Today's discussion in class got very personal for some people, but others appreciated it, apparently.

So today was a ranting day, I guess, where our prof basically let us complain and bitch about things we didn't like about classes, the grad program, and the profession in general (in addition to asking questions).  Classes got into things such as the fact that we don't have much of a choice in substance classes, more methods would be nice (even though I personally think our methods training is awesome), and the like.  Once we hit topics concerning the program though, I decided that, to hell with it, I am going to say something about the way mental health issues are treated in not only this program and this field, but across academia in general and why it is hurtful and everything.

Basically, once I started I couldn't stop, and I just kind of word vomited and was shaking and getting I guess obviously upset.  I explained how, while knowing that grad school and pre-tenure professorship is by its nature very stressful, the dismissal and acceptance of mental health problems (as a sort of rite of passage, even) is incredibly discouraging.  That constantly hearing how we need to sacrifice any time we have into work is demoralizing.  That when we finish something, encouragement is rare, but instead we are reminded of how much we have to still do and how little time we have left to do it.  That when I try to explain the extent of how stressed I am, I hear laughter and "well, that's grad school," as though it is funny that I need to undertake this.

And given my existing mental health problems, grad school and this attitude has just augmented everything.

Having depression and anxiety issues should not be necessary for me to get a PhD in a field that I love.

I said this to everyone.  Finally, I just let my cohort know, in my anger about this issue, that those things affect me severely.  While I do think that most of them knew, because I kept hinting at it throughout the semester, this was the first time I said it out loud.  I also mentioned that constantly hearing how I should give up free time contributed to my not eating properly, because cooking and eating takes way too much time and effort.  (Though, being completely honest, breakup is what started the lack of eating trend and the dramatic weight loss overall, and grad school has just prevented it from getting much better.)

It was recognized that this is a problem, across all of academia, and that informal things can and should be done to change the attitudes towards mental health among graduate students.

Then, someone who is sitting in this class from Georgetown spoke up, mentioning also how difficult it is for women to advance in academia, and how there is no chance for the work-life balance.  She mentioned how she is a mother, and when she had to take time off, she was ostracized at Georgetown and basically treated as a leper.  And when one of the guys mentioned that maybe that shouldn't happen in grad school or something along those lines, I chimed in that that is easier for him to say because he is a man.  That he doesn't feel the same pressures as women to have and raise children at a certain time in their lives, and women are more demonized when they are not doing that and instead choosing a career.  Georgetown classmate agreed, and I could tell she was getting very upset about this, and she exasperatedly exclaimed that "for God's sake, you only have one woman in your cohort, and I can't imagine how difficult that must be for her."  And I appreciated that more than I think she realized, because yes, it is difficult for various reasons.

So...yeah.  Many personal things happened in class, which was frightening and stuff but felt good to talk about, I suppose.  People did come up to me and say that was brave of me to discuss it, and I saw more than a few people nodding when I was talking, so that at least felt good.

I know that my discussion will probably not do much to help myself.  Maybe a little.  More so if what I said is taken to heart, and some attitudes change.  But I am aware that my problems are not only due to the pressures of grad school.  I had them before and ignored them for most of my life until I could not anymore.  Until I got to the point after my breakup where the thought of crashing my car was so appealing to me that I always hesitated and had to convince myself not to do it when I had to go driving.  That I would tell myself "not today...maybe tomorrow," as a way to just keep postponing something that I wanted to do, but was too scared to carry out.  That was when I realized that I couldn't ignore my own issues anymore, and that I had been ignoring them even way before I met the ex.  Before college, even.  That my perfectionism led to me having unrealistic expectations about myself, and my desire to please everyone was so intense that I would feel guilty about doing something for me instead of appeasing someone else.  Even younger than high school, I found that I couldn't just tell a friend that I wanted to go home, if that is what I wanted to do at some point.  If they wanted me to stay, I had to call my parents and pretty much ask them to tell me to come home, so I could say "oh my parents want me home now" instead of "I would like to go home now."  I didn't want anyone to be mad with me about something like that.  Eventually, that delved into me just mostly doing whatever someone else wanted to do, either because I developed this mentality of having no preference, or because I knew that I would feel guilty if we chose my preference.  And I still find that I do this.  I did it throughout my relationship.  It is why I agreed to come home earlier from London.  It is why I agreed to not apply to schools abroad.  It is why I never minded if he wanted to play fighting games all day.  It is why when he was angry or sad, I would drop everything to try and help him, because I didn't want him to be either one of those things.  It is why I tolerated his fraternity as much as I could (which became less and less over time).

Now, with the ex, it was more intense than normal, because my desire to please was interacted with the intense love I had for him.  My strong feelings for him amplified my wanting to make others happy even at the expense of myself.

And since, you know, he was not doing anything for me or for our relationship, I would get burned out very quickly.  But in my head, I kept telling myself that I could handle it.  I could carry both of us, by myself.  I could help him.  And I wanted to.  And I wish he let me.

If I could do things again, I would try to take some more time for me, but I wouldn't have stopped trying.  (I know I go back and say that if I could do things again, I'd just stop things before they happened, but I am also aware that even with this knowledge, my past self who loved him so dearly would still not give up.)  I wouldn't have given up on him, but maybe I would have done more things for me, rather than for our relationship and for us.

Bah, I don't know.  I say that, but knowing me, I probably wouldn't.  I just don't like myself enough to allot time for taking care of my own needs.

...Saddest thing is that even know I acknowledge all these problems in our relationship, I still get remarkably sad over it and what happened to us.  It is just so different than what I had envisioned and hoped for.

Ugh why did I get on this.  I'm just in a really sad mood, I guess.  Time to go to bed.