Looking After the Researcher: Wellbeing in Academic Careers

In academia, we spend significant time discussing outputs: publications, grants, impact, promotion criteria. Far less attention is given to the person producing those outputs. Research careers involve high workloads, blurred boundaries and constant mental effort. Over time, these pressures affect not only our wellbeing but also the way we work.

It is now well documented that researchers experience elevated levels of stress and anxiety. Nearly half report mental health difficulties during their PhD, and a substantial proportion consider suspending their studies because of it. These figures are often cited, and then quietly absorbed into the background. What is more revealing than the numbers themselves is how normalised they have become.

There remains an unspoken belief in parts of academia that struggle is proof of seriousness. That anxiety signals commitment. That if you are not exhausted or wrestling with imposter syndrome, you are perhaps not pushing yourself hard enough. Alongside this runs a quieter but constant feeling, that whatever we have done, it is still not enough. Even productive periods can be overshadowed by the suspicion that more should have been written, read, submitted, achieved. It is tempting to see these feelings as individual failings. In reality, they arise from the structure of academic life itself - constant comparison, visible performance and scarce opportunities.

Pressure in academic careers rarely comes from a single source. It builds gradually, and from different directions. Part of it is internal: perfectionism, the fear of being “found out”, the uneasy sense that one’s competence might at any moment be exposed as insufficient. Part of it is structural: short-term contracts, competitive funding landscapes, performance metrics that attempt to compress complex intellectual work into numbers. And part of it is cultural. Busyness is easily mistaken for value and overwork is openly celebrated.

The issue is not how to remove pressure altogether. Some degree of pressure is part of intellectually demanding work. The difficulty is when it begins to crowd out everything else.

Generic calls for “self-care” rarely land well in academic environments. They feel vague, or faintly patronising. What tends to make more of a difference are deliberate limits. Academic work has no natural stopping point. There is always another article to read, another paragraph to refine, another opportunity that feels too important to decline. Unless boundaries are set, the work simply expands. Choosing not to respond immediately, not to work every evening, not to accept every request is often framed internally as a failure of commitment. It is not, it is a way of ensuring that the work remains possible over the long term. There is also a simpler point. Thinking is tiring. Long periods of concentration take energy. Stepping away from the desk is not a weakness; it is often what makes it possible to return to the work with a clearer head. Academic work is done with a body, not just a brain, and ignoring that eventually catches up with us. Comparison can quietly warp perspective. It is easy to scroll through others’ publications, conference photos or announcements and assume they are moving faster or with more certainty. What we do not see are the drafts that went nowhere, the ideas that did not work, the weeks when nothing seemed to move. Left unchecked, comparison magnifies what others appear to be doing and minimises our own progress. Talking to colleagues usually reveals a more ordinary picture. Much of academic work simply does not show. Reading, thinking, revising, changing one’s mind, starting again, none of this looks impressive from the outside. There are long stretches where it feels as though little is happening. And yet that slow, often invisible labour is usually what makes the visible outcomes possible. A quiet week does not necessarily mean an unproductive one.

It may be more helpful to ask a smaller question. Is there one boundary that would make the current workload feel less heavy? Not a complete overhaul. Just one change. Perhaps protecting one evening a week. Perhaps saying no to something that is not essential. Perhaps leaving email until the morning. Modest adjustments often make more difference than ambitious plans that are hard to sustain.

Academic work can be meaningful and absorbing. It can also take up more space than we realise. Looking after the researcher is not about indulgence. It is about making it possible to stay in the work without being worn down by it.