I’m not talking about the statistics*, of which there are many, that indicate that depression is common for graduate students. I’m not talking about the fact that we are in a profession where, according to Gary Alan Fine, 90% of our work will be judged unworthy. Our lack of lives outside of school, our inability to not feel guilty when we aren’t working constantly, our (often well founded) fears that we will not get the jobs we want… What I’m talking about are the unending leave takings that occur.
We enter into grad school, and through out our time as apprentices, we meet amazing professors, some truly inspiring undergraduates, and (perhaps most of all) fellow graduate students who will become our colleagues. And then, year by year, graduation by graduation, these people go away. Often, you are left behind — until, one day, you are the one who leaves.
Today I’m flying to my fellowship. When I get back, several people will be gone. One, at least, I didn’t get to know as well as I would like. The other, I have no words for how much I will miss him. And while I have no doubt we will still see these professors and graduate students at ASA and through travels, still contact them over email with questions and perhaps work together on projects, perhaps exchange cards and telephone calls, we will never again struggle through classes together. Or pass each other in the hallway and remark on how tired the other looks. We will never again be able to stop at each other’s desks and distract each other from getting work done.
Perhaps leave taking is just a part of life. Those of us who have lost loved ones, sometimes way too early and in circumstances that are almost more difficult than the losing itself, are constantly aware of this loss. Academia seems, to me, to heighten loss. It’s inevitable, year after year. And, I imagine it continues as we become professors and meet students who we will mentor and watch grow. Teach them all we can, and watch them leave. Not that there is not joy in this as well, but… it’s depressing.
In high school, I had a group of three friends who were incredibly important to me (not the only friends who were/are… but speaking of this one group in particular). Each was a different year in school (I was a freshman when the oldest was a senior). Each year, one of us left. In order to keep contact, we play Book of Questions over email. This has continued off and on now for around 11 years. We have gone through marriages (oddly, no kids), divorces, deaths of parents, graduations, new jobs — in short, from being 14 to being 29 (for me–add four years for the oldest). I think we’ve been through the book three times. It’s interesting to watch how our answers change. But, throughout all of this, it has highlighted to me as much as we try to stay in contact, our daily absence has made it impossible in any true nature. I wasn’t there when my friend went through her divorce. I wasn’t able to be there when her mother died (except via email), or when she married her wife. I wasn’t there when my oldest friend lost his mother. I could go on.
Friends we make in graduate school are perhaps a bit different than those we meet as children or teenagers. Yet, if we’re lucky, they are no less important. They challenge us mentally, teach us to think in new ways. My first year of my PhD program, I went through a horrible, life altering event — my mother committed suicide. For about a year, I barely held on to my own life. Thank God for Blue. I went to class, I did my homework, but all passion was gone. I was on autopilot. Enter Killa and Columbus — two graduate students in my program (my BrainTrust).
Killa is simply one of the most amazing people I’ve ever known. She’s kind, funny, and incredibly bright. She is my own personal cheerleader (even if I haven’t seen her in the outfit… yet). She has taught me about the kind of person you should try to be. While I could sing her praises for hours, it’s Columbus who is leaving, and he who inspired this post. To him I say:
Thank you. You are a constant inspiration to me to try to be better, to try to be more. You brought me back to sociology, to my passion just through being who you are. Through learning, you are constantly teaching me. To know you has given me constant surprise and joy. And, as much as I know we will continue to work together, my world will be less without having you here. Most of all, I wish you luck and happiness. I will miss you.
While academia is a constant source of loss, at least we know that we would not meet such people if this was not the circle in which we moved. The truly amazing, wonderful, intellects that sometimes we get to call friends.
*”Perhaps such figures help explain the recent finding that “depression and other forms of mental distress” were a serious problem in a study of more than 3,100 graduate students at the University of California at Berkeley. According to the study: “Nearly half of all survey respondents (45 percent) reported an emotional or stress-related problem that significantly impacted their academic performance or well-being.” Another 67 percent reported feeling hopeless at times, 95 percent felt overwhelmed in graduate school, and 54 percent said they had felt so “depressed that it was difficult to function.” About 10 percent had seriously considered suicide, and one in 200 had actually attempted suicide in the last year.” Also found here.