#The social anxiety my grad program puts me through is EXHAUSTING

[hazzabeeforlou]

On the eve of HS2, I felt I needed to reflect and write a diary entry of sorts, an ode to where I was and where I am now, a musing on how HS1 ushered in a whole new world for me. This is long and more personal than anything I’ve previously shared, but in honor of vulnerability and maybe helping someone else who’s struggling... here it is. 

The most exposure 2015 me had to pop music was occasionally listening to ‘hits’ radio. My old art teacher in high school had blasted the classics of the 60s and 70s daily, so I knew those, albeit not the names, but the music, the style, the melodic tropes and such. 2015 me didn’t have much time for pop music. I was getting a fancy degree in classical music from one of the best conservatories in the world, and I’d made it there after four years with a highly abusive teacher in undergrad who gave me horrible anxiety; by the end, whenever she would walk into a room, I would get chills and start shaking. She delighted in lying to me, in calling me out in front of my peers. Worse, I was arguably her highest-achieving student. The day I got into Juilliard she took me for “tea” to celebrate, where she proceeded to spend the whole time telling me how she had made this happen, how her connections got me to NY, how I should be grateful. 

Entering the world of NYC and Juilliard I was an awestruck, anxious mess. Everything moved too fast, the school was overwhelming, my studio mates were famous already, some of them having won world-famous competitions and been on the cover of magazines. I was in the elite place, a place my working class roots had never prepared me for. My dad was a millwright. He went to work every day in steel-toed boots and overalls and often returned so filthy mom wouldn’t let him wash his clothes in the household washing machine. But I was nothing if not adaptable, and grateful, and charming, and I did my best. I worked hard. But my health kept deteriorating. 

All through undergrad I’d been feeling progressively worse. I had horrible acne that I presumed was caused by stress, as I’d never suffered with it in high school. I was already an introvert, but body insecurity led me to hardly ever socialize. I would spent hours getting ready for things, never willing to show my bare face. But that wasn’t the worst; I’d developed what I now understand was an eating disorder, because no matter how much I exercised or dieted, I kept gaining weight, or rather, I lost all my baby fat but remained the same scale number. I kept telling my mother I was fat. I didn’t tell her that I hated the wind, that I hated running, because it made my stomach protrude and the whole world could see the extra pounds I carried. I never made an appointment with an OBGYN because I didn’t date much less have sex, and my mother had told me, well you don’t ever need to be seen until you do. I came to NYC well versed in wearing baggy sweaters and scarfs that hid my form. And for two years, as my breathing got worse and worse, as my energy levels dropped, as my skin hurt and itched, I pushed forwards. I remember practicing one day and my eyes going black. I couldn’t see, I couldn’t breathe. 

It was getting into an international competition that saved me. I got the news in early May of 2016; I jumped around my room and I started coughing, and the next day a hernia appeared above my belly button. I was only slightly worried, but I went to see the Juilliard doctor. She asked if I’d gained weight, she said even a couple pounds could do it. I was, as always, ashamed, red faced, embarrassed as she prodded around on my torso. 

She said I’d need surgery. So I scheduled it in NYC for two days after my graduation. I played my recital, but with a binder around my abdomen. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t remember my memorized music. I nearly passed out. I stumbled on the sidewalk afterwards. 

When I woke from the surgery I was in blinding pain, teeth chattering uncontrollably, in shock. I couldn't open my eyes, and every breath felt like knives slicing into my chest. I heard the nurses say, “We’ve given you three IVs of Percocet, do you want us to give you a forth?” I said no, thinking, ‘what if I die from an overdose?’ After two hours my mother came in search of me. It was supposed to be a day surgery. She demanded morphine. They sent me home on it, but two days later I’d thrown up twice and was back in the ER. A CT showed I had an ovarian cyst. The doctor said to me, “It’s 28 inches. It’s the size of a dinner plate.” I didn’t understand. They rushed me back for another surgery, and asked me to sign a paper saying I wouldn’t hold them responsible if I ended up paralyzed. I signed it. I joked with the nurses before they put me under. I was shaking with pain. I thought, if this is the end, I’ve had a good life. I’ll be with my doggy, my baby puppy. I’ve graduated from my dream school. I’ve gotten into an elite international competition. I’ll go out at the top of my game. It’s okay. 

But then I woke up. Over the next year, I would wish countless times that I hadn’t. I could barely walk. I couldn’t lift things like a fork, or my computer. I couldn’t shower or cough or even shit. I couldn’t practice or sit upright for more than fifteen minutes. Pain became a constant. I started to wake up with night sweats, my forehead creased in subconscious pain. I would jump at every loud noise, my heart lurching like a ruined engine, and I couldn’t remember names of flowers. I fell into a massive depression over the next few months, made worse by the 2016 election; because of my infirmity I had moved back home with my Trump-voting parents. The bravest thing I did that fall was ‘come out’ as a liberal on Facebook. My parents pretended not to notice when I stayed up late that cold November night, huddled with a blanket on the couch, crying my eyes out.

The Christmas 2016 season is a blur. I know I half lived in memories, half in grief, but all in self-pitying misery. I remember reading a passing article about Jay, not knowing who it was, and I remember adding a lost mother to the list of things I cried about. How could the world be so cruel, so unfair? My days were filled with PT and sleep, immobility and exhaustion, and questions, questions like if I can’t do what I love, what I’ve spent years training for, what’s the point? What does it mean to be an artist when you can’t do your art? What is left of me that matters? Is the future only more pain? It would have been better to have died. It would have been better to have died. 

Up until this point I had been unlucky in love. I could never find men attractive, though many friends pressured me to try, which of course had led to not good things. I’d been confronted a couple times about maybe being gay, but I’d shot this down immediately, my face bright red, my heart pounding. No, that’s not it, I’m just picky. Two girls in grad school had flirted with me; I’d accidentally gone on a date with one. I’d felt deeply, gut-wrenchingly uncomfortable about her. But how could I ever unpack all of that when just coming out as a liberal had given me anxiety for days...  

The new year came and I had nothing to look forward to. I could see no happy future. I wasn’t really in my right mind. I would escape as best I could, perhaps in masochistic ways; I’d watch SNL for humorous liberal comfort, and Colbert to feel some spark of angry solidarity. And that’s how I stumbled on Harry. He got me with his puns, because I love those. For the first time in months, I was giggling about something, this charming boy with curls and dimples who had replaced the scream-speech of James Cordon. For once I didn’t turn the tv off after Colbert. 

I began listening to Harry’s songs. As I had no reference for contemporary pop music, his old school rock album was familiar to me in a comforting way. I knew these sounds, these tropes, and yet they didn’t feel stale to me, they spoke to something I was feeling in the present. Because the album, in essence, was about pain, wasn’t it? Pain and escaping it. The lies we tell to survive, the dreams we cling to for hope, the drugs we use to forget. I’d never bought a pop album before, Harry was my first, and I listened to it for hours every day. 

HS1 seeped into my blood, but I’d been on a hopeless, aimless track for so long that the railway tie hadn’t yet switched. One warm, sunny spring day I wrote a note, filled a bag with rocks, and walked to the old bike trail, out past the freeway, into the marshes and pools of abandoned swampy wasteland. FTDT played in my head on a loop as I walked, as my brain hummed with the equation of worth. Was it worth it to stay alive?

Yes. I threw the rocks. I threw them as far as my fragile arms would allow, and they splashed into the murky water. And I turned around and called my mom to come get me. Harry had made something that was beautiful, that was touching, that was real. And if he could... then maybe I could too. Maybe I didn’t have to be just what I’d been before. Maybe I could try creating other things; maybe I could make art that, like Harry’s music, made other people feel less alone. 

There was something magical about that album. Not freedom, per se, but the promise of it, a glimpse of truth that kept me hanging on. 

I began writing poems again, songs. I got into an orchestra program, I healed month by month, I started carrying crystals, I found this crazy fandom and, little by little, grew to understand that my yearning upon looking at baby larry videos was really a cry of sameness that I had never before understood. After the Pulse shooting, during my horrible homebound year, I’d watched Lin-Manuel Miranda give his love is love is love speech, and I’d burst into tears. And I’d not known why. Now I began to realize. I remember the first tentative anon I sent to Phoenix @alienfuckeronmain asking if maybe I was... bi? I remember anxiously awaiting her answer, as if I needed an invitation to join the community, to be valid, to have this not just be a crazy swelling of hope in my chest. She replied while I was wandering through a corn maze in the frigidness of October. The next day I walked into rehearsal and I felt free, free of the way boys looked at me, free of being FOR them, and I’d never felt so... alive. Coincidentally I met my ex girlfriend that day too. 

Through Harry I found this fandom, and Louis. Louis, who has spoken to me on levels I cannot even express, whose class and political and emotional intelligence have challenged me to stand up for things I never thought I could. For me these last few years have felt like a journey WITH Harry. As he started waving them, I started wearing rainbows, just subtly. A knit scarf, a postcard, a bag. I started writing fic, the most healing thing I’ve ever done. I learned to create art away from the singular thing I’d been trained to dump my all into, and I learned that I have so much more to offer, even if chronic pain will follow me in some way or another for the rest of my life. 

I’m so thankful to Harry for taking me on this adventure with him; I don’t know if I’d have ever taken that first step by myself. It was like he held my hand through it all, like this fandom held my hand through it all. Like by being himself, Harry helped me be brave enough to evolve too. 

Through the catalyst of Harry’s art I’ve experienced more happiness than I’d have ever imagined. I cannot wait to go on this next journey, a second album, and reflect on just how far we’ve both come. 

#mine #personal #tw suicide #tw disordered eating

[beardyallen]

Here we go... (Part 2 of 3)

Alright, so let's talk about April.

[Warning: This is mostly just about my mental health. It’s not super interesting. You won’t learn anything about Beijing. Many of you will probably read this and imagine me sitting here whining. I prefer to call it venting. Feel free to skip this and go directly to Here we go... (Part 3 of 3). It’s where most of the fun stuff is. But...there’s a pretty dope comic about halfway down, so if you also suffer from depression, you should check it out. It’s a good comic. And it makes me smile when everything is gray.]

I generally only talk about my depression with a few people, but I think we could all benefit by having more open discussions about how it affects us. Too many people struggle with this illness, it's stigmatized, and future generations need to know that what they experience is more common than they think. Plus, I imagine that making this beast something that we can talk about will reduce its power and prevalence.

I'm not going to try to talk about the root cause of my issues as I'm not entirely sure where to even start, so I'll just share how it all manifests. And how that's changed over the years. If my mental illness is in fact something that I've been struggling with my entire life, I imagine that it manifested as anger when I was child, usually in response to anxiety around my social situation, exacerbated by end-of-the-semester stress. Why do I think this? Because it seems that I only really got in trouble for acting out in early December or late April/early May. And I was usually retaliating towards a feeling of isolation, invisibility, or worthlessness. It's a pretty strong pattern.

I'm not gonna share any sob stories about how I didn't fit in as a kid, or how moving into a tight-knit community in fifth grade led to a strong feeling of isolation that persisted through middle school and high school. I'm not going to talk about the bullying or harassment. These are things that happened, but they aren't the point. And I'm just as much, if not more, to blame for my circumstances as anyone else.

The anxiety is the point. The feeling that I've had at every stage of my life that I don't matter to the people around me if I'm not always around. That they don't think about me. That if I vanished from their life, they wouldn't notice. That I was replaceable. Or that I was a burden that they would rather shirk off. As far as I can tell, I've felt this way since kindergarten, and all of the anger I felt as a child was in response to stimuli that reinforced this notion.

And in April, the intrusive, invasive thoughts started up again. Yes, of course there were people who wanted to know what was going on with me. There were people who frequently checked in with me to see how I was doing in China. I had every reason to believe that I matter, that my presence was missed, and that I'm still important to people. And in spite of that, it's not how I felt. It even led me to start questioning whether or not my best friend cared about me, which is absurd because of course he does. Life happens. But the voice in my head is a prick.

On top of that, every source of stress in my life spiked. Complications with my teaching assignment manifested, including (but not limited to) issues with my paychecks. Financial reimbursements for my health insurance policy have not been disbursed despite repeated messages to those responsible. Since I'm currently not enrolled in any course credit, my student status was revoked and now those entities which own my student loan debt are looking for payments. My dissertation research stagnated as my collaborator has other super important grad school obligations to deal with, and my Masters Project has been put on hold again for reasons outside my control. It also seems to just get bigger every time I try to make progress. There's also a nagging voice in the back of my head constantly whining about how much more complex my project seems to be in comparison to other Masters projects I've seen from the department. But when the voice pops up, I do what I can to pummel it into submission. I can't live my life in comparison to others.

Beyond that, I randomly wound up with a case of insomnia. For three nights in a row, I laid in bed for hours staring at the inside of my eyelids, watching imaginary scenarios play out as my consciousness jumped from random topic to random topic. In spite of how exhausted I was, I just couldn't get my brain to turn off for more than 30 minutes at a time; during the one or two brief naps, I was privy to some of the most vivid dreams and nightmares that I've had, and my baseline dream/nightmare is already more vivid than most.

So work sucked, minor frustrations related to living in Beijing, no sleep, missing my friends, trying to not freak out about the fact that I'll be effectively homeless all summer (insomuch as I won't have an apartment that I'm officially renting or anything), worrying about the fact that I'm not making as much money as I projected, and just being sick and tired of being sick and tired. April was super fun, guys. Can't you tell?

Mental illness blows. Depression blows. Intrusive thoughts blow.

So I spent an absurd amount of time doing very little. Laying in bed. Reading comic books and rewatching Community. Not writing. Not researching. Being pathetic.

Wondering if I should reconsider my stance on medication. So let's talk about that.

From a philosophical standpoint, I don't much care for the idea of needing a medication to get myself on track. My mental illness is a part of who I am just as much as my intellect and sense of humor are a part of who I am. I'm no genius, but let's consider those individuals who have been described as such and think about just how many of them are suspected to have been depressed or grappling with some sort of mental illness. I'm not going down in history as anyone whose mind is something to admire, but I know that I'm smarter than your average bear. I'm a PhD student studing theoretical mathematics, probability and statistics. I'm simulataneously working on a dissertation related to subgraph density problems and a masters project centered around reconstructing familial networks in forensic databases. These topics are not related, nor has the coursework had very much overlap. Balancing two different graduate degrees is not common among people in my department, but I know that I can handle it.

So if I seek out medication as a means to balance my life, what sort of unforeseen impact will that have on my studies? It is not uncommon for the process of finding "the right medication" to take months, and as your life changes, so too does "the right medication." I have one year left in my program (maybe two if I'm unlucky, and that seems to be how my life goes), my diet is fucked, my sleep schedule has been jacked up for the last few months, and I haven't had regular physical activity excepting the 2 mile walks to and back from Wudaokou several times a week. My work life is tumultuous at the best of times, and all of this is changing in the not-so-distant future. I have been in academia my entire life, living on the same stress-rhythm for the past 24 years. What happens when I'm suddenly a research or data scientist?

Medication is off the table for the time being. I had bi-weekly counseling last semester which seemed to help with my stress levels, but at some point I would like some sort of diagnosis. But before I can seek therapy, I need to be back in the States, with some sort of stable life. That means August of September at the earliest. Probably September. In the meantime, I bounce between feeling like I've got everything figured out and feeling like I'm holding my sanity together with scotch tape. All the while, I question all of the things I thought I knew about how I wanted my life to look as I see more clearly every day just how messed up the world is. Ignorance definitely wasn't bliss, but knowing doesn't feel much better.

------------------------------------

Damn. That was pretty bleak. But I needed to get it out of my head.

Enjoy this dope little comic that I think about every Sunday to help me get through the week.

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Now back to it. I'm open to therapy, I know that it will help. It's part of my long-term plan for mental stability. And I'm open to talking about medication with my future therapist, once the "big issues" in my life that I can control are worked out.

In the meantime, I'm okay. Or at least that's what I'll say whenever someone asks.

Of course I'm not okay. For some reason that I haven't yet worked out, my brain focuses on the negatives waaaaay too much. I do my best to combat it, but generally I've just managed to make this work to my advantage throughout my life, planning for worst-case scenarios, being comfortable with failing when I try to solve a problem, being the skeptic in my research groups. It's made me a better mathematician. It's made me push myself further towards excellence. But it's also inherently held me back.

Before I really had a grasp on my mental illness, I would have periods of numbness. I would get absorbed by these intrusive thoughts and mistake them for my authentic voice. I would see everything around me as gray and conclude that my friendships weren't as wonderful and remarkable as they are, that my relationship is doomed to fail because I don't feel a spark or magnetism anymore, that I'm not actually supposed to be a graduate student and that I'm not good enough and that I've only made it this far as a fluke and eventually everyone will figure out that I'm a fraud. And I've made mistakes because of it. I've let friendships die, relationships fail, and...alright, so I've pretty much been kicking ass at the grad school thing, but I guess my response to feeling like a fraud is usually to push myself super hard until I start burning out. This actually happened last school year when I was preparing for my comprehensive exam, which led to my oral exam, which led right into the end of the semester, with several conferences that I was running and attending, and then a research workshop and then...my seizures came back. Maybe "seizure" isn't quite correct, but I'm not sure what else to call it when my body has a stress-induced reaction that feels like someone swinging an icepick in the back of my skull.

So I'm not okay. But for the time being, that's just going to have to be okay. [Queue i'm ok. by Judah and the Lion]

I could use a nap.

[social-anxiety-community-blog]

INTERVIEW WITH J.

First Name: J.

Age: 25

From: Raleigh, NC

I hope you all enjoy this interview segment. I will be posting interviews each week from fellow blog followers. I believe it’s important to share our stories to help us feel less alone. My goal is that in reading these stories you will think “hey, me too!” and know that there really are people out there who are also struggling with social anxiety, we are not alone in this. If you would like to be part of these interviews please send me a private message to let me know and I will then message you the questions and how to send back your answers. Thank you J and to all those who have reached out wanting to be part of this. 

At what age did you start to notice social anxiety symptoms? This is hard for me to answer because I feel like I’ve had the symptoms as long as I can remember. For example, I remember being in school and every time I got called on, my face would turn bright red. Then my classmates would point it out and surprise, that made me even more embarrassed. I was always super shy and just thought it was part of my personality. But as I got older, my friend group got smaller and smaller, and it was harder for me to make new friends. My senior year of high school was when I knew there was something more than just shyness and that’s when I was diagnosed with depression as well. I had a couple friends but I mostly isolated myself and I would purposely not do all of my homework so I could go to the library instead of going to eat lunch with everyone else. It started becoming exhausting being around other people so it was easier for me to just cut myself off from everyone.

Do you know which specific situation(s) trigger your anxiety the most? Basically every social situation causes me to have anxiety, and I never feel completely at ease unless I’m with my parents, brother, sister, or boyfriend. But what causes me the most anxiety is any interaction with an authority figure like bosses, managers, teachers, cops, etc. Job interviews are the worst for me and also give me a lot of anxiety.

Have you been formally diagnosed with social anxiety by  a health professional? I haven’t, actually. I was diagnosed with depression and generalized anxiety disorder when I was 17 or 18. I have a degree in psychology and so when I started taking a lot of psych classes, I started learning about all of the different disorders. I read about generalized anxiety disorder and thought that it kind of sounded like me, but not really. Then I read about social anxiety disorder (I had never heard of it before) and it described me 100%. It was as if someone got inside my head and wrote down everything that I’ve experienced. I know without a doubt that I have social anxiety disorder.

Are you currently in treatment for social anxiety? If so, tell us more about the treatment process you are currently doing. I’m not currently in treatment but I plan on starting one soon. There is an online program that I’ve tried to do before but I have a hard time making myself do it every day, but I think it could be helpful if I kept up with it every day. It’s from the Social Anxiety Institute. Starting when I was 18, I was put on about 10 different antidepressants and I want to take this opportunity to warn you guys about them. I know that they’ve helped a lot of people but they can cause a lot of harm too. And I learned in my psych classes that antidepressants don’t even help with social anxiety anyway. I was put on Cymbalta and it was horrible, it took me years to get off of because the withdrawals were so bad. I’ve been off of them for almost two years now and I still don’t feel normal at all. I honestly feel like I lost years of my life to this drug. Again I’m not saying that all antidepressants are bad because 8 out of the 10 that I tried didn’t affect me badly (but none of them helped with the depression and anxiety), but if you do want to try them, please please do your research before and look up all of the side effects and withdrawal effects. My doctor didn’t tell me anything and didn’t warn me of any side effects.

If you are not currently in treatment, what is preventing you from seeking help? I’ve tried different therapists in the past and I always get too anxious during the sessions to feel comfortable and I’ve had a hard time finding the right therapist. Right now my insurance is bad and it doesn’t cover me going to see a therapist anyway.

Does anyone in your family or friends know you experience social anxiety symptoms? Just my parents, brother, sister, and my boyfriend. I told my best friend (at the time) maybe 3 years ago and she stopped talking to me so I don’t like to tell people anymore.

Do you know anyone else who has social anxiety? No, I don’t. I’m trying to join a social anxiety group where I live so we’ll see how that goes. I would like to meet other people with social anxiety because I feel like we could help each other. And I feel like I would be more comfortable because I wouldn’t feel like I need to hide the fact that I have social anxiety.

What is the one thing social anxiety is keeping you from doing? Just living my life in general. In high school, I kept mostly to myself except for a few friends. In college I didn’t make any meaningful friendships, join any clubs, or just do anything except homework and study because I was too anxious. Now I don’t have any friends and I’m still working at a grocery store because I’m too anxious to try anything else. I start panicking when I look for jobs online and can’t even get through a few pages before I start freaking out and crying because I feel like I’m too anxious to start something new. So it’s keeping me from living my life, basically. One thing specifically though, is that it’s keeping me from going to grad school. Before I thought that I wanted to become a therapist or something along those lines because I thought that since I’ve been dealing with depression and anxiety, I could help others. But now I don’t even know if I could make it through grad school, and how am I going to help others with their depression and anxiety when I can barely manage my own?

If you did not have social anxiety, what would you want to do that you can’t right now because of it? Again, everything. I would have friends, I would have done better in college and I would probably have a much better job because of it. I would most likely be in grad school right now. I know this is a negative way of thinking but I can’t help but feel so defeated.

What is your favorite food? Anything sweet! I have a major sweet tooth and love candy, chocolate, etc.

What is your favorite band or song at the moment? Oh this is hard. I don’t really have a favorite band or song because there are a lot of genres that I listen to (classic rock, hip hop, pop, music in Spanish, etc) and I like each genre for different reasons so it’s really hard for me to pick just one. But someone I’ve been listening to a lot lately is Shakira because I’m going to her concert in February and I’m super excited! Some of my favorites of hers right now are La Bicicleta, Me Enamore, and Estoy Aqui.

What are you passionate about? I know this might sound weird but I don’t really feel passionate about anything except music, I guess. I don’t know if this is due to depression but I feel like ever since I started dealing with depression, I don’t really enjoy things as much. Like I have things that I like doing, but I’m not super passionate about them if that makes sense. I feel like if someone is super passionate about something, they take time to do it every day or at least often. The only thing I do this with is music, I have to listen to it every day. But a few things that I like to do are playing guitar, photography, playing video games, things like that. But lately I don’t have the energy to do some of these things.

Share a favorite memory of a time before you had social anxiety. I feel like I’ve had it most of my life so I’m just going to share a favorite memory that I have despite my social anxiety. One of my favorite memories is the day that I graduated from college. I know it might not seem like a big deal and everyone is graduating from college but for me it was. I was dealing with so much mentally and it was hard for me to go to class every day because of how anxious I was. But I made it through anyway and I was proud of myself.

How did you learn about the Social Anxiety Community blog on Tumblr? I searched for blogs about social anxiety.

#social anxiety #social anxiety disorder #anxiety #socially anxious #interview

[boldadulting]

This Week in Grad School (Jan 7, 2016)

Grad school is rough, so This Week In Grad School is here to take your questions! This week, we have questions about imposter syndrome [see note 1], loneliness, and how to get into a PhD program in the first place!

These questions were first shared on social media, so you'll be getting my advice plus advice from lots of other people who have been there!

A) Am I ready for grad school?

It’s incredibly common for students to feel unprepared for grad school—that’s what imposter syndrome is all about. As the above commenters noted (thanks for participating, guys!), people come in with all kinds of different preparation. What you did before grad school is way less important than what you do once you’re in it!

Take a moment to think—why did the program that accepted you take you? Ok so you had a low undergrad GPA and not much research experience. They’re pretty picky in their decision-making (that’s what that long and arduous process of grad school interviews is all about). Pull out a piece of paper and note down your strong suits: what are you bringing to the table? Why did they pick you?

Possible examples include:

personality traits

communication style

volunteer experience

passion

mentors who spoke strongly of you in your letters of recommendation

It may not be easy to make such a list, but don’t take that as a bad sign. If thinking confidently came naturally to you, you wouldn’t be struggling with this right now in the first place! For the next few weeks, try to note down any possible reasons you can think of about why they would have accepted you and why you’ll do well. (Hint: it can help to ask friends and family members to round out the list!)

Then, once you have it, work on believing it. When your concerns come up, remind yourself about this list.

Also, you might think about how you can best prepare yourself for grad school. A little preparation can really help calm your nerves. (Note: Don’t use overpreparation as a way to escape your anxieties. Everything in moderation, and you should work on your anxiety/confidence too.)

No, you don’t have to read 100 papers before you get started (how would you even know which ones to read?). But you can:

read some books about grad school (how about Surviving Your Stupid Stupid Decision To Go To Grad School?)

start looking at the professors who you could work with and get in touch with a few

email a few current grad students and ask them to get coffee or to skype (they can give you advice + you’ll already have some new friends)

think about your organizational/time management skills and start improving ones that could use some work

research your new city and anything you need to do to move

ask your undergraduate mentors about how to prepare

watch some YouTube videos or listen to some podcasts about the current trends in your field

Don’t forget about the self-care you can do in preparation for grad school:

get in an exercise/meditation/relaxation routine

spend lots of time with friends and family who you’ll have less time for once you start

start seeing a therapist to address the anxiety you’re already having

open up to your friends (including ones in your new program) about your concern

Please comment below: what would you advise for someone who feels unprepared for grad school even after getting in? (Please focus both on how to prepare and how to reassure oneself.)

B) Grad school makes me lonely

Grad school can be a deeply isolating experience. In fact, it’s one of the reasons for low confidence mentioned in my podcast episode 9 Reasons Grad Students Are Convinced They Suck.

Many programs actively take steps (at least in the beginning) to forge a bond among their grad students; unluckier students don’t have this luxury. But no matter how close you are to your new grad school buddies in the beginning, as everyone gets more invested in their project, you’re going to find less and less time for each other. You need to take steps to prevent the loneliness and to pull yourself out of it when you’re in deep.

When you’re just starting out in your program, try to attend the various social events that are available. There are lots of reasons not to:

you’d way rather stay in and watch Netflix

you already don’t get much time to spend with your significant other

you’re exhausted after your classes and lab

But for the vast majority of people (even introverts), you’re going to need social support throughout grad school, and you’ve gotta start cultivating those bonds now.

A few responses to the reasons above:

you can invite people over to watch Netflix with you (socializing doesn’t all have to be about standing around with drinks in your hands talking!)

bring your significant other! (mine actually found some great friends of his own in my cohort)

all those other people are exhausted too and think about the wonderful bonds you’ll form by complaining about it

It’s also important to cultivate relationships outside of grad school. Stay in touch with friends and family back home! Use MeetUp.com, dating apps, and networking apps (did you know there’s a “tinder for networking?”) to find people you can talk to about stuff other than the tiny bubble of grad school. They’ll help put your problems in perspective and probably be endlessly impressed that you’re in grad school, which can be a big self-esteem boost [but see note 2].

If you’re a ways into grad school and you find yourself isolated, admit you’re lonely. People can be ashamed to admit this but if you’re looking for community, being vulnerable can be a great first step! I was incredibly lonely when I first moved back to San Diego after undergrad. If I had reached out to people, I bet I could have found a lot more community a lot sooner. Much of the advice that people weighed in with is about finding people to work with and YES YES YES please do that! They said it so well that I have nothing to add, except to say that I’m not sure I would have gotten through the most difficult parts of my education without having a close friend I did a lot of working in parallel with.

C) How do I get into grad school?

The specific requirements differ for each PhD program so you have to check each program you’re interested in and then follow their requirements to the letter. But here is what many programs will look at:

GPA (via transcripts)

General Record Exam (GRE) scores – this is like the SAT but for grad school

letters of recommendation (3 minimum)

essays (about you, about your prior research, about your interests in grad school, or some combination)

prior research experience (having publications is a huge bonus but is generally not a requirement)

how you do during interviews

Some programs will require GRE subject tests (e.g. GRE Biology, GRE Psychology, etc.), but check if the ones you hope to go to do before taking these expensive and time-consuming tests.  

As mentioned in the first advice question in this post, GPA isn’t a determining factor, so don’t assume you won’t be able to get into grad school just because your GPA isn’t great.

Letters of recommendation are hugely important so if you’re an undergrad, make sure you start cultivating relationships with your professors early.

BoldAdulting will have a full blog post about the nitty gritty of applying to grad school and a post about how to prepare for interviews, but this list gives you a quick overview of what to be thinking about. If you have more specific questions about the grad school application process, please send them my way!

And please keep in mind that applying for grad school is a difficult process and can be extremely trying on emotions and confidence. So remember:

be gentle on yourself

accept that you may not get in everywhere you hoped

have a back-up plan (for if you don't get into a program that has a good fit and/or you decide grad school isn't a good decision for you)

start as early as you can

practice lots of self-care

And if you are in the “lucky” [see note 3] group who got into a graduate program or two, make sure to think carefully about which program you’ll choose (if any) and how to approach your entry into grad school for maximum career advancement and personal happiness.

Notes

1. Imposter syndrome is the experience of feeling unprepared for the job you have or for the one you're trying to get. It is RAMPANT in academia (and in many other places). Notes 2. While others being impressed with what you’re doing can boost self-esteem, it can also be an imposter syndrome trigger. You feel like others wouldn’t be impressed if they realized how much you actually suck on the inside (or that your project doesn’t actually matter, or that you didn’t do well in your first year classes, etc.). If you’re experiencing this to an extent that’s interfering with your life, talk to a therapist, talk to a friend, or talk to me. 3. "Lucky" seemed like the natural word here but I'm very hesitant to use that word because we tend to dismiss may too many of our accomplishments as luck.

#mental health #confidence #advice #grad school #advice column #research #loneliness #PhD