I have a psychiatric illness. Can I still be a researcher?
It depends on how serious the disease is. But a psychiatric illness certainly doesn’t disqualify you. Case in point, I suffer from schizoaffective disorder and I’m a researcher.
But, how impairing is your illness?
When I have a serious psychotic episode, I need to be hospitalized, and I have a depression afterwards. I have been hospitalized several times in my life, for around 6 weeks at a time, and the ensuing depressions knocked me out for another 6 months approximately. I also regularly have minor episodes, which can entail between a few days and a few weeks of medical leave.
Besides this, I need to rest more than other people, both because of the medication and to prevent new episodes. That means that I have around 2 hours less per day compared to people around me.
I see. I also suffer from a quite serious disorder. And I would like to do a PhD, but I’m not sure that I can make it.
It is scary, indeed, to think of embarking on a PhD with a psychiatric illness in your backpack. If I were you, however, and if you have the okay of your doctor, I would give it a try. At the same time, I would engrave in my mind that I have a serious psychiatric illness and that quitting is an option. This way, if you need to quit you can remind yourself that this was a possibility all along, something that you had already foreseen could happen. And that you were very brave to try.
Let’s break down the worry, however, to see if I can help some more. What worries you the most?
I am afraid that, if my illness strikes, that will harm my career. I’m worried about the impact this can have on my CV. And also that people will not want to work with me because they think I’m not reliable.
I see. About whether your illness will harm your career or not, let me reassure you: it will. At least, compared to the career you could have without the illness. But, since having you without your illness is not an option (unless you heal, that is), what you need to see is whether you can do good enough work to be a researcher. And that’s the part where I’m optimistic, given my experience.
But, still, you say that my illness will for sure impact my career. How?
Most likely, it will slow it down. For instance, it took me six years to finish my undergraduate degree. A colleague of mine did her PhD part time because of mental health issues, and it took her two years longer than is customary in her country (she’s now a super successful tenured researcher). Try to be patient: As long as you can get funding for your research, I’d adopt “slowly but surely” as a motto.
But, how do you explain these delays to future employers?
Funny, I don’t remember ever having to explain; I don’t think anybody asked. In the early steps of my career, both for the PhD and the post-doc, I was funded by fellowships. Those only took into account the outputs (such as GPA and publications). And later in the academic path people don’t really look at how long it took you to finish your degrees anymore.
If you find that delays are an issue, you can e.g. apply for positions with people who already know you, and so know that you can do good work. But don’t worry about it unless you empirically find that it is an issue. This also applies to other potential worries —just go the empirical route, as we often worry more than necessary.
Ok, I’ll try. :) Any other negative effects that I can expect?
There is only one other major negative effect that I can think of: The illness is likely to narrow your choices down in terms of where to work and live, at least for some periods of your life. For instance, I had my first psychotic episode as an undergraduate, and I didn’t dare go abroad for my PhD. I still successfully pursued a PhD, but I did it in my hometown, where I had a solid network of family and friends, as well as great medical support. Luckily, my hometown is Barcelona —you can do worse. ;)
How about colleagues? Don’t you find that people don’t want to work with you because you let them down?
I have been AMAZED at how supportive everybody at work has always been. While in the beginning of my illness I was very ashamed, and didn’t want anybody to know, later I became very open about it. Nowadays, when I am sick, I explain what is going on. This is partly to raise awareness (I have become sort of an advocate), but also because it makes it so much easier to explain why I am unable to work. Invariably, in all four institutions I’ve worked at, people have been empathetic, caring, and willing to jump in and help.
Of course, I’m not sick all the time, and I do not let people down unless I’m sick. I am reliable, responsible and responsive, and capable of doing a lot of work. People know this, and have experienced this, and so they understand that it’s my illness that is preventing me from working as I usually do.
I understand that there is no getting around my illness having a negative impact on my career. Still, is there anything that I can do to at least lessen it?
The most important thing is that you manage your illness as well as you can. Note that I said “manage”. Some psychiatric illnesses heal, but others, like mine, become chronic, and they need to be managed, much like diabetes and other chronic illnesses. Even if you fully overcome your illness, which I really hope for you, as long as you have it I’d advise you to also work on fully accepting it, and implement any necessary measures. This is difficult, and may take time; again, try to be patient.
But I’m afraid that defining myself as a psychiatric patient will weaken me.
On the contrary, it will empower you. When you accept that you have a psychiatric illness, you go from being its victim to being an agent in staying healthy. Crucially, accepting your illness means accepting treatment for it. For instance, many psychiatric patients identify medication with doing badly (because they are prescribed medication when they are doing badly) and, mistaking correlation for causation, refuse to take their medication. This is counter-productive and, unless reversed, leads to poor outcomes. If you don’t fully take your illness in, you are also likely to want to hurry back to work, when it’s way more effective to devote time to heal and get back in the saddle once you’re fully ready.
And when you do get back on the saddle, how do you make sure not to fall again?
Here we go back to illness management. Every illness is different; mine consists of episodes followed by periods of relative stability, others are more constant in nature. What I say here applies quite widely, but you’ll also need to learn how to best manage your particular illness, of course.
First and foremost, having good medical support is crucial. I have found both psychiatric and psychological treatment to be beneficial. Through these treatments, and life experience, I have learned many techniques that I also apply on my own, like drawing when I’m too anxious to rest.
What is also very important is to monitor your emotional state. With time, you learn to spot early signs, and also triggers, and how best to react to them. For instance, one warning sign for me is thinking that people are mad at me. When I realize that, I first tell myself that this is my illness, then I try to rest extra, and depending on how that goes I contact my psychiatrist. People close to you can be very useful in identifying warning signs; my husband, for instance, spots them earlier than me.
It is also useful to implement preventive actions. For example, I was at a conference a few months ago, and some colleagues went for drinks after dinner. I’d have loved to go, but I went back to the hotel because conferences are exhausting for me, and exhaustion is a trigger for episodes.
And didn’t that frustrate you?
Of course! I was very sad. And despite all my talk about acceptance, I am still grieving the life I could have without my illness. But I know from experience that if I don’t actively manage my illness I get episodes, which is much worse, so I really have no alternative. And, thanks in large part to how I manage it, I get to have a happy life, with an awesome family and a job I love. So I’m sad and frustrated, but also proud and grateful.
My TL;DR, thus, is that you can live a happy life as a researcher with a psychiatric illness. And that’s huge. :)
[Disclaimer: This post expresses my opinion, based on years of experience, therapy, readings, and podcasts. Use at your own discretion. Written in August-September 2024, CC BY-NC.]