On the second day of a conference, I awoke to a 7 a.m. phone call from my dad. “Azmi, your grandfather had a brain hemorrhage and was admitted to the hospital.” I told my dad I’d fly out to meet him that day, but he encouraged me to stay to present my research. By the time I arrived the following night—poster and conference clothes in hand—my grandfather had passed away. The rush of grief was overwhelming. Over the next few days, I focused on my family and helped plan the funeral. Then, when the time came to get back to work, I developed a self-care plan and communicated my needs to others. I knew what to do thanks to a mental health first aid course I had taken, which taught me how to care for myself as well as others.
After finishing my Ph.D. in the fateful spring of 2020, I had been unemployed for 4 months, so I was excited to start my postdoc, moving 3000 kilometers across the country in the middle of the pandemic. Yet something felt off. Workplace hours were staggered and much of the inperson training for my projects was virtual. I was lucky to have a supportive supervisor, but I did not know anyone outside my direct colleagues in the lab. I coped with my feelings of anxiety and isolation by burying myself in work, putting in long hours at the bench.
After getting involved with my postdoctoral association’s advocacy committee, I quickly saw that many incoming postdocs were facing similar troubles. Wanting to do what I could to help, I took on the role of disseminating information about work-life balance and mental health, announcing seminars, meditation sessions, and mental well-being programs.
One day, the organizers of a mental health first aid course asked me to send out an announcement. I was intrigued. I had never dealt with a mental health emergency. But it struck me that if I wanted to be the best advocate for my community, I should lead by example and take the course myself.
A key lesson was that no one should struggle alone.
- Azmi Ahmad
- Yale University
When training day came, I expected to mostly learn about how to handle emergencies. But the 6-hour session was much more broad ranging, covering how to deal with chronic situations and what to do to take care of yourself. A key lesson was that no one should struggle alone, and that it’s important to develop a self-care plan by thinking about the people, programs, and activities in your support network that can help you deal with mental health challenges.
After taking the course, I felt more confident in my ability to defuse difficult situations and direct people toward professional help should I ever come across an emergency. The training helped me become a better listener. For instance, I’ve learned to be mindful of my body language—to make eye contact, maintain a soft tone, and focus on being present and actively listening. When a friend reached out to say they felt dismissed at work and wanted to quit, I listened and gave reassurance as best I could. I’ve also found I can listen more attentively to my own thoughts and feelings and identify steps to help me feel better.
When my grandfather died, I didn’t bury myself in work as I had done in the past. Instead, I put my well-being first and reached out to others who could help me. I told my adviser that I’d need to take a break and miss a lab meeting, and he understood. I created a physical health plan—adding more exercise to my daily routine—and took time each morning to practice guided meditation. I also opened up about my feelings with close friends, who were supportive and would then regularly check in on how I was doing. These steps didn’t magically erase my grief. But they helped me work through it and connect with those around me.
You don’t need a formal course. But develop your own mental health first aid kid with self-care strategies, and don’t be afraid to connect with others. Academia—and life in general—can be challenging. We’re better off when we can rely on others and support ourselves.
