From my experience in academia for a couple of years now, the pursuit of academic excellence, inclusivity, and diversity has not been a top priority in many academic spaces, at least the ones I have been a part of. What happens when academia is ruled by the popular and well-known phenomenon of hustle culture instead? Well, the publish-or-perish mentality thrives, the pressure to be constantly “on” is always there. This pressure can continue to build up,  leading to troubling concerns like imposter syndrome. Here’s my story, as a full-time burnt-out disabled student in academia from India, having navigated life with arthritis (and the chronic pain associated with it), as well as Borderline Personality Disorder for many years.

Academic Ableism: The Role of the Institution

At  18 years old, I was in the 12th grade at a women’s pre-university in India where I was studying subjects I was very passionate about. After years of being under pressure of scoring well and studying subjects I wasn’t a fan of, I chose a combination of subjects that I saw my career blooming. But little did I know that one day on a beautiful morning the pain in my leg that started as a swelling would lead to years of chronic pain, and a diagnosis of arthritis would change everything. It took years to receive a final diagnosis and I was left with crippling chronic pain for a long time. For the first few months, I had to take time off from university, due to a plethora of tests, medicines, a lot of pain, and several doctor visits. 

However, as I started getting slightly better mentally and accepted my chronic pain, informing the university about my medical needs and accommodation was a very difficult experience. On hearing of my condition, the university did not see any point in me continuing anymore. According to them, my physical disability would impact and interfere with my grades and they did not feel I should continue given my situation was unlikely to improve over time. When my parents and I received this news, we were shocked and did not know how to process it.

As an 18-year-old with chronic pain, the term disability seemed foreign to me. It made me feel limited and weak and it meant that I would not be allowed to enter physical classes if anyone ever knew I was battling arthritis. I ventured into open schooling later that year, which led me to study on my own at home and helped me pursue my education and head into an undergraduate program. 

The Grey Area

My disability, as I like to describe it, is in the gray area. It is a common belief that disabilities are visible (eg: wheelchair users, mobility aids, etc), but what about those with mental illness, chronic pain, and chronic illness? My disability occupies both spaces. It is visible yet not visible; I can walk, but not more than 10-15 minutes without a supporting aid sometimes and/or while resting my leg in breaks. I cannot take the stairs or sit for too long and have to rest every few hours. Depending on the day and time, people may view me as visibly “disabled”, or not.  It is a very frustrating space to be in. Over the years this chronic pain has now also moved to other parts of my body, and I am limited to using painkillers and a lot of injections to help me balance my social life and my health concerns. Additionally, a diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder, instead of providing relief, only added more weight on me, due to the stigma around mental illness. I navigated my life and largely tried to hide my anxiety and panic attacks because I was ashamed of what I was feeling and going through it. No matter what I did, I felt like I was losing a battle with my emotions and felt I only knew how to feel pain. 

My Journey with Hustle Culture

Going through all of the above was a task in itself; it was especially challenging making sure I kept my energy up and did not burnout. As I progressed further in academia, I started to notice the academic grind (or hustle culture) that became a common pattern in many spaces where I worked. The pressure to always be working was incredibly high. This meant balancing chronic illness and burnout became a constant and ongoing struggle. Further, my parents were afraid that I was going to have a difficult time navigating academia and my disabilities – and I did – but because of their concerns, in an attempt to protect them, I decided to hide my struggles, making me feel isolated and alone. The pressure of hustle culture was relentless. I started to believe that whatever I achieved was never enough. I continued working harder and harder and became a person who was unable to stop working for a long time. I had stopped listening to the concerns of my body and mind and only focused on my productivity level, which made me experience burnout with increasing intensity. As a disabled body, stress and burnout to my body meant fatigue, increased pain in my joints, and blood pressure that increased to the lack of rest. While experiencing the physical symptoms, mentally, I started to withdraw from social events, started to isolate myself from family and friends, and changed my appetite. I did not even realize I had been experiencing this for some time until I finally had a breakthrough and an eye-opening experience at one of the labs I worked in-person.

As a disabled international student from a developing nation, academic spaces like labs are limited, and joining one meant moving across the world. Still, I could not let that interfere with my motivation to advance my career. I started to cold-email labs in developed countries, especially for remote positions as this was the way for me to be involved in research and be able to take the rest and space I needed in my comfort. Additionally, the cost associated with hospital bills related to supporting my medical needs as a disabled individual did not allow me to work in person at institutions abroad without any sponsorship of a visa or a stipend. After months of applying, I started working remotely at several high-profile universities. However, I still felt like I was not doing enough, which made my health physically and mentally worse than it used to be. When I secured an in-person lab position, I learned rapidly that it was not a disabled-friendly place; I was denied a hybrid option and was forced to leave the position due to my disability which they chose not to accommodate. This experience made me realise that academia has a hustle culture addiction problem that has always excluded the disabled community. 

I remember, after leaving the lab having experienced such ableism, the burnout kept me from working any further in any other labs, including remotely, for some time. I was unable to comprehend anything and it interfered with my daily schedules. Taking a break made me feel guilty and made me feel I was not enough, but this was a loop that I needed to get out of. As a disabled person, it seemed like I had to work twice as hard. It felt like my concerns did not matter in the context of academic spaces or academia as a whole. 

What did I do then?

In 2022, I started to recognize patterns of prioritizing work over my health which has been ultimately leading me to more and more burnout. After many attempts, I was finally at a point where I was able to start drawing boundaries by unlearning these habits and started to take care of myself, especially my mind and body. I took time off from all my workspaces and universities. I started to spend time understanding my body and concerns, its limitations as well as its strengths. It was not easy to take time off, especially when I was somewhat addicted to working, and taking a break led to a lot of self-doubts. While taking time off isn’t possible for everyone, taking an hour to introspect on one’s feelings, and experiences can be a great start. However, working with myself and taking breaks became a fruitful experience for me. It helped me draw boundaries in academia, advocate for myself, ask for nothing less than I deserve, and most importantly, validate my experiences and my emotions. 

Currently, as of 2023, although my health is not great, I have been practicing taking two days off for myself every week, where I engage in self-care. If you relate to me or know someone who is on the brink of burnout, please take a step back (if you can). Often how we feel and if things are working for us are clouded by the normalized hustle culture in academia, never giving us a moment to reflect. Resetting and recalibrating are important tools.  On days when my pain is a lot to handle, I politely take time off work and rest. It is not easy, but taking small steps toward taking care of myself has definitely been effective in reducing the burnout that I have felt for years. Most of all I have realized that my contributions are not “all or nothing” – contributing as much as my mind and body can, whilst listening to my needs, means I can continue to do the academic work that I love.  

Nikita Ghodke is a disabled international student from India. She is an aspiring speech-language pathologist and neuroscientist. She strongly advocates for underrepresented groups in academia and prioritizes open science, transparency, and inclusivity. Being a disabled student herself, she aims to encourage more open dialogues, particularly for those from developing nations, and promote greater accessibility for diverse voices in academic institutions.

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