By Dr Emma Waters, Researcher Development Specialist for PGRs
There has been a lot of recent discussion of how a doctorate may lead to periods of stress, and high instances of poor metal health within the research literature. Within new and emerging national policy related to the PGR experience, and across the developer community we see responses to this, designed to change the shape of the doctorate to provide a less uncertain and stressful experience. In contrast, there is very little research or practical guidance for supervisors and researcher development professionals, on how to support PGRs through traumatic experiences that are not a result of their PhD.
While we work in busy academic lives our personal lives also carry on. Unexpected events can change our worlds at any point, and it is encouraging to see new ground-breaking scholarship by Dr Katrina McChesney, arguing for the application of trauma-informed practices within the doctorate.
This blog post comes from reflecting on my own personal experience of a traumatic bereavement during my PhD, what I learned and how the actions of those in my research life helped me to navigate this period.
My bereavement
I was in the 2nd year of my PhD when my best friend died suddenly and unexpectedly. This was an incredibly close friend. We spoke daily and were very much entwined in each other’s lives.
At the time, I was fortunately at home visiting family and was therefore surrounded by my support network. I was in no fit state to return to work. I informed my supervisor of what had happened and that I would need time off. My supervisor agreed and I took a week off to process what had happened.
After a week I decided to return to my university. This was hard. If I’m honest I didn’t want to go back. I was leaving my support network behind and would be on my own in the evenings. I worried about my mental wellbeing, if others would understand and how to find joy and motivation for my research.
Navigating the return to research
I sat on a train travelling back to the university trying to figure out how to manage going into the office and carrying on ‘as normal’. The idea of having the same conversation over and over and the awkward silences when I explained why I was away was overwhelming. I decided that I didn’t want to do this, so I sent an email to our research group. I explained why I had been away, that I was coming back and how I wanted people to deal with the situation.
While this was scary, in reflection this was one of the best things I did in that time. I no longer had to worry about telling people and it gave my colleagues time to process my wishes before I was back in the office.
Much of my return to my PhD is still a blur of grief brain fog, but it was slow. I can remember coming in and staring at my screen for hours. My to do list felt meaningless, I couldn’t focus on reading or writing, and I seriously considered a suspension to my studies. This ended up not the right move for me as I feared I would end up isolating myself without having somewhere to go each day, however if it’s the right thing for you as a PGR or a PGR you are supporting then this doesn’t have to be something to fear.
In the end what worked best was tackling sample preparation tasks which required physically working in the lab. At times this became almost therapeutic with a rhythm I new well and can could easily fall into
How others helped me
Supervisor: One day in my screen-staring blankness I began to feel overwhelmed by everything that was going on. I went to my supervisor’s office and told her “I don’t think I’m ok”. After a kind discussion about the options the University had to support me, I found myself at the Counselling Services’ door a few hours later.
I had never spoken to a counsellor before, and I was surprised at the relief talking to this person gave me. This was a confidential and non-judgemental space. This person had no prior assumptions of me, and I could tell them exactly how I was feeling with no consequences. My supervisor’s clear knowledge of available wellbeing services was key here. Nothing she could do could fix the problem, but she got me to where help was available.
Research Group Members: To my surprise the most helpful members of my research group were those who didn’t ignore what had happened. They asked me how I was feeling, left notes on my desk with kind thoughts and invited me for a cup of tea. Above acknowledging that I was going through a difficult time this allowed me to talk about my friend and start to process my own grief.
This took up very little of their day but meant the world to me when my support network was otherwise far away. It showed me people cared, I was part of the team, and they were watching out for me.
Postdocs and other PGRs: The hardest part of my return was going home at night and feeling alone. I am still hugely grateful to my fellow PGRs and the postdocs who went out of their way to arrange social activities to invite me to. Movie nights, group board games at pub and parkruns were some of the ways my community helped through this very difficult time. Without this effort I could very easily have become isolated, they have all become good friends since I finished my PhD.
Closing thoughts
No two people grieve in the same way and as such what worked for me might not work for others, but if you are supporting a grieving PGR or other colleague then my advice falls into three parts:
- Be knowledgeable about your institution’s wellbeing services and how to access them.
- Don’t ignore the bereavement, if you’re unsure how or if they want to talk about it then ask them.
- Make them feel included. This could be asking them to join you for a cup of tea, lunch or an out of work social activity.
There is more guidance on supporting bereaved people in this short article from Mind.org.uk
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