Category Archives: depression

Mental health in academia

depression, personal reflections

This post has been inspired by a couple of recent posts on the Guardian Higher Education Network website. It represents my thought and experiences. If it helps others I welcome that.

The growing awareness of mental health in academia is to be welcomed. I had my own experience of ‘coming out’ about my depression to myself, my doctor, my family, friends and colleagues. In accordance with stereotypical male behaviour I tried to avoid ‘bothering’ the doctor for at least two or three years. I was worried that I would be labelled ‘a hypochondriac’, or worse still be put on strong medication which would render me unable to function at work and in life generally. I feared a treatment worse than the disease.

Even after starting treatment I didn’t tell anyone what was going on. The only people who knew to start with were my wife and my doctor. After a few months of taking medication (which actually got working quite quickly) I wrote about my depression on my blog. Lots of people supported me and wished me well—family, friends, colleagues, strangers even. Several friends, mostly men my sort of age (late 30s), wrote to me about their own experiences. In many cases they too had hidden it from others.

One thing I’ve learnt in the past couple of years is that we seem to be talking about mental health problems a lot more. This might be due to my experience heightening my awareness, but this particular emphasis on mental health academia intrigues me. In my experience mental health struggles cross barriers of gender, class, religion, ethnicity, sexuality and occupation. Are academics really more prone to mental health problems than lorry drivers, builders, shop assistants, professional footballers, insurance brokers, nurses, unemployed people, elderly people, stay-at-home mums and dads etc.? Or are people with mental health problems somehow attracted to academic careers?

The Guardian Higher Education Network pieces seem to suggest that mental health problems in academia are worse than other professions or that academia is some sort of special case. Perhaps academia attracts people with mental health problems. These questions are beyond my expertise, so I default to my own experience here: As I came to contemplate the possibility of an academic career in the final year of my undergraduate degree I looked to academia as a higher calling. I saw what I believed was a highly ethical occupation where people respected each other, a true meritocracy where the best rose to the top, and nobody resented it. Maybe not the not paid job, certainly not the worst and an opportunity to live the life of the mind. 11 years post-PhD I now see that academia is a real job in the real world. I still regard it a special privilege, but I don’t see it so much as an exalted calling now.

Perhaps we also expect a community of thousands of people committed to critical thought in their respective fields of study to be a more supportive and understanding environment than other workplaces. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t.

Some, but not all the reasons behind my own depression related to my previous job. The last two years of that job were turbulent for reasons beyond my own influence or that of any of my immediate colleagues. My full time job become part time but the workload only seemed to increase. I took on more and more in the hope I could work my way out of the situation. I reassured myself that anyone who was not overburdened wasn’t working hard enough. Eventually I began to recognise that a change was necessary if anything was going to change. Having stabilised my health I was able to re-enter the job market and now have a job I am happy in and doing the sorts of things I’ve long wanted to do. It is not a weakness to look for opportunities elsewhere if the present situation isn’t working.

The only regret I have now is not seeing the doctor sooner. I regret visiting the doctor for other ‘physical’ ailments and not telling him/her what was going in my mind. Here’s my only direct piece of advice:  Doctors are not mind readers. If you are feeling depressed, anxious, afraid or suicidal you need to tell them. Don’t be too proud to get help. I’m still on the medication – I don’t know how long for – but seeking professional help has brought me to a much better place in every area of my life.

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I am not an accident: Battling and/or living with depression.

depression

I’ve not written about my experiences of depression for a while, and have my reasons for doing so. Recently I have been asking myself if my depression is something which I should battle with, or something I have to learn to live with.

I can only speak of my own experience of depression.  The only thing I know for certain about depression is that it affects everyone differently.

Although I’ve only recently  ‘come out’, I have experienced depression for a long time.  Although I didn’t realise at the time, my first bout may have come when I was as young as 11. At that age I didn’t realise that there was such thing as depression. I felt constantly ill, even though there was nothing wrong with me. The doctor gave me some tablets eventually.  I’ve no idea whether they were some sort of anti-depressant, anti-anxiety pills, sugar pills or indigestion tablets. Whatever they were they seemed to do the trick for a while.  A few months later the symptoms came back.  The doctor I saw on that occasion ‘prescribed’ putting Vaseline up my nose.

I suffered my first identifiable bout of depression in the summer after my first year of university, but it would still be (at least) another 12 years before I started to seek answers in the medical profession. Other periods of depression have followed. Many people talk about identifying triggers for depression. For me, my experiences have mostly been routed in some sort of human relationship experience (e.g. romance, bereavement, dispute).  In my own mind my life can be divided up into encountering certain individuals and events associated with them.  Not all these people are people I feel have wronged me in any way, but their own way they were central to my depression experiences.

Over the years I have met many people with depression or other kinds of mental health problems. Mental health problems do not discriminate by gender, religion, sexual preferences, educational background or wealth.

In the downtimes I think about what could fix my depression. A couple of years ago, when we were going through some reorganisation and possible redundancy, a career coach was bought in to help us. She asked a question along the lines of, “What would you do if you if won the lottery or had enough money you did not have to work or could do any job you liked, without having to worry about the salary?”. In the lowest points of my depression, such a question is impossible to answer.

I went to church this morning where Andrew Page  was preaching on Colossians 1vv.15-23

15 The Son is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. 16 For in him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things have been created through him and for him. 17 He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. 18 And he is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything he might have the supremacy. 19 For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, 20 and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross.

21 Once you were alienated from God and were enemies in your minds because of your evil behaviour. 22 But now he has reconciled you by Christ’s physical body through death to present you holy in his sight, without blemish and free from accusation— 23 if you continue in your faith, established and firm, and do not move from the hope held out in the gospel. This is the gospel that you heard and that has been proclaimed to every creature under heaven, and of which I, Paul, have become a servant.

Andrew said a lot about the passage, but the phrase which will stick with me most was:

“You are not an accident”.

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Coming out about depression 2

depression

Last week I was unsure whether or not writing about my experiences of depression was wise or not. I received many messages, both public and private from friends, family and colleagues wishing me the best, offering support and advice, and sharing their own experiences of depression. I am so thankful for all these messages. I would best describe it as a relief. Having gone public I plan to write a blogpost every so often, but I won’t be making this “John’s depression blog”.

One thing I understand for sure about depression is that everyone experiences it differently. You can’t tell if a person is suffering from depression just by looking at their demeanour. Last week many others came forward to tell me about their experiences of battling depression, anxiety and addiction. Like me, they don’t come across as depressed or unhappy. And perhaps like me the ‘darkness’ is not a 24/7 experience.

So why did it take me so long to a) seek treatment and b) start telling other people about it.

On the face of it these are separate questions, but in one respect they both have the same answer. I really believed that if I was ever diagnosed professionally as having depression I would be signed off work and become unable to cope with everyday life. And if others knew I was depressed it would become my main identity. I suppose this is part of the anxiety element. The prospect of being unable to work is not just a financial issue for me, but central to my sense of self. Some say that having too much of your identity invested in work is a big problem, but maybe I’ll write about that another time. Either way these fears are irrational. Recognising that you have a condition doesn’t suddenly make it worse.

I genuinely believe my depression to be fairly mild, but that does not mean it is not a problem. In the back of mind I almost felt the fact I was able to function at work meant it wasn’t proper depression.

My only real advice to anyone feeling depressed is to seek professional help. I’m one of those people who finds it difficult to talk about my feelings. Being a bad patient is also part of the problem—I never really told the doctor how I was really feeling. We all need to remember that doctors are not mind readers.

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