When I first started the program, I felt excited – but soon became discouraged by the constant need to shape and reshape my project as it was only getting underway. There was a lot of guesswork, a lot of adjustments, and no path taken seemed correct. I felt like I didn’t know anything, didn’t belong, and couldn’t stand the fact that things were changing every day. I was feeling hopeless and anxious about my future, and decided to start seeing a therapist. My therapist helped me understand that I should be reaching out to people instead of isolating myself. Due to their advice, the annoying changes became adventures. The project didn’t seem so daunting once I had people to share my thoughts with and to reach out to for help. It sounds simple, I know – but it took me a long time to get here. And now, I feel excited again.

It’s hard to figure out what kind of relationship I am supposed to have with my classmates. We’re sort of like co-workers but it also feels like we’re expected to be friends. When I first got to my program, I felt like a black sheep. All of my classmates seemed to be from the same wealthy neighborhoods and were just out of college. I had a family, was used to working in an office and maintaining some separation between my private and professional life, and had different cultural norms that seemed to clash with what the rest of the students did. The first year, where we’re all trapped in classes together, was especially hard. I felt judged for not going out with them every week and for not being as open about my private life as they were. I hated feeling like we HAD to be friends — with that heavy pressure to overshare to create closeness — a tactic that I remembered others using during my freshman year of college. It got worse over the course of the year, where it was clear I was being excluded from things. The work in grad school was already very demanding and isolating me from my friends/family outside of school. To also have to deal with these weird social politics in my department was hard. I figured I had to accept it for what it was and powered through the work and the discomfort.

By my second year, I knew more of the older students and finally felt like I had some friends. I also had more control over my schedule and could study things more closely tied to my interests, which helped enormously. I had the “aha! This is why I am doing this degree!” moment for the first time. It got a lot better, even though some of the weird social stuff remains. I just try to stay focused and curious about what is to come. I make sure I get enough sleep and I exercise regularly to deal with the anxiety and doubt that comes with grad school. I try to be open with my family and friends about what I am going through so they can support me in the ways they can. I found this last part is especially important — I tried to protect them from it for a long time, but that damaged my relationships. They wanted to be there for me and it seemed like I was hiding something. Sometimes I just needed to say aloud, “I feel sad and scared,” and they would acknowledge my feelings and tell me it was normal to feel that way. Those moments made me feel less lonely.

My roommate seems to have a very exploitative advisor, who won’t let his students take a break from working, even on weekends. She got depressed over her years at Princeton and has been seeing counselors for a few years. I’m trying to be a very supportive and caring roommate but I don’t think that is enough and I don’t know whom to turn to for help.

Positive affirmation and validation from peers and advisors for several years now has been a source of heightened anxiety and depression. This has largely occurred since this positive reinforcement and encouragement has been reconfigured from a source of comfort and guidance to being seen by me as a new level of expectations that people have imposed on me, and that I in turn need to meet and continue to strive past in every aspect of my professional life. Breaking this “pattern of disbelief” in recasting positivity as negativity has been greatly aided by therapy. It has become easier to see phrases like “you can do this” and “you continue to break new ground and set new bars” as beneficial to my mental health rather than debilitating and crippling. While my imposter syndrome is still alive and well, I am now better able to take these encouragements in a positive way rather than as something always needing to be surpassed.

I have PTSD as a result of an abusive childhood, and grad school has in many ways exacerbated the symptoms that I experience on a daily basis. Just a while ago, a professor behaved in an unnecessarily aggressive and dismissive manner towards me, and made me feel publicly humiliated. While other students would also find this experience upsetting, I found it triggering. Luckily, I have been going to therapy for years, and the skills I learned in dealing with “crisis situations” like these were very helpful in averting a full-blown panic attack. Grad school is tough, and individuals with pre-existing mental health conditions often have an even tougher time without others realizing it. That’s why I’ve always thought that the most important thing in academic and professional life is to be kind, even when you have to be critical.

A huge anxiety of mine is public speaking, which my program requires a lot of. At its worst, I would be completely wracked with anxiety before a presentation — I couldn’t sleep the night before, worked myself up to the point of extreme nausea the morning of, and in the hours/moments before a talk, my heart would pound so hard and fast that it was literally all I could hear. During the actual talk, I couldn’t control my voice, pacing, eye contact, or fidgeting. Worst of all, these extremely stressful experiences made me unable to enjoy the act of sharing research that I’m passionate about, or to be psychologically present while getting feedback and answering questions about it. Eventually I saw a psychiatrist and got prescribed medication (beta blockers), which help tremendously with the physiological symptoms of anxiety I would otherwise experience before a talk. No more pounding heart in my ears! I could actually slow down, engage with my audience, and have an enjoyable time presenting. This has been an absolute game-changer for me. After opening up about how much beta blockers have helped me, I’ve heard from others who also take them when they need to — including a very impressive professor who told me he takes beta blockers before high-stress presentations, even after being successful in the field for many, many years. Practice and exposure helps a lot and their importance can’t be under-stated, but I personally needed the extra help of medication, and I’m so relieved I was able to overcome my own internalized stigma to try something that has completely changed my relationship to public speaking.

My biggest stressor in grad school has been a communication issue with a mentor figure, which has resulted in roadblocks in my research progress and general feelings of non-belonging in my program. On bad days, of which there were many, this translated to rumination spirals that lasted several hours and almost always ended in crying spells. Seeing a therapist in town every week has been enormously helpful, as well as going on anti-depressants. It took a couple years, but I finally feel empowered in my research, teaching, and leadership and social roles on campus again. I feel like I’m going into the new academic year stronger than ever.