Graduate school and mental illness...intertwined needs and success
Full Story
| Commentary Archive
| Topics: depression, recovery, schools, students
by KR. Avilés-Vázquez
Our success as graduate students depends on breaking down huge tasks into small, manageable goals. Coping with mental illness is a very similar process. Like any good "academic" whose writing and views mature with time and skills, resources to cope with mental illness are constantly acquired and retooled; change takes place one step at a time. Graduate programs can facilitate or hinder the skills we acquire, in turn shaping the experience and future contribution of the scholar-in-training.
My purpose here is to contrast two different institutional experiences to highlight the interconnectivity of graduate studies and mental health. By highlighting this relationship, I underscore the need for institutional support towards students with mental illness.
Transition into graduate school and into a realm of academic/scholarly social networks can be challenging. I say this coming from my own experience in graduate studies, where my first graduate program was unable to meet the challenges of mental illness, in my case severe depression. As I experienced depression, I faced a lack of support services, as well as a lack of staff and faculty training in mental health at both the departmental and administrative level. After starting my Master's program, a professor complained to my advisor about my performance in class: missed assignments, missed classes and a "defiant" attitude, all part of my depression diagnosis. The professor approached my advisor before approaching me directly with his grievances. I was not passing his class, and my attendance record did not improve despite his meeting with my advisor and the subsequent advice to just "get over myself." I complained to the administration about the professor's approach and his attitude towards me. While they agreed his actions constituted a breach of ethics, they responded that he was "old school" and did not believe in illness unless it was a visibly broken bone. Plainly put: there was nothing they could do and indeed nothing was done. I was simply expected to cope.
I entered graduate studies for the first time after the year 2000, when I first started experiencing symptoms of depression. At this time I sought the university counseling center, but after a tense relationship with the therapist, changing my original counselor was an uphill struggle. The counselors were overworked, and it was very difficult to get an appointment with any therapist. Furthermore, the majority of the staff at the counseling center were students. I faced the challenge of finding a counselor who would not be practicing with me or leaving in a few months because they were student interns. Appointments could only be made on the way out of that day's appointment, so by the time I made the next appointment, schedules were booked for weeks, if not into the next month. I found there was simply not enough time in two semesters to find another therapist. My severe depression also hindered my very ability to act and "move quickly." Needless to say, after that experience, I did not go to therapy on the campus again. I felt as if the most emotionally challenging time of my life was compounded by a lack of institutional support and simple understanding. Because of my lack of therapy, counseling and support, I almost failed to complete my MS.
Two years later, when choosing a Ph.D program, I wanted to consciously take into account all the factors that exacerbated my depression. I considered things that are generally deemed irrelevant for choosing a graduate program, but I wanted to focus on what would help my mental health and put "academic prestige" in the back burner. I was informed that if I truly cared about my career, things such as weather could not be a factor in choosing a PhD program.
Against career advice, I applied only to universities in areas where Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) would be the least pronounced, hence eliminating one of the factors that exacerbated my depression to levels of inaction every year. I got into a program that offered a good financial aid package, in a city that is beautiful and stimulating with many days of full sun. All of these conscious choices about money and climate went against my academic training, but have today helped alleviate my anxiety and depression.
The first semester in my current graduate program was difficult both academically and emotionally, but my social environment was different. As part of my department's welcome, all incoming students received a group orientation which allowed us to familiarize ourselves with campus institutions, and most importantly with each other and the department's faculty and staff. Other department orientations on campus offer similar advantages. Some departments have started to press for what they have observed their students need most, including mental health counseling. This first orientation, and the subsequent courses designed to transition students into the graduate program, allowed for a feeling of comfort that was absent in my previous experience.
Thanks to this more comfortable situation, I felt at ease speaking to the administration when my severe depression returned. The department's chair was understanding and supportive, and recommended going to the graduate office. At the graduate office, they helped me come up with alternatives to failing or dropping out of the university in case things turned for the worse. These alternatives took into consideration the last moment at which I could drop a class without penalty, taking a non-penalizing semester break from my program, and withdrawing from my program in the smoothest way possible. The graduate office made it clear that the goal was my success within the institution despite explaining the extreme option of complete withdrawal.
In my case, choosing an adviser became an instrumental part of my healing and my success as a doctoral student. As I started the new graduate program, the role of an advisor was explained as someone who you imagine yourself being as a teacher and academic, a role model. I was informed that an advisor should be someone whose interests may not directly mirror yours but whose personality and work ethic works with your own in a stimulating way. I chose a researcher that was sincerely interested in my work and a mentor who made clear his understanding of mental illness. One of the many things he did was become aware of my living arrangement, and checking up on me when I started to "disappear". He followed up with me directly about counseling and potential concerned faculty. The key here was that our work styles and personalities combined well, and instead of taking a retroactive or punitive approach to my problems, he became a proactive force that helped me to preempt my own potential episodes of depression.
After my first experience with therapy at a counseling center, it was very difficult to seek help at the new institution. I chose to seek out the university counseling center due to my own fears of losing control once more, and with the support and counsel from friends and mentors. My new therapist assured me the previous experience was not the norm and that it was my right to "shop around for a counselor that was a good fit." Knowing it is my right to change counselors reduced my anxiety towards therapy. I was also able to work with a therapist on a regular basis due to ease of scheduling. Steady counseling became a pivotal point in my life.
The tools I garnered from the Office of Graduate Studies, my advisor, my therapist and their recommendations, enabled me to connect with other offices that facilitated my way through the doctoral process. One such recommendation was to register with the Office of Services for Students with Disabilities (SSD). Initially, registering with SSD was a difficult experience, from my own fears of stigma. However, eventually my meetings with this office led to a feeling of empowerment and safety that was - until that moment - foreign to me. They provided tools and support to handle faculty and schoolwork, in addition to the counseling center. The joint recommendations and support were critical in setting realistic goals for myself, improving my performance, and successfully completing the candidacy process.
Academic prestige and resources for mental illness are not mutually exclusive or necessarily a tradeoff. Nevertheless, when choosing a graduate program one should consider those factors that affect our particular mental health. In my case it was weather, in tandem with the university program itself. My two, almost contradictory, graduate school experiences underscore the importance of a well staffed counseling center that can respond to individual needs.
From my first experience, I quickly learned that access to counseling and its efficacy are dependent on each university's commitment to the mental welfare of its students. University staff and faculty should be trained in what it is to live with a mental illness and the difficulties of speaking up for someone with mental illness. Even more so, universities should have a faculty and staff diverse enough so that any student can see him or herself reflected in them, and find mentors who can help guide and inspire our academic contributions.
Katia R. Avilés-Vázquez is a Doctoral Candidate at The University of Texas in Austin, with an interest in agriculture in the Caribbean, and the rights of migrants. Since her own recovery, she has been increasingly interested in the understanding and acceptance of mental illness, particularly within academia.
