of uncontrolled pressure and a breaking point leading to severe depression & social anxiety, as well as cancelling the entire semester before the exams. It was a horrible experience, one which I wouldn’t prescribe to my worst enemies. During the worst of it, there was a breakdown event, loss of interest, severe self-deprecation and quarantine-like isolation. Fortunately, I took the seemingly irrational, but courageous, step to book an appointment with a doctor. Unfortunately, it was over 3 weeks after the initial month of agonizing despair, where hounding social anxiety tried to convince me to cancel the appointment (luckily, I hated using the phone or going outside even more). My decision wasn’t irrational and was the best course of action possible. It was the lowest consecutive time for me, where hearsay cases of micromanaging students ‘faking’ mental health conditions for advantage/grades (in my opinion displaced competitiveness from instructors) and my own lack of self-confidence/ineptitude initially deferred me from making that appointment. When learning of diseases & conditions the first lesson is to never self-diagnose, which is equally true for self-un-diagnosing mental health; you inherently cannot make an accurate judgment. It is essential to speak with a trustworthy source.

Once I spoke to the doctor (or General Practitioner, GP, in mental health lingo) it was obvious to them I needed medical help due to physical & mental signs, although some may not present any signs at all. The signs at my stage were tremors (without any stimulants), inability to look directly at someone, muffled speech, inability to focus or calm myself (these are self-observations post facto). GPs are, as they ought be, limited in declaring specific diagnosis & treatments in a single visit (for long-term diagnoses) as there may be false-positive cases (like hearsay cases) as mentioned before. As such, I was referred to a psychiatrist for in-depth analysis of my condition. For the immediate alleviation of my symptoms, I was conveyor-ed through a passive regiment of steps to recovery including counsellor visits to mitigate immediate risk and the psychiatrist diagnosis for long-term specific severity analysis. In addition, on-going appointments with my GP were booked immediately to ensure my condition did not break me off from seeking help, as very likely. Lastly, I was scheduled to speak with an academic counsellor to contemplate my options regarding my semester (they also immediately understood the gravity of my condition and weren’t intrusive, likely being used to such). Further medical treatments were thereafter discussed with the GP in consequent talks.

My GP was closely linked with the university healthcare network, so a passive & systematic approach was in-place to handle my situation. I could only hope to have a similar regiment should I have approached another unlinked GP, where an active search for information would be left up to the distressed student. Very likely, the student may have a better chance by breaking down the issue into personal rehabilitation & academic recovery.

Personal rehabilitation must necessarily take precedence, as the self-development requires a ready mind, which mental health issues take away. Self-development is necessary & core to studying at University. For my preservation, the actions undertaken were recurring GP appointments, counsellor visits, psychiatrist diagnosis and an appointment with the academic counsellor. The first three were part of personal rehabilitation and I would like to briefly summarize why they were necessary. Recurring GP appointments are, concurrent with the counsellor & psychiatrist appointments, for making the overall decisions in regards to personal rehabilitation options from mental health diagnoses. The treatment options usually include cognitive/speech therapy and medication. With each mental health disorder (anorexia, OCD, depression, etc) there are a multitude of different possibilities, so cognitive therapy and/or medication may work better alone or in combination. The psychiatrist is a specialized doctor who has the training and knowledge to accurately make mental health diagnoses, and to a much greater extent than a GP. Thus, GPs seek a psychiatrist’s diagnosis & recommendations, to determine if cognitive therapy and/or medication may be best. Any treatment prescribed depends on the patient’s approval, where patients may be against medication in some cases. In the case of depression, various medications target different neurotransmitters against potential chemical imbalance. Unfortunately, as causes vary and understanding is lacking, non-chemical imbalance causing depression leads to failed treatment by medication, off-putting many patients due to side-effects. Often, the timeframe towards making a diagnosis may be long, therefore a counsellor is needed to relieve pressure and defuse immediate thoughts of self-harm. A counsellor however is not a doctor nor is allowed to diagnose or prescribe therapies/medications to patients, but is very helpful towards the ongoing recovery. In summary, all three are usually needed for higher chances of rehabilitation.

Regarding academic recovery, it depends on your faculty, where different options may be present including cancelling the semester, deferring the exam (& shifting weight all to the exam), or continuing under variable accommodations discussed as per need. Unfortunately, my perspective is limited, as described previously, to what my academic counsellor allowed. I would not expect much creativity from academic counsellors however, as personal experiences & interactions highlight that they aren’t allowed to do much for undergrads anymore, more so within larger faculties.

Lastly, I want to mention during therapy, I learned that ‘suicidal thoughts weren’t normally present’ in healthy individuals. After partial results from treatment, it was apparently true. In addition, the rate of self-loathing thoughts decreased exponentially, as well as their severity, to metaphoric levels between bully-laughed at within a class of students to taking a vacation-nap on an isolated beach. Sure, the isolated beach may lead to some anxiety of unknown lurkers away from the beachfront, but only to such an amount that probability rules in relaxation. Since the hazardous time, I have also experienced that those vile thoughts can be relieved from socializing with trusted compatriots, which may be lacked within the isolated student. The academic environment where learning is secondary to undergrad hierarchy (GPA -> grants, graduate programs, competitive jobs, self-confidence to seek help/opportunities from instructors) reinforces that notion for introverts. After all, it is random chance that guides forming a friendship between two individuals.

I sincerely hope, if you are undergoing suicidal thoughts, you will talk to someone you can trust or a telephone helpline. Please don’t speak to former abusers, whom you have a history with no matter how optimistic. If you feel self-deprecating, seek a volunteer organization where people appreciate you so you can regain some of your spirit, this being my method towards personal well-being post-therapy. If you’re in a temporary crisis mode, or over-stressed, change your objectives to personal well-being immediately! An assignment or test can be deferred or re-weighted, but a breakdown has lasting consequences. You are not the first to be in crisis, and the faculty must accommodate.

If you feel of no consequence, let me know and I can try to brainwas—I mean encourage you towards some social causes I believe could use additional help (after some semblance of recovery of course). For instance, international agriculture, medical aid, food miles, local communities, cycling and botany.

 About the Author

Krishna Udaiwal, BSc, affected 2nd year of undergrad, dealing with the complications one at a time. Still impassioned & always reading on molecular life of plants and miRNA, aiming for MSc. Promoting science communication on Twitter, and always happy to help peers.

Giving Yourself Permission; especially for invisible illnessess

Written by Sophia Frentz

The most important thing I’ve ever learned how to do is to give myself permission.

If you’re reading this, it’s likely you’re an overachiever, that you’ve pushed yourself to (and past) breaking point multiple times, and that you’re not very good at saying no. I understand; I’m all that and more when it comes to toxic relationships with work. I’m pretty sure the only reason I survived my honours year is that the sound the heaters made at night scared me so I had to go home regularly.

My Coping Mechanism

When it comes to being chronically ill the most important coping mechanism is to give yourself a break. I have had depression for most, if not all, of my life. My anxiety and other brain quirks rear their heads when I push myself too hard. I’m good at ignoring them and getting on with work. I’m also good at getting distracted and forgetting to eat for a week. Neither of these are positive traits. When I gave myself permission (to be sad, to be afraid, to take days off, to take care of myself), a few things happened.

What happened when I cut myself some slack?

I stopped getting so defensive when people asked me about it. I’m constantly afraid of disappointing people in authority, but once I give myself permission to put my health first and told people that, there was very little argument. The people around you often want to be supportive, but can’t take your situation into account until you say “I’m taking today off because otherwise I will lie on the floor and cry instead of doing work”.

Secondly, I got healthier, happier, and more productive. This may seem obvious, but the “don’t do work to do more work overall because you’re not as sick” equation isn’t one I totally get. When I am sad or stressed, my go-to is to throw myself into work and yes, obviously that isn’t healthy or productive, but I liked it. Treating myself the way I would treat a sick partner made me better at research and happier with my life.

I became more confident. The pressures of being a woman in science means we’re not “meant to” have emotions (see: Tim Hunt’s failed “joke”). By giving myself permission to be “feminine” in the sense that I have feelings meant I was being myself a lot more, which made me a more confident researcher. It also meant I wasn’t bottling anything up, so my mental illness let up a lot. It surprised me how much of my anxiety was tied up in the fear of how people would respond to who I was.

Acceptance, Asking for Help and Healing

It also became easier to ask for help - I wasn’t hiding my mental illness any more, or pretending it was a “blessing in disguise” (I went through a few weird stages of relating to my mental health). Rather, I was allowing myself to have it and in the same step letting myself not be superhuman. I still don’t quite get along with the term “disability” but a fully healthy person probably couldn’t do what I push myself to try, so giving myself permission means taking a breath and not getting frustrated with my limitations. This resulted in me both thinking about my mental illness as an illness, and initiated getting on medication, which has been one of the best choices I’ve made.

Giving myself permission was instrumental when healing from trauma. At a recent talk about the barriers women in science face, a panel I was on was asked how we dealt with our personal barriers. I said that I cry a lot.  Allowing myself to cry, be angry, and to experience the full spectrum of human emotion has been invaluable. It has contributed to my growth as a human and as a scientist and has facilitated managing my illness while studying and working. 10/10 would recommend.

About the Author

Sophia Frentz is a PhD student in Genetics at the University of Melbourne with a fun cocktail of mental health issues, predominantly depression. She's learned a lot of lessons along the way but still struggles with giving herself a break.