25 Mar The Glorification of Mental Un-Health in Academia

Young professionals should stop joking about the mental and emotional stress that comes from working in academia.

Scrolling through social media, I see yet another self-deprecating meme posted by a young colleague in graduate school.

The meme is a cartoonish sketch of a frazzled, half-bald, wide-eyed graduate student, intensely staring at the reader from behind a stack of thick, oversized books, his hand gripped tightly on a steaming cup of coffee. The caption reads: “I’ve already had four mental breakdowns this semester. How about you?”

The post was intended to be a humorous comment on the unrealistic workloads placed on graduate students and young professionals in higher education. And the responses to the post were of similar nonchalance and sarcasm: “LOL!” “Me too!” “Really? Only four?”

My colleagues were just trying to make a joke about the amount of stress they had been under all semester.

But posts and comments like this point toward a more alarming trend among academic professionals today. Instead of criticizing labor expectations in the university environment, young academics half-jokingly write off poor mental health as a trade-off for working in higher education. They propagate chronic stress, unrealistically high workloads, and lack of attention to self-care and personal health as a necessary part of the job. The message they send is that you’re not doing it right unless you feel like you’re constantly on the verge of a mental breakdown.

The Performance of Mental Un-Health

Anyone who has pursued a graduate degree or a career in higher education will tell you that stress, busyness, long hours, and strained personal relationships are part of the job. It’s the downside to a job that allows you to work remotely a lot of the time and boasts flexible hours, attractive health and retirement benefits, paid time off, and generous summer and holiday breaks.

But lately I’ve noticed more and more young academics bragging, rather than criticizing, about their strained mental and emotional states. They joke about the extreme amount of stress they’re under and laugh about being pushed to the brink of mental meltdown on a regular basis. And they broadcast mental and emotional instability as a sort of accomplishment, like the passing of a hazing ritual to become a part of higher academic society.

The authors behind these posts aren’t actually suffering from mental illness. Yes, they’re stressed, overworked, and overwhelmed. And they’re certainly experiencing unhealthy mental and emotional states. But they’re self-aware enough to realize that this lifestyle isn’t healthy, and they haven’t reached a state where they can no longer cope with the day-to-day demands of their profession and need medical intervention.

Downplaying high workloads, chronic stress, and poor self-care, these authors instead pridefully broadcast mental and emotional instability as a bragging right for “making it” in academia. The underlying tone of their posts is often boastful and performative: I’m so dedicated to my position in academia that I’m sacrificing my own well-being to succeed, and my poor mental state proves that I have put in the work and earned this success.

You might call it “performative mental un-health” or “mental instability glamour.” It’s the public glorification of isolation, lack of sleep, mood disorders, and poor mental health as a status symbol — in this case, as a status symbol of achieving success in academia.

The Burden of Guilt

Not long after I saw this meme, another grad student posted a status update that read: “I’m not going to feel guilty for taking a break to wash my dishes. This is just as important as reading another article.”

Academics have a unhealthy relationship with work. They spend a disproportionate amount of time isolated in the world of academia. They’re the type of people who use their weekends and holiday breaks to catch up on work — not personal errands or self-care, but academic, job-related work. Over-burdened with job-related commitments and responsibilities, they feel guilty when they aren’t working. And when they do take time to tend to themselves or their personal lives (such as doing menial little errands like washing dishes), they feel like they should apologize for “taking a break.”

And who can blame them? Landing a stable, long-term academic position is a highly competitive endeavor. Universities are pumping out more PhDs than there are academic positions available. Stable academic positions are getting more difficult to find as long-term tenure-track positions are being eliminated in favor of adjunct, part-time, and temporary roles. And the outdated PhD model, which typically lacks real-world industry training, resources, and support for seeking alternative (non-academic) career options, ensures that competition for the limited number of academic positions is fierce.

So once they secure a job with the promise of growth and stability, young academic professionals graciously submit to high expectations and heavy workloads in exchange for being one of the lucky few to land an academic position. In addition to the demands of teaching and advising students, they are expected to contribute to their department in a multitude of ways — serving on committees, attending professional conferences and meetings, acting as an ambassador for the department, and assisting in development and recruitment for programs. Additionally, they are expected to continue producing original research, which means even more work to develop proposals, solicit funding, conduct research, and publish peer-reviewed works.

Many of the perks of working in higher education (being able to work remotely, flexible hours, paid time off, extended holiday breaks), then, are a facade. The truth is academics don’t ever really “take time off” or “leave the office.” They carry their work with them wherever they go, their mind always racing about the things they need to accomplish. And even when they aren’t working, they’re still burdened with a guilt that keeps them locked away (mentally at least) in the ivory tower.

Lifestyle of the Academic Professional

The truth about higher education is that it is all high stakes with low rewards. In other words, it’s a field with high competition, risk, and investment, but the (financial, at least) returns do not compensate for the amount of time, work, and energy required to work in that field.

Typically the first job you get in academia is a part-time adjunct faculty position. The extremely modest compensation of an adjunct role means you need to take on multiple positions and teach multiple classes to make ends meet. And adjuncts are usually contracted on a semester-by-semester basis with no guarantee of future employment, which means you’ll be spending a lot of your free time searching for your next gig — filling out lengthy job applications, securing letters of recommendation, and building a teaching portfolio.

Even though the classes themselves only meet three hours per week, you can expect to be working 40 to 60 hours weekly devising your syllabi, planning lectures, compiling course materials, grading papers, managing administrative tasks, and meeting with students. Hopefully you’re one of the lucky people on track toward a long-term teaching position. But even then, the best case scenario if you do achieve a long-term appointment is that your workload won’t increase. If anything, you’ll probably end up having to work more, as you’ll be expected to produce original research and contribute to your department and the status of your program in additional ways.

In exchange for all your hard work and effort, you can expect to receive a salary of about $75,000 per year (1). At that level of compensation, it’ll take at least three years before you recoup the investment you made toward tuition and expenses while in graduate school. Not to mention all the effort and exploitation (i.e. working for free or for embarrassingly low pay) you underwent the last 6 to 8 years as a graduate student while earning your PhD.

To end up in a position that only pays a modest $75,000 per year?

Sure, you might feel all warm and fuzzy inside because you’re serving the next generation of leaders. You’re helping to shape the workforce of the future. You’re impacting lives, changing mindsets, inspiring young adults to become better versions of themselves.

But what about your quality of life? How much time and energy are you devoting to this career path? How many personal sacrifices are you making for your work? What impact is it having on your relationships? On your physical, emotional, and mental health?

(1): I realize average salary depends on a number of factors, such as size and type of institution, department, and subject area. And, yes, some universities, especially prestigious private institutions, compensate their faculty in the six-figure range or higher. If you land one of those positions, then congratulations. Your hard work has paid off. But more than likely, if you achieve a professor-type role, you can expect on average $75,000 per year.

Perpetuating an Unhealthy Environment

In terms of mental and emotional stress, higher education is not the most supportive environment. Although many campuses offer onsite resources such as counseling, public and personal stigma regarding mental health issues prevents many academic professionals from accessing appropriate support and treatment. Many faculty and staff members remain silent about their struggles out of fear of discrimination, loss of credibility, or losing their job.

Additionally, higher education propagates an unhealthy environment in terms of mental and emotional stress with the high expectations and unrealistic workloads it places on faculty and staff. Chronic stress, overwork, and lack of personal care can and does lead to actual serious social, emotional, and mental issues. Studies show that more than 40% of academic staff exhibit symptoms of at least a mild mental disorder, or nearly twice the prevalence of mental disorders in the general population.

Glorifying mental instability (in social media posts and/ or anecdotal conversations) as a badge of honor for achieving success in academia only exacerbates these problems. For one, the often sarcastic and humorous nature of these posts exploit a particular privilege of not actually having to suffer the consequences of serious mental illness that many people live with every day. And making light of mental challenges breeds more stigma and makes it more difficult for those who suffer to seek help.

Secondly, writing off mental and emotional stress through jokes and sarcasm doesn’t hold academic departments accountable for the burden of unrealistic workloads and expectations that have been placed on faculty and staff — especially when signs of mental instability are used as a bragging right to justify one’s position or progress. Instead, it places accountability on academic professionals to manage the stresses of such an unhealthy environment. And while it draws attention to the mental and emotional challenges that many academics face, it also implies that faculty and staff who can’t uphold productivity and progress through these challenges just aren’t cut out to work in academia. It shifts blame onto the victims, rather than the institution.

Young academic professionals should stop making light of these issues and glamourizing mental un-health as a sign of achievement in academia. They should be furious about the way higher education institutions exploit their graduate students and staff through adjunct positions with high workloads and limited benefits and job security. They should be more cognizant of the costs in terms of time, energy, and personal sacrifice they are expending toward a career path with such modest financial returns. And they should devote more time to assessing their quality of life and ensuring the health of their own mental and emotional states while pursuing a career in academia.