Well, I used to think that question was just that. However, I think that everything must be much, much more complicated.
One thing that I have learned is that psychological damage is real. Another thing I have learned is that it is not easy to recover from being psychologically damaged.
To give an example, my advisor accused me of plagiarism for a paper. He never looked at my work, and won't look at my group's, all because something popped up on a plagiarism detector. He harshly commented on how he couldn't have a graduate student who could not be trusted. The issue was a complete misunderstanding, where I had forgot to remove a note to include information about a specific technology.
However, even after the misunderstanding was resolved, I could not write. I could not sleep for weeks on end.
What pushed me over? The stress of suffering a year with a sick significant other paired the sickness of my relatively recent addition of my cat. I was the soul breadwinner for a year. My significant other and I had no guarantee that he could recover. He luckily did due to chiropractic help and massage therapy, but there was a real worry that he could not recover. Now the cat, who I personally pushed for, may have cancer. We will find out soon exactly what she has through a biopsy, but the chance is extremely high.
Mental stress is real, and psychological damage is real. A person's confidence is what stands between him/her and the world. When that confidence is shattered, all that is left is the fragile soul. Some days, I feel like that confidence is the shell that heals you and recovers your self-worth in life. Yes, there are concepts such as "God is there for you," but no one can help you if you aren't able to help yourself. That statement is not true, but it feels true.
When I am able to piece myself together, I feel fragile, as if I am a broken pot that has been hastily glued back together. Does this weariness end? I hope so.
This reminds me of the times where I was suicidal. During that time, I had no support, not even the support of a cat. All I had was the conviction that I should not end everything. I never knew why I shouldn't, but I chose to believe in that faith. A few months later, I had the best friend man could ask for: a big orange cat who believed himself to be a dog.
However, he died a few years ago due to age and an blood clot in the spine. So quickly, his life was snuffed out. So quickly, I was desolate and bereft of a companion who I could completely trust.
Now I have the support of a significant other, but this year made me fearful. What happens if he becomes incapacitated. Does that mean that our livelihood rests on me? But what if I get sick? Do we just starve?!
These serious questions, ones that I would have never noticed if we had remained healthy, came flooding in because I also fell on my hip. I could not walk for weeks. Afterwards, I could not walk without pain for months. I still walk with pain.
And I feel like I can't tell my advisor about that pain. I fear that I will be poo-ed on because I am weak and not perfectly healthy. Thus, the criticism during that incident came crashing down, suffocating me, and stopping me from wanting to touch even a keyboard.
Now I compensate and mentally medicate myself. I become the most productive on my obnoxiously loud and bright keyboard. My most productive still brings on pain, chills, nausea, and memories.
Maybe the memories will disappear.
Maybe I will recover.
