I finished a doctoral program in December, which marked an exciting moment in my life. I’m no longer in school for the first time since I was six. After each degree, I jumped into the next one, the only break being certifications. It was a blessing to work towards my education, knowing that so many cannot pursue higher education. Honestly, I also enjoy being a student and working towards learning. Graduating has inadvertently caused a challenge in bouncing back after my graduation: anhedonia. I have since learned that this is a common struggle for postgraduates.
Anhedonia?
We love our big words in psychology. It makes us feel rather smart about pretty simple ideas. Anhedonia and depression are sometimes confused, but they are very distinct. They are related to one another, as one can make the other worse. Anhedonia is also a common symptom of depression, but it’s a separate problem. I’m making this sound more confusing than it is. To illustrate the concept of anhedonia, imagine two cups. One cup represents your positive emotions, and the other represents your negative emotions. Depression would occur if the negative emotion cup is full. Anhedonia would happen if the positive emotion cup is empty. This is an oversimplification, but nobody is looking for a lecture on the topic (I hope).
A Broken Reward Center
Anhedonia also has a different cause than depression. There are a lot of reasons you may suffer from either, and some of those may be the same between the two. But some of the causes are rather unique. In my case, I have essentially broken the reward center of my brain. After spending 26 years in school, you can get pretty used to being in a class. I have trained my brain to think in terms of grades and feedback. There are more immediate rewards (assignment grades) and long-term rewards (semester grades). You constantly strive for these rewards (research, writing, presenting, reading, studying…). With the removal of grades, my brain has treated it as a removal of rewards. When we experience something we consider rewarding, our brain will respond by releasing dopamine. After traveling to the memory center, we can latch onto this behavior. We know that this behavior makes us feel good. The dopamine release tells us that we want to repeat that behavior to get more dopamine, creating a cycle. This can be good when trying to develop a habit (if I lose 5 pounds, I get to buy myself XYZ), or it can be harmful (think of any addiction). I broke the cycle. I am no longer performing the behavior and thus not getting any dopamine. I broke my brain, guys.
Fixing my Brain
I’m personally not struggling with depression, so focusing on the anhedonia is my current goal. There are currently no official treatments targeting specifically anhedonia, but there are still ways that I can deal with the issue. I know what’s wrong (the reward center), so I can map out a solution (rewards). This is about more than simply giving myself rewards– buying myself little trinkets, for example. This comes back to redefining ‘rewards.’ I have placed the entire idea of rewards into a box. Not on purpose, but if you do something (like school) long enough, it changes the wiring in your brain. Yes, we can alter our brain chemistry. My thoughts and behaviors were centered on school for so long that it had changed my brain. Graduating was the ultimate ‘cold turkey’– no gradual progression.
ANhedonia Solutions
This is still a work in progress for me. For all of the non-psych people, this is hysterically ironic. For all of the psych people, the idea that someone in the field of psychology is struggling with mental health just makes this a Tuesday (or Wednesday– we have no concept of time). I have discovered some solutions that work and have researched a slew of others I haven’t yet tried. And yes… I’m using my treatment planner on myself for the moment.
Why Have This Conversation?
So, why leave it here, with “I’m working on it, but still struggling”? Because we constantly tell our students that mental health stigma can only be broken when we normalize sharing our struggles. If I, as the teacher, can’t do this, why would they ever model that behavior? They don’t want to see perfect professors who have their lives in order. If they do, the real world is going to give them quite a shock.
Simply stating “I’m struggling” is also not enough. That’s step one (admit you have a problem– we all know this step… and maybe none of the others). I also need to model other aspects of what to do. They also need to make sure they get help and don’t try to be the rogue hero. They need to research the issue to know what they’re dealing with. And they need to do something about it. Some problems are a struggle for the rest of our lives. Others take a long time to fix. But I never want to teach them to be inactive bystanders in their health. They may only be able to take the teensiest of steps, but even a tiny step moves you forward from where you are.
