My burnout during graduation

Sara Adelino

Maybe I started my Master's degree on the wrong foot, or maybe I was just very unlucky because a pandemic began right as my graduation was about to start. Either way, it doesn't matter whether it was me or the global health crisis that caused me a burnout — what matters is that I now hold an MA in Linguistics. That’s a big deal for me. I don’t know exactly when everything started to fall apart before my eyes, but maybe you can figure it out with me.

I remember the feeling of uncertainty during my first week as a graduate student back in 2020, lacking motivation to continue my current project. I could have spoken with my advisor and asked to change my subject, but decided against it  because I thought it was just my anxiety as a newbie, along with my long history dealing  with a single topic. To provide a bit more context: in my country (Brazil), we begin research during our undergraduate studies (~4 years). So, by the time I applied for the MA, I had already spent three years researching as a junior in my lab. My BA thesis was a descriptive analysis of Brazilian Portuguese, and I had planned to build on that work during my MA.

I only had one week on-site before the lockdown. It took three months for my program and university to set up a well-structured remote working/learning system. That meant everyone lost a semester. It was especially difficult for us, the researchers with internships, because we had just a year and a half to conduct real research, write it, and defend it online – otherwise, we would have to repay everything and lose any future opportunities. By the time I started working with my data, my mental health had already been shattered by the pandemic, and I was 100% focused on surviving economically. I couldn’t attend therapy because I didn’t feel comfortable with all my family at home, and I still had that strange feeling of unease and academic dissatisfaction. But I had to do it. It was my career dream, and it wasn’t cheap.

I went through all the research steps successfully, but when my advisor said it was time to write the thesis, everything took a turn for the worst. I couldn’t look at the document page without having a panic attack. I couldn’t even think about it without experiencing anxiety or a depressive crisis. I tried all the suggestions from family, friends, and the Internet, and even  followed my old therapist’s guidance once the lockdown was lifted and I started seeing her again. But nothing worked. I couldn’t face my thesis, and the only thing that helped me was giving up. 

And you might ask: Wait! But how do you have an MA then? My stroke of luck occurred after I had emailed the university to cancel my enrollment and the program secretary replied, “Oh, I’ll mark this as a Leave of Absence request, so if you change your mind, you can come back in one semester. If not, your enrollment will be automatically cancelled.” I was 100% sure I wouldn’t return but I agreed with it, and I was already preparing to apply for a loan if the university asked for the money back. So, I left it alone and decided to travel. I forgot that I once wanted to be a linguist and let the past be the past. But after a handful of months, I started missing doing research. I’m a scientist. I’m a linguist. I couldn’t stay away. I missed being an academic weapon. So, on a random night and with my mind clear from all this suffering, I binge-wrote my thesis, just for fun. I then sent it to my advisor, asking if it was ready and in time to be defended. And luckily, it was. Now, I’m a former linguist, with my MA thesis accepted without any modifications, from one of the best universities in Latin America. And I'm looking forward to my PhD.
 

If you’ve read my story carefully and noticed my mistakes, you’ll probably agree that:

• I should have spoken with my advisor as soon as the uneasiness started—and so should you if you're going through something similar. I'm sure that your advisor, or any senior scientist or professor you know, has experienced a mental breakdown and will know how to support, help, and guide you, just as Virgilio did for Dante in The Divine Comedy.
   

• I should have sought help at the start. From elementary school to retirement, life is hard. Everyone needs therapy, supportive friends, hobbies, and different ways to release stress and let their mind breathe. Sometimes we don’t have the tools to unwind. But you have to remember that it’s important to unload, relax, and take time for yourself.
   

• I shouldn’t have underestimated the Master's degree, nor overestimated my ability to push through it during a breakdown. Everyone will tell you that it’s hard — and you should believe them just enough to avoid burnout, but also doubt it just enough to not be paralyzed by your feelings.
   

• I should have made better use of my group of supportive friends. I don’t mean to say my friends weren’t great — they were. But I should have communicated with them more. Everyone in your research group, lab, or university is going through similar challenges and emotions. Talk to them. Ask for help, or just meet for drinks after work. Research can feel very lonely, but you’re not alone.
   

• I should have taken some time off and enjoyed my free time. Giving up is not the answer, and it can come at a great cost. Make sure to find real breaks to let your mind and body rest. If you can’t quiet your mind on your own, try engaging in hobbies and activities with your loved ones that help you forget about work or study for a while. Your career will still be brilliant, whether you take a week, a month, or even a year for yourself.

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• I should have started practising research habits early on. Even if you’re an experienced researcher like me, every new academic event, degree, or lab still brings new challenges that may seem bigger than they really are. Practising your craft from the beginning will not only improve your skills, but also make it feel like an ordinary activity, like buying bread at the bakery.

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And last but not least: there are many articles about mental health and many colleagues here on Academic Memories that can help you (cf. The Cognitive Toll Of Long COVID: Exploring Possible Mechanisms, Behind the Brain Fog: The Impact of Major Depressive Disorder on Working Memory and more on the blog). And I’m also available as your academic crying shoulder if you need it. As an academic peer and as someone who has survived burnout during graduation, I’ll do my best to help you go through this thorn.