Academia: No pain, no gain? Jet's story of illness, diagnosis and the road to recovery

After reading Lauren’s and Currer’s stories that chart their experiences with depression during and after their PhD studies I was struck by the common threads about frequent occurrences of physical symptoms such as pain, fatigue, exhaustion and, unsurprisingly, lack of motivation. While studying at MA level when I was a part-time student with a young baby the experience of constant fatigue, headaches and short tempered mood was so common I just accepted the conditions as a normal part of my life, a consequence of having to work hard to achieve the much desired academic goal of a higher degree. This isn’t to say there were never good moments in my life at that time, but I am amazed at how the whole culture of academic postgraduate study normalises over-work and the many stresses that go with it. If you’re not anxious over the quality of your academic performance then you’re perceived as a slacker and as someone who doesn’t care enough. Academia expects postgrads to show how passionate they are about their subject and that passion often is performed through personal sacrifices. While this expectation is never made entirely explicit, it is certainly implicit and internalised by PhD students. Unfortunately those personal sacrifices can materialise in poor physical and mental well-being. My experience of sacrifice also moved in this direction and had a devastating outcome during my second year of PhD study. I should have seen the bad signs when I was studying at MA level, but the reward of finishing with a Distinction and being patted on the back by my tutors, academic husband who saw moving on to PhD as a natural progression from a successful MA, was enough to fuel my energies to carry on in academia, in spite of it all.

I relate very much to Lauren and Currer’s hesitations about accepting their ailments as those that were related to depression, or as Currer’s physician put it, her ‘pain was mental…Mental like your body no longer realizes how to process serotonin and so you don’t sleep and you always feel anxious’. The culture of academia in many areas relies so much on an ideal of the rational, knowing subject who is in ‘control’ that is difficult to admit to feelings of vulnerability or instability, especially when connected with one’s mental health. In Lauren’s and Currer’s cases, drawing on therapy and anti-depressant medications were positive solutions that helped set them in more positive directions during and after their academic and post-academic anxieties. My experience of illness, I am convinced, was prompted by frequent anxieties about my work never being good enough, which led me to work into early morning hours, often having to still wake early with my two young children and then research/write and/or teach in the day. At this time my daughter was only five and my son eight, still young enough to have many demands and the usual run of illnesses that required them to stay at home from nursery care or school. With my mind often racing with work-related ideas or worries I frequently experienced sleep problems. It was unsurprising that fatigue and regular headaches (from a longer history of headaches) was a norm in my life. Wasn’t this all part of the course in academia, I justified to myself. I watched my academic spouse work extended hours to be able to succeed in his career and I knew I would have to pay my PhD dues as well. When I continued to experience back and neck ache from spending so much time at a desk I told myself that more exercise would solve everything, from the endless stream of colds and sinus infections to the headaches and sleeplessness. The problem was the more time I allowed myself to spend on exercise or have family time, the more I felt I had to make up my lost research/work time. So the endless cycle of work activity continued until my body finally screamed out for help. It had enough.

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After I had recovered from a sinus infection I experienced a strange numbness in my mouth on the tongue and then the inside cheek area. This was around the same time I found I was forgetting things like my own phone number, which I laughed at and put down to being overloaded with academic reading. The sensation moved to my neck and face with tingling and eventually to my eye when I ended up with double vision. A doctor friend reassured me and said it must be shingles – very common, don’t worry. This came during the Christmas break so I was pleased to have some time off.

When the vision problem occurred my husband got me to the doctor who referred me to a neurology consultant for an MRI. The results showed I had multiple lesions on the brain but he never mentioned Multiple Sclerosis at that point. We were all relieved I didn’t have a brain tumour and I was told this was ‘inflammation’ that can occur after an infection. The double vision lasted almost a month and the tingling/numbing eventually passed – I was happy to move on and forget about it. It wasn’t too long afterward that when a full, second ‘episode’ occurred which knocked me back completely. Soon I was in bed, the whole body numb and it was difficult to move and walk. I made it to the hospital for more consultations and later tests and Relapsing Remitting Multiple Sclerosis was confirmed. I was in such a bad way, both physically and mentally, that I had to suspend studies straight away. In the end I opted to take a year out of studies with the full support of my supervisor. After a short fix of steroids it took months to recover more fully and longer to begin to feel a bit ‘normal’ again. My option of weekly injections of Beta-Interferon (which I gave up on) caused horrible side-effects including more headaches and the possibility of depression. Well, at that point I finally admitted I had a lot to feel depressed about and I was indeed pretty miserable. I took antidepressant meds which were initially prescribed to help take care of the numbing sensations but they also helped the mood problems. The UK National Health Service even offered a free counseling service through the General Practitioner's office. I put that on hold until I was ready to face the range of issues that all of this introduced.

Eventually when I was well enough to get around physically I searched for therapies that would help me recover psychologically. Much of this recovery process had to do with my perceptions of my new health condition, and the rest had to do with how I would proceed with the prospect of carrying on the PhD. I had experience with therapy in the past and found many benefits, but this time I saw that my pattern of anxiety and worry around academic work, in particular, possibly needed another method of care. I tried acupuncture for a bit as a way of attempting to manage some of the physical pain and other symptoms and also because I heard its value could be found in the talking part of the consultation.

Later I tried hypnosis and found this option very rewarding. We spent lots of time talking about my history of anxiety and current state of health with RRMS. I was a good hypnosis subject for sure, as I was able to go under so easily. My hypnotist structured the session especially for my needs and later made me a recording that I could use on my own, which I used regularly and still use every now and then in my present life. The hypnosis as a form of therapy helped me return to my studies with more confidence but also helped me to begin to think more about what I really wanted out of my working life in the future. It was at that point that I had major doubts about pursuing an academic career. I thought, if I carry on it will have to be at a slower pace and on some of my own terms. I considered giving the PhD up (I felt so much better when I had time away from it) but I could not escape the feelings of ‘What if?’ Having got that far I talked myself into finishing (and all my academic colleagues and husband pushed me in this direction too) and told myself if I hadn’t found a permanent academic post, preferably a part-time job, a year or so after graduation then I would rethink my choices. It all became much more complicated later on when I did finally find myself in transition out of academia. There were no permanent part-time lecturers’ posts in my field within a reasonable distance from home. By this time there was a new government in office in the UK and Higher Education cuts were brutal across the arts and humanities. I continued contract teaching, but I was really just buying some time before I had a better plan in mind. In the back of my mind, particularly since my MS diagnosis, I think I always felt academia was not going to work for me. I didn’t want to return to the culture of self-sacrifice at all costs. If I was going to manage this new chronic health condition, avoid future relapses and stay on my feet I had to take care of the self and say no to academic craziness.

My story of ‘therapy’ and ‘recovery’ from MS, or at least recovery from the impact of a devastating MS episode, and academia is a bit complex. My Relapsing Remitting Multiple Sclerosis did not come on merely because of academia – it would have visited me at some point -  but these early episodes, I believe, were triggered by all of the stress and anxiety that the PhD studies brought on. In a way I am grateful that having MS has forced me to rethink carefully the way I need to manage my working and family life. It has forced me to think hard about what I really want and about what makes me happy. For me, MS and a teaching/research academic career are a bad match. It’s taken some time to get to the point where I have accepted this fully and found ways to look outside of academia for meaningful work. Living with MS means I am reminded that nothing in my future can ever be certain. MS is what some have called ‘The unwelcome visitor’. But I’ve realised also that life itself introduces a whole bunch of these uncertainties every day. In some ways that realisation has helped me when planning my exit out of academia into a different, unknown work-sphere.

My advice around coping during your postgrad studies and/or when dealing with the many anxieties when transitioning out of academia is to pay close attention to the signs that your body is giving you and don’t dismiss them as just another ache and pain and sacrifice that goes with the PhD territory. We need to reject the ‘No pain, no gain’ mentality and begin to take care of the self in ways that will accept the limitations of the body. Listen to your own instincts, take care when care is needed, and be open to a range of therapeutic options that might be available to you.

Currer's "Pangs" at Leaving Academia: Stress and Phantom Pain

Sometimes the toll of leaving academia manifests itself in "funny" ways. For me, this meant never-ending infections, gastrointestinal issues, and chronic pain. As I was wrapping up my degree, applying for non-academic jobs, and preparing to graduate I realized I felt poorly all the time.

Initially, I assumed a host of minor ills had all decided to randomly hit me at once. Later, I thought I had pinched a nerve in my sciatica. Yet no matter how much rest I got, the pain never improved. Then the pain spread. What started in my posterior and upper thighs spread to my left arm, then my upper back, then my lower back, then my right arm, and then my right leg. My entire body felt like burning. Tingling, shooting pain with a little side order of a persistent head-in-a-vise headache. Frustrated and confused, I decided to go to a local urgent care center. (I write in greater detail about my experiences here.)

My doctor informed me that my pain was mental.

Me: "Mental? Like you're saying I'm some kind of hysterical 19th c. housewife?"

Doc: "No. Mental like you've been under tons and tons of stress for at least a year, if not longer. Mental like your body no longer realizes how to process serotonin and so you don't sleep and you always feel anxious. No sleep and anxiety=pain. Chronic, migratory pain. Instead of doing a hundred thousand dollars worth of diagnostic testing, looking for something rare, I'd like to put you on a temporary round of antidepressants and see if we can't sort this out."

At which point I promptly burst into tears. You'd think I might feel happy to hear I wasn't being handed a death sentence or a life-threatening illness. But, nope. All I felt was CRAZY. Crazy, weak, and like a failure for not managing my stress better.

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Me: "I'm not taking antidepressants! I can do this on my own! I'll exercise more! I'll relax! I'm not a quitter! Everyone takes antidepressants now and most people don't even need them. I won't be a statistic!"

Doc: "Well, don't take them. Live in pain. Or take them and feel better. Youve got two choices."

When he left, I sat there feeling ashamed, embarrassed, and like a loser. Logically, I knew that there was nothing wrong with therapy, antidepressants, and/or mental health issues. (For fuck's sake. One of my primary research areas is disability studies! )My dear friend accurately and clearly reassured me that this was a chemical issue, not just mental. Like a diabetic who needs insulin, my body was not operating right chemically. But, this rational knowledge of the circumstances, my body's rebellion did not fit my neat, orderly Type A overachieving picture of self-control. Ultimately, I swallowed my reservations, dealt with my shame, and took the pills. I'm so glad I did.

Since my diagnosis I feel much better. My medicine does wonders for my sleep. Since taking my medicine I haven't experienced that kind of pain again. Getting help for my phantom pain was the best decision I could have made. At the end of the day, the only one who made me feel any stigma about taking antidepressants was me.

For any of you readers who might be on the fence about seeking help for depression, anxiety, or phantom pain, I hope this helps. You'll be glad you sought treatment.

Should I Quit? Definitive answers here!

Just kidding. Sorry. We can't tell you if you should quit. We truly wish we could be an Academic Magic 8-ball and give you that confirmation you're looking for.

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The collaborators of this website have gone in circles over how to answer this question. Should you quit? We all grappled with it in different ways, for different reasons.

Below, we'll link to dozens of articles and essays that ask the questions should you quit, why should you quit, what are good reasons to quit, etc. Then Lauren wraps it up with a few thoughts.

* * *

Reframe your concepts of "leaving," "quitting" and failure with our article here. There are tons of great reads that will stoke the fire of your indignance and make you feel like less of a chump (you are not a chump, but you probably feel like a chump).

This May 2012 article from The Guardian discusses reasons that Chemistry PhDs -- especially women -- decide to leave academia:

The participants in the study identify many characteristics of academic careers that they find unappealing: the constant hunt for funding for research projects is a significant impediment for both men and women. But women in greater numbers than men see academic careers as all-consuming, solitary and as unnecessarily competitive. Both men and women PhD candidates come to realise that a string of post-docs is part of a career path, and they see that this can require frequent moves and a lack of security about future employment... Women more than men see great sacrifice as a prerequisite for success in academia.

Karen Kelsky @ The Professor Is In assures us that "IT'S OK TO QUIT":

What starts out as an inspired quest for new knowledge and social impact can devolve into endless days in an airless room, broke, in debt, staring at a computer, exploited by departments, dismissed by professors, ignored by colleagues, disrespected by students. It is ok to decide that’s not what you want.  It is ok to make another choice.  There is life outside of academia.

JC has written an entire series called "Reasons I'm Leaving." She also did a more academic, less personal, series called "A Sociologist's View on Leaving" that's worth reading as well.

Julie Clarenbach has a lot of suggestions for weighing this important decision in "How can you tell if you should leave academia?"

Get rid of the shoulds. If you take a break from telling yourself what you “should” do, what do you WANT to do? Does anything on your to-do list sound fun? We spend so much time learning by watching in this career that it can be hard to notice what we need to make this work for us. Maybe your colleague can grade four papers a day and get them all done efficiently, while you really just need to set aside five hours in front of Glee reruns. If that’s your way, having “grade 4 papers” on your to-do list every bleeping day will likely make you want to stab your eyes out. And that will affect everything else.

You “should” serve on committees, you “should” contribute, you “should” teach a certain way, you “should” write a certain kind of essay — what happens if you drop the stories?

(Dropping the "shoulds" was huge for me.)

Grad school made Caroline Roberts puke. No, really. Stress is no joke: it really can destroy your body and make you crazy. It doesn't really matter if you "should" be stressed out. You just are. It's not weakness. Caroline also has some amusing and very helpful reactions to a bunch of advice columns that focused on grad students here.

Bottom line: only you can know if it's time to go. From my personal perspective, I think any reason is a good reason to quit. I don't think you need to hit some magical threshold to have a "good enough" reason to quit. It seems like a lot of folks consider quitting for a long time, and then there's a "straw that broke the camel's back" that pushes them into actually quitting -- a missed deadline, a rejection letter, a disappointing interview, a conversation, a revelation. I could say "I quit grad school because I had a disagreement with my advisor," but it was really so much more than that: years of accumulated stress, debt, fatigue, and frustration. If you want to quit, you can quit. Really. You don't have to justify it to anyone except yourself.If you're considering quitting, and are stressing out over should I, should I, I challenge you to flip the script: ask yourself why you should stay. What's keeping you here? What are you getting out of academia? What's the reward? You might be surprised how short that list, how flimsy.

Before You Leave ... Take Advantage of Your University Benefits

If you know that you're planning to leave your grad program or faculty job in the near future, one thing that I'd recommend you do is to think about any good benefits that you get through your position at the university ... and go take advantage of them for the last time (or for the first time!).

Unlike people in the nonacademic world who put in their two weeks' notice at a job (or worse: are fired or laid off without notice), you will most likely have a few months or more where you will know you're leaving but where you haven't officially "left"  yet. Therefore, you will still be able to take advantage of any good benefits or perks you get through your academic position.

And I think that - now that you know you're leaving and you aren't working on academic stuff 24/7 anymore - you should take full advantage of as many of the perks of university life that you possibly can.

Now, of course, we can't tell you exactly what "things" you should take advantage of. Every university and department is different, and the perks of being a tenured faculty member as opposed to a grad student or an adjunct are vastly different. And you obviously shouldn't do anything unethical or that might get you into trouble. Don't download the entire archives of The American Journal of Basketweaving to post on the internet, and don't ask your department to fund your trip to a conference in six months if you haven't told them you're leaving in three.

But while you're moving through the odd in-between period where you know you're going to be leaving but you aren't gone yet, you should take stock of the various things you have access to as part of the university, and see if there are any that you should take advantage of while you still can.

• Maybe you've met the deductible on your health insurance. It might not be a bad idea to squeeze in a couple of doctor visits or a few extra prescription refills before you switch to a brand new plan with a new deductible (or, gulp -- no insurance at all. See our other articles on covering these necessities here.).


• Maybe your university offers discounted computer software or upgrades to faculty and students (that can be taken with you when you leave). If so, maybe it's time to take a quick look at what's available to you.


• Many schools subscribe to e-learning services like Lynda or Skillsoft, which are a great way to learn technical skills (website design, Excel, Photoshop, javascript, social media marketing, etc). A subscription to Lynda costs an individual $250 but might be free to you as a student -- spend your time learning skills you might actually use at a job.


• If you get free dental cleanings or psychotherapy visits through the university, you might want to get one more before you go. If you've been meaning to download that document that has your great-grandfather's signature on it from Ancestry.com through your university's subscription, now's your chance.


• Has your spouse been wanting to take a class at your university using your tuition discount? Do you keep forgetting to print out a copy of your last publication, just so you have it? Have you been wanting to check out that free kickboxing class at the university gym? Have you always meant to use your student/faculty discount to go to the opera or theater or sporting event or whatever other university events you've always been interested in? Now's the time for season tickets to women's basketball! Have some fun -- really!


• Don't forget about your institution's Career Services office. They can help you practice interviews, polish your resume, and likely have some inventories and career search resources available for free or at a discount. Check those out now!

Well, now you know you're leaving ... you're not feverishly working toward the next step in your academic career anymore. So now's the time to do that stuff.

Think about the things you have access to, the benefits that are going to be worse at your next job, or the things you've always meant to take advantage of but never did ... and while you're waiting to move onto your next step, do them. Save yourself a little money and/or have a little fun. You deserve it.

Lauren's Experience with Depression During & After Grad School

If I could tell all y'all who are considering going post-ac or becoming grad school quittas one thing about mental health issues in academia, it would be this:

Depression doesn't feel like you think it does.

I wish I'd known this eight years ago, when I started experiencing what I now recognize as symptoms of depression, but what I thought were thyroid problems, or PMS problems, or motivation problems. I thought depression would be like, crying all the time. Feeling "sad." I had images in my mind of damsels in distress on fainting couches.



But depression has manifested very differently for me.

For many years, while I was a grad student, depression manifested as physical symptoms, like: stomach problems, excessive fatigue, lack of energy and motivation, heart palpitations, and changes in my menstrual cycle. I experienced intense emotional swings and was distractible to the point that I couldn't finish end-of-semester projects on time. I thought it was my thyroid, but my tests came back fine. I thought it was "adrenal fatigue" or some kind of nervous exhaustion brought on by an intense summer of graduating/moving/getting married, but it lingered years beyond that event (and adrenal fatigue is bunk, fwiw). When my acerbic doctor mentioned the possibility of a "mood disorder" I dismissed it completely out of hand. How could my mind wreak such havoc in my uterus? In my aching legs?

I truly believed I could "think" my way out of unhappiness. If I just found the right field of study (I switched PhD programs). If I could just find the right career path (anxiety about jobs preoccupied me from the moment I matriculated in 2004). If I could just find the right areas of focus for comps. If I could just hit on that perfect diss topic that hasn't already been done, that will make me excited enough about school to motivate me through the rough patches. I believed what this erroneous and wrong article promotes about depression in grad school: eventually I would pull myself out of it. I sought the help of a talk therapist at that time, and joined a grad student support group, and both of these helped a lot, but the problems persisted. As we've said elsewhere, graduate students are more likely to suffer from mental health problems, and of them, women suffer the most.

Five years ago, I started my second PhD program (having taken an MA in my first) and gave birth to my oldest daughter. Two years later, her sister arrived, an unexpected joy. The stresses and responsibilities of "real life" piled on top of my internal struggles with grad school. Bone-deep fatigue beyond anything I could imagine. Intense stress over childcare and finances. My children were chronically sick during much of this time. My marriage was on the rocks. For over a year, I felt lucky to make it out the door at all, let alone make progress on my comps exams while balancing family and teaching duties. I sought the help of a therapist again, and again, it was very helpful, but the underlying hopelessness remained.

Finally, I couldn't do it any more, and I quit grad school during the 5th year of my 2nd PhD program. I hoped that the freedom, the relief, would cure what ailed me, but (perhaps unsurprisingly) it did not. In "Fallout: The Psychological Debt of Grad School," I write:

Thing is, this has been a tough six months for me. Quitting grad school is incredibly difficult, as we have documented, and I have struggled with it. But really, it’s more than that: quitting grad school shook me to my core, and now it’s bringing up a bunch of really messy, dark stuff that’s been dormant, too. I’m now dealing with deeper, more longterm problems that have been on hold or deferred or ignored while I was in grad school. The last 2-3 months have been extremely hard for me, emotionally, even though on the surface everything worked out fairly well (I have a good job and necessary income: things could be so much worse). But I liken it to lifting up a rock and peering at all the gross stuff beneath. Or cleaning a room that seems rather messy but then you get in there and realize, oh shit, this is going to take me all day. The depression and unhappiness that led me to quit grad school is just the tip of the iceberg. The confusion and identity shifts that quitting brought on go way deeper than just the vocation I was aiming for, or the kind of student I wanted to be.

I never became suicidal, but I did often wish I could just disappear. I couldn't walk away from my problems, and I couldn't solve them, so I wished I could just go away and have my mind be quiet, for once.

Nine months after quitting grad school, I saw a psychiatrist. She was very nice (and she has an MD and a PhD -- double trouble!) and asked a series of questions. I told her that I'd had a moment where I sort of "zoomed out" and looked at my life for the last ten years and realized I'd spent more time being stressed and unhappy than I had being content and pleased. I said I was fearful that I didn't know how to experience happiness. She said, Yeah, well -- that's called depression. She gave me a prescription for Lexapro. I started taking it every night. I also started up therapy again.

At first I was just sleeping better (it is a sedative, after all). Within a week, I noticed that I wasn't so edgy. I was more patient with the girls and felt less tense and like I might scream if someone asked me a question one more fucking time. A few more weeks passed and I started picking up projects that had languished for a long time. I started feeling genuinely happy. I could sit on my couch and enjoy it in a way I'd never been able to before. I always had this raw internal emotional reality, a sense that I should be doing something, a sense that something was off, often a sense that I should feel happy right now but was not happy. Now that I am on medication, I don't feel that grating grumpiness inside very often. I just feel happy. I smile inside.

I wrote a long post about this at my own blog, but I want to reiterate something I stated over there:

Treating my mental health problems has been so transformative that I hate to think others are out there suffering. If you’ve ever thought you might benefit from treatment from depression or anxiety, if you’ve done the therapy thing but feel stuck, if you have been down for so long you don’t remember up, please consider contacting a psychiatrist and trying something new.

Consider contacting your University's student counseling or faculty/staff counseling service. Call a community resource center and ask about low-or-no cost counseling. See if student health has a psychiatrist on hand, or what your insurance will cover if you have it. (I do recommend talking to a psychiatrist, versus a generalist, about medication.) I just can't tell you what a huge difference it made in such a short amount of time.

 

If You Are In Crisis: Hotlines and Other Emergency Help for the Distressed Post-Ac

If you are feeling suicidal or are in a serious, can't-take-it-anymore crisis, there are people out who can help. Please don't hesitate to call one of these numbers or to reach out for help. Grad school and academia can be sites of tremendous stress and anxiety and isolation, and you are not the first person to reach a crisis point. You are not alone, and there is help out there for you.

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The Kristin Brooks Hope Center has a dedicated crisis line solely for grad students anywhere to use: 1-800-GRAD-HLP (472-3457)

From their site:

Recent studies have shown that the pressures of academic performance, finances, advisor relationships and other factors create intense anxiety for many graduate students, bringing some to a dangerous point of crisis.

That's why we've come up with the National Graduate Student Crisis Line -- a toll-free, 24-hour hotline staffed by highly trained phone counselors who understand the unique issues faced by grad students like you.

Please don't hesitate to call. These people understand what you're going through, and they are here to help.

If you are thinking about harming yourself, please call the National Suicide Prevention Line 1-800-273-8255.

For more general suicide prevention and crisis hotlines, check out this site. They list national hotlines as well as links to organizations and crisis lines for every state in the U.S. As that site states: crisis counselors are waiting for your call. They are there to help. Don't hesitate.

If you feel like you are not in immediate crisis but still need help, please contact a mental health professional in your geographic area. Listings for licensed therapists and counselors and other mental health professionals can be found in your local phone book and the internet, as well as through many insurance company websites. If you are still employed or enrolled at an institution, find out if they have a faculty/staff counselor or student counseling service that can help you for low or no cost. This is how a lot of us get help when we're sick and tired of feeling sick and tired. Community health services are also a great place to look, as well as women's resource centers.

Many therapists will schedule quick appointments for people in crisis, and many charge on a sliding scale. Don't be afraid to make some calls. They are there to help.

And don't be embarrassed to seek help. I've done it, as have many people I know both inside and outside of academia. (Me, too! And me, too! Chime in the co-editors of this site.) Going to a therapist doesn't make you crazy or broken. It just means that you need an impartial person to give you some perspective on what you're going through.

Grad school and academia can wreak havoc on your mental health ... we all know it. Grad students joke about popping antidepressants and about how they're too anxious and overworked to sleep. I'm willing to bet that every single person reading this post right now can think of at least one time when they had some type of emotional breakdown over their academic work - a crying jag, a panic attack, a screaming fit, or maybe just a few days where you could not motivate yourself to go to campus (or even get out of bed). It's not just you who feels this way. A 2009 article in the Chronicle of Higher Education (subscription required) summarized some major findings about the mental health of graduate students, and the findings were not good:

At the University of California at Berkeley, 67 percent of graduate students said they had felt hopeless at least once in the last year; 54 percent had felt so depressed they had a hard time functioning, and nearly 10 percent said they had considered suicide, a 2004 survey found. By comparison, an estimated 9.5 percent of American adults suffer from depressive disorders in a given year.

You are not alone, and there is no shame in asking for help. Please, if you are in crisis, make a call.

And please: don't end your life over academia. The world is better off with you in it. The transition out of academia is tough and the chasm can feel deep, but we truly believe you can lead a happy life outside the ivory tower. Get help through the roughest patches.