Monday, April 21, 2014

Anxiety

As I get older, the more anxious I've become. About anything and everything. Sometimes, I get mini anxiety attacks and they scare me. What are they triggered by? I don't know, but nothing serious, I assure you. Most of the time, they are very minor things.

At my old job, I would have really bad anxiety attacks when I hear the jingling of keys. It usually meant that my boss was in. My anxiety isn't as bad anymore as back when I was at my old job, but sometimes, it pokes its ugly head into my life and I can't help but want to drop everything and go hide somewhere.

This weekend, I was doing an experiment that requires that my reaction is done over 2 days in a bucket of solution. This bucket has tubes coming in and out of it --bringing in and out solutions from various other buckets --all facilitated by a peristaltic pump. The first time I did a mock experiment like this a couple of months ago, the pump died. Luckily, it was just a mock reaction, with just water, so no major experimental harm was done except that I killed a machine. The second time I did this experiment, I used a different pump, but all the tubings became tangled up and when I came in on Saturday to check on my experiment, I found solutions all over the cold room, and all the buckets on their sides...and sadly, my reactions on the cold room counter. Needless to say, the experiment failed. The third time was another mock reaction, using a different pump, again with water. The pump also died (Note: Pharmacia Peristaltic Pump P-1 cannot withstand 4 degrees Celcius). This weekend was my fourth time trying to use the set up, and the second time doing the actual experiment with my precious reagents. I was anxious all weekend long. I was scared to go in and check on my experiment. My heart was pounding and I was sweating a little periodically on Saturday and Sunday. I was envisioning buckets of solutions all over the cold room, reactions on the counter. Maybe I mixed up the tubings and now my bucket with the reaction is overflowing. Did I forget to turn on the stirring? Maybe the dialysis bag carrying my reactions has a cut and everything is gone.Okay, nothing crazy went wrong. But I will know the results if it worked today.

I had a mini panic attack this morning when I got a text from my mom: "Are you sure you're going home this week? Your brother misses you :( "

Oh, God. Oh, God. Heavy breathing, cold sweat.

I had many small panic attacks yesterday meeting up with my old high school friends who all have at least one kid, married, own their own homes: "When are you guys going to have kids? We're not that young anymore."

Oh, God. Oh, God. Heart pounding. Cheeks flaring. "We don't...talk about it."

"Does he want kids?"

Truth is...I don't know.

When the kids started crying as I tried to pick them up: "They can sense you're not a motherly person! Hahahah!"

My heart skipped a beat, and then started pounding. My breathing stops.Of course I want kids! Of course I want a family! Of course I want to be a mother! Of course I can be motherly!

I just can't get any of it out of my head. I need to focus at work. And all I want to do is crawl into a small space where no one matters, my actions, reactions are independent from everyone in my life, and I can just be.

I need to do something about this crazy anxiety I seem to have developed. And no, I don't think a vacation will help. It will just remind me of all the things I should be doing instead of idly frolicking around.

Saturday, April 5, 2014

You're not alone

I'm gonna talk about something that does not get talked about enough; it's the psychological abuse of postdocs, grad students, and techs by their supervisors in academia. It's one of the most important problems that we face in this industry and somehow, it's a taboo topic of conversation and often has a negative connotation. In fact, I am not sure how many people in academia (victims, abusers and bystanders alike) actually see it as a problem. Well, if it's not happening to me, who cares? Or, I can't tell someone how to supervise their people. And best yet, they're just too sensitive.

I'll start by talking about my own experience. I came from a Ph.D. lab that was very supportive. I had a great supervisor (mentor) who was not only a respectable scientist, but a decent human being. He took good care of the people who worked for him. He has a very idealistic outlook about the academic world that he instilled in all of us. I continued in science because of mentors like him. I moved to San Francisco, expecting what my former mentor had always told me: "Your postdoc years will be the best years of your research life. This is when you will get to develop yourself as a scientist, have the freedom to explore your scientific ideas, and not have to worry about managing a lab. A postdoc is science nirvana." Kickass, I thought. I had a very good graduate education, in a place that cared very much about their students. Now, it was time for me to join the big league. I was more than ready. Needless to say, I thought I was invincible. Hardwork and Intensity never deterred me from any situation. (One time when I was down at Louisiana State University to do a very interesting and important experiment, I worked around the clock for 10 days, slept between incubation periods, to get the experiment working, repeated three times to make sure the results were real, and had the results all ready for publication. Normally, this would take a few months and I did it in 10 days; I don't mind working hard.) I was clever, knowledgeable, passionate, with great ideas. I've got all the tools I needed.

I joined a lab that I thought was the perfect environment for me. I was wrong. Details of this experience deserves its own entry, a bottle of wine, and a box of Kleenex. But what I want to talk about is how the abuse affects young scientists. What I absolutely hate is the fact that some supervisors feel that it's PERFECTLY OKAY to use the insecurities that postdocs already have against themselves as a weapon to milk every drop of energy, passion, and creativity from their postdocs. Grad students become postdocs not for the glory or the fame, and God knows, not for the money. They go into it thinking they have the tool set sufficient to explore science and do experiments to answer important questions in biology (or physics, or psychology, etc). Along with this confidence and passion is a lot of insecurity. Everyone around you is now really really smart. You may be working in the same department, or on the same floor, or even in the laboratory of a Nobel Laureate. The graduate students who you now work with side by side are probably even smarter than you are as a postdoc. The insecurity of a postdoc comes from what you think is expected of you: 1) to produce sexy data quickly, efficiently, and worthy of a coveted Nature/Science/Cell publication, 2) to know almost everything, afterall they are paying you the "big bucks" for your research experience and your ideas, 3) And you THINK that you're expected to drop aspects of your personal life to fulfill the life of the research. So as an ultra-overachiever that you naturally are, you beat yourself up and alter your lifestyle so that you can  match these expectations. And when your supervisor uses these exact reasons to push you to work even harder, they end up driving you over the edge. I strongly believe that manipulation cannot be a tool to exploit workers who are in it because of their passion.  But unfortunately, it IS the best weapon if you're going to exploit someone who is there because of their passion.

When I was experiencing this kind of abuse, I thought I was the only one. Which lead to a lot of demeaning self-lectures: put yourself together, stop being such a pussy, you need to work harder, smarter. And a significance increase in self-doubt over basal levels: if this is what it takes to be successful in the big league, I can't do it. Maybe it's because of the high level of research in the bay area...I can't compete with these people. I don't have what it takes. I am not good enough. I don't work hard enough. I don't sacrifice enough. But I cannot mentally or physically work anymore than this. I can't sacrifice anymore than this. I guess that means I can't make it. I won't make it. I don't have what it takes to succeed. Maybe if I just suck it up and stick it out for another year, I will get a publication and get out. I can't throw it all away. I can't be this big of a pussy.

I remember coming home everyday incredibly down on myself and some nights, crying because I didn't think I had what it takes to finish my training to realize my dreams of being a scientist. I thought I was invincible. I thought I could take anything and handle it all. I didn't realize I was so weak, so sensitive.

Well, I was one of the lucky few to get out of my situation and into a new postdoc position. I did it with the help of older faculty members and my mentors (including my Ph.D. advisor). Although in my mind, I knew that this happens sometimes, that sometimes, a certain lab is not a good fit and you just gotta move on. I just didn't know how common it is and how common the abuse is in the realm of academia. During the process, I felt so alone. Why am I in this situation and others are fine? Maybe this whole thing is because of me. This could all be my fault. I am learning now how common these self-deprecating thoughts are in other young scientists like myself. I wasn't alone, but I felt alone because no one else talked about it. Postdocs who are dealing with it don't talk about it because they don't want to make it seem like they're whiny little bitches. They don't want it to get back to their supervisor, who could make their life hell. They are quietly pushing themselves to give MORE so that they can reach those expectations. They promise themselves, in one year, I will publish and get out. And of course, by that point, even though they haven't yet published that paper, they are so pot committed that they will stay longer and bear the abuse. And now when I meet these sad postdocs, I tell them, "you're not alone. Talk to your real mentors, talk to other postdocs. You will feel better knowing that you're not alone. Get someone to help you get out of your situation, and give science another try. Not all supervisors are abusive. Don't let just one crazy person ruin your dreams."

Psychological abuse and manipulation cannot be a criteria to being successful in academia. This behavior cannot be rewarded with success!

Rihanna - Stay

Thursday, April 3, 2014

Heavy Lifting

My boyfriend has been incredibly amazing lately. And yes yes, everyone thinks their sigo is incredibly amazing. But mine has been...well amazing beyond expected. I have been really busy, stressed out, and tired from applying for postdoctoral fellowships. By April 8 (in less than a week) I would have written 5 applications, two of which are REALLY FRICKEN LONG. Usually at home, I am the one who does 75% of the cleaning and 60% of the cooking. I had to break it down into percentages because I am don't do all the work all the time, but I do lead the process and delegate. The cleaning is mostly initiated all by me --but I like it (crazy to believe, I know) because I like taking care of Adam and of my home. Anyhoo. Due to the piles and piles of work with which I have been preoccupied, I have not touched anything in the kitchen in almost 2 weeks. No cleaning, no dishes (maybe once), and absolute NO cooking. Hells. No.

What has Adam done? Everything. I mean, everything. He's made dinner almost every night, except that one night when he took me out for sushi to celebrate because I had just submitted one of the big fellowship applications. He just did a ton of dishes tonight and sometime a few days ago. And I think, he even wiped the counters last weekend. Of course, he would always make me a drink before he made our nightly meals (gin & tonic, strawberry daiquiris, mojitos --all of my favs). Completely unsolicited. And I just feel so happy and lucky and special and so incredibly loved. For a while, I wondered if he had this in him. People had warned me that he wasn't too much of a "warm" person. He's extremely independent, does his own thing --that's how he's been for all of his 33 years. Nothing was going to change. But the Adam that I met a few years ago was incredibly nurturing and nothing like they said. After we had lived together for a while, it felt like that nurturing aspect of him was periodically MIA and at some video-game-land. Maybe I was just doing more than I should've and he became comfortable. Or maybe I often have too many expectations of him. But for the last couple of weeks when I have been off in my own crazy science world, he's really picked up all of my slacks around the apt, and has done all of it without me even saying anything. He even went to pick up groceries over the weekend when it was supposed to be my turn --told me I didn't have to worry about it. He even dropped off our rent check at the realtor's office! A chore that I often do!

So. I just wanted to show off how sweet my boyfriend is, just for a quick moment. I remember hearing, or reading, somewhere about how partnership can't always be 50/50. There are times when you have to jump in and take over 90/10, and there are times when the other person does the 90/10. Just glad I have someone who's got my back. Without me ever asking. Hopefully he stays like this forever.

St. Joseph Island, Ontario - Summer 2013

Chris Stapleton - What Are You Listening To