Mental Health and Archaeology (Post-SHA Reflection)

TW / CW: in-depth descriptions of depression and mental health issues

I laughed way too hard at this. Sorry. 

This past week, myself and thousands of other archaeologists attended the 53^rd Annual Conference on Historical and Underwater Archaeology – i.e., the annual Society for Historical Archaeology (SHA) conference. It was a total blast – I got to explore Boston, I learned a lot of useful things during the symposia, I was able to meet professionals in my field and make connections, and I became inspired to put together a couple of topics for my own future presentations. I was surprised at the amount of familiar people who were at the conference; quite a few of my friends and colleagues, both known in person and on the Internet, attended. Meeting my Internet archaeology pals for the first time was incredible, though I didn’t get the chance to have many in-depth conversations with some of them (there also were a few people who I simply didn’t recognize until it was too late to introduce myself). The driving force in preventing me from meeting more people and networking, though, was the crippling depression I had during my trip.

From October to about mid-April, I get horrendous Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD, which is…a convenient acronym). Symptoms are different for everyone, but for me, SAD causes mild to extreme depression, anxiety in social situations, sensory overload, and irritability. I recall feeling a sense of extreme sensory overload and anxiety during the opening reception of the conference, due to the sheer volume of people and voices who were gathered all at once in the Grand Ballroom of the Sheraton. Most nights after the symposia were over, I felt myself craving isolation and time alone, while simultaneously wanting to go out with my friends at the conference (which is typical for my SAD: equally wanting social interaction while desperately wanting to be alone, all at the same time, in one feeling). Depression affects my performance in the field and lab as well; I don’t think as clearly, I withdraw into myself, and I’m unenthusiastic (a trait that is very uncharacteristic for me). However, I’m not alone in this; after seeing fellow professionals talk about this on Twitter (see also Alex Fitzpatrick’s blog post on #DiggingWhileDepressed) and after talking in person to my colleagues, it is apparent that depression is a common problem within our discipline, especially within commercial and academic contexts.

Archaeologists who travel a lot for their jobs are away from their family, friends, and their entire home base for extended amounts of time. In the context of a conference, for example, one is surrounded by thousands of people within the same or adjacent disciplines, all of which are in different walks of life; though I feel very well-versed and experienced in my own field, I was surrounded by others who knew way more than I do about various aspects of my research interests. It can be hard to keep feelings such as imposter syndrome at bay (not to mention the SAD-induced social anxieties). It was difficult for me to navigate through my feelings during the SHA conference, a professional setting that was far from home, and is an experience that is still relatively new to me.

Aside from being apart from home often, cultural resource managers, academic archaeologists and graduate students are subject to immense workloads and unrealistic expectations. Archaeological fieldwork, lab work, and research are all physically and mentally taxing. Unfortunately, in the US, field technicians doing much of the “grunt work” in CRM don’t have access to health care through their company, which makes seeking professional help a difficult [read again: inaccessible] task. Graduate students who aren’t supported financially by their university experience the same issue. Academic archaeologists are expected to teach large classes, keep office hours, and publish their own research, while most have other obligations at home that need to be taken care of. Doug’s Archaeology highlighted some sessions and papers that explore some of the work that archaeologists have done to study and bring forward these issues. Discussions of mental health in our field are continuous and frequent, and I think that’s a very good thing; my hope with bringing this conversation back into the spotlight is that “mental health”, “emotional well-being”, and whatever else you want to call it, get the same treatment that physical illnesses do for archaeologists.

Since mental health varies so greatly among everyone, I’m refraining from handing out unsolicited advice – I don’t have any “advice” anyway. However, I do encourage folx to utilize their support groups – professional therapists, friends and family, colleagues, and so on – and, if you’re comfortable with speaking out about it, I encourage you to do so. I was surprised at the amount of solidarity there was out there when I started talking about it, and it inspired me to keep at it. However, I can’t stress enough how much clinical, professional therapy will help. As a side note, I never used to crack open about my own mental health, neither with whatever kind of other garbage I’m going through. There’s no specific reason for that; I just didn’t do it. However, I’ve been finding that being openly honest about it actually helps me cope with it; I’m no longer embarrassed to admit anything. I know how to treat and manage SAD, and at this point, I’m now able to recognize the different situations in which SAD resurfaces; though, I’m not afraid to admit that I’m still learning (mostly via the hardest ways possible) how to cope with the stress of working CRM, working in academic spaces, and being a graduate student all at the same time, all while being plagued with SAD. I thank my friends and colleagues for being part of my support system.

I think it’s crucial to remember that it is perfect normal and fine to become burnt out in a job and/or career that you genuinely enjoy. Needing to take a break does not mean that you stopped loving it, or that you no longer appreciate it. Being dedicated to the grind is one thing but treating yourself like a robot is another. Trust me, literally everyone in archaeology experiences this at some point in their careers. Please take the time that you need – get the help that you need – and take care of yourself this year.