PERSONAL STORY
Watching the Sky to See Myself Better
My journey in astrophysics: overcoming anxiety along the way
I had a dream that I was in a city walking with my sisters. They were visiting me, and I was so excited to show them around Berlin. Suddenly, I saw my supervisor appeared out of the blue. I became very stressed and felt guilty for having such a great time with my sisters, I knew I was behind work and needed to work harder.
I woke up suddenly. It was around 10 in the morning on a Saturday.
I knew immediately that the dream was a reflection of how anxious I feel at work. It’s not just right now — it’s a constant feeling I face every day. I feel like an imposter, fearing that soon my supervisor will realize she shouldn’t have hired me.
I am an astrophysicist, and when I say this to people who are not in my field, they are usually so surprised and say, “Wow… this is so cool. You must be so smart.”
It is cool, I agree, but I don’t think the second statement is true. First, because being a scientist doesn’t require to be smart; science is not a gift or talent you’re born with. It’s all about perseverance in my opinion. And second because I doubt that I’m smart almost every day at work since my job is very challenging.
When I applied for my current position, I was initially competing with 40 other people. In the interview round, there were about 15 of us, and the final round of interviews was just between me and another candidate.
I met other candidates at a virtual introductory meeting. Everyone introduced themselves, and to me, they all sounded super great. I thought to myself, “There is no way I can get this position.”
But I did. I have felt like an imposter since the beginning, feeling like everybody else is way more intelligent than me, or that I don’t deserve to be where I am. I feel lost with lost of tasks I’m given. There are things that I feel I’m good at such as writing paper drafts, giving presentations, and taking observational shifts. But when it comes to producing science and making scientific progress in my project — whether it’s working on my code or generating ideas based on existing papers — I feel super dumb.
When I feel anxious, my heart races. I can’t sleep well or eat properly, and my mind fixates on one thing — work!
The feeling that I’m not good enough pushes me to my limits, driving me to try harder. But then I get drained. I usually don’t recognize it and keep pushing myself until exhaustion takes over. Work usually goes really bad at this stage because I’m too tired to function properly, and eventually, I burn out. My body forces me to stop.
I pause — but before I know it, the cycle starts all over again. That’s how it’s been for as long as I can remember, at least for the past four years.
My work gives a lot of meaning and purpose to my life. I wanted to study astrophysics since I was a teenager. I wanted to explore the universe to discover myself better. I had so many philosophical questions, and I knew science could provoke me to find my own answers — or at least satisfy the curiosity I’ve had since childhood.
I’m currently living my dream job, and I know not many people can say that about their work. For that, I’m deeply grateful. But I need to admit that I never knew how difficult this could be.
A career in academia is indeed challenging. There is this constant competition among scientists wanting to increase their citations, make important collaborations, and produce novel science. To be a scientist, you sometimes need to sacrifice your life for science.
I’m not joking. At least in Europe and in astrophysics, as far as I know, you need to move to different places as part of your academic journey. This is a requirement if you want to have a permanent position at a university.
It’s so challenging to secure a permanent position in academia. I have seen many people who have completed numerous postdocs (postdocs are research positions suitable for people who have completed their PhDs) and they still struggle to have a stable life as scientists. It is extremely competitive, and the number of positions available is very limited.
Plus, having no stability means that it’s so difficult to have a stable personal life as well. If you’re lucky, you have a partner who is up for going through this crazy journey with you, where you may need to move to a different country every two to three years.
Throughout all these years of studying in Europe, I have only had one professor who was not white. The chances of having a permanent position in astrophysics are so slim that I often question myself whether the limited opportunities will ever allow someone like me, a woman of color, to have a career in academia. This just adds to the constant pressure I feel and makes me feel more overwhelmed.
Then, seeing people like my supervisor, who is a young, smart woman in science, makes me feel very impressed. She is the leader of our research group, and I truly look up to her. She is very smart and understanding, with a vibrant energy that she brings to work. She is a successful scientist as well as a mother of two children. She is one of those women whose presence brings great vibes to my life, and I wish to be like her. To me, it seems like she has it all.
PhD years are not too long. There is a lot of pressure to finish everything before your funding runs out and to graduate. I have seen people who struggled to finish their projects, and almost every PhD I know has felt stressed at some point in their career.
Also, being a foreigner and living on a different continent doesn’t make it any easier for me to navigate what I face. I have to handle paperwork, integrate into a new culture, and learn a new language. My family lives on another continent, and I need to manage my life on my own.
For the first three years abroad, I was single, which made these challenges even more difficult because I had no emotional support next to me. Right now, I’m feeling better because at least I have an amazing, caring partner by my side.
All these years abroad, I have written a lot about my life, people I’ve met, challenges I’ve faced, but I have never written about my job — never, not even once. I don’t know why. Maybe I feel so exhausted by my anxiety that when I’m not working, I don’t even want to think about it. Or maybe I’m just trying to escape from it.
I talked with my supervisor, with people who have done a PhD, and with my friends and partner. I received plenty of encouragement and compliments, yet this feeling never leaves me!
What is the core reason for my anxiety? I read this sentence somewhere that anxiety is the feeling of unease or fear that arises when we become aware of our freedom to make choices. What do I need to choose that is terrifying me so deeply?
I will go to Africa for one month next summer to learn how to work with a giant telescope. There is going to be a new chapter for me to learn lots of new things, and I wish that, along with all the other skills I will learn, I will also learn how to work under a lot of stress and not feel like an imposter, to feel comfortable in my own skin, and to believe that I’m capable of what I do.
