#GetWarwickTalking

Ali - Warwick Global Academy

My mental health was impacted after my father was diagnosed with cancer and died within 8 months. Only 8 months later, my son was born. To be honest, at various points during my pregnancy I was numb and in shock. What would usually be an exciting time for many was overshadowed by grief. My colleagues felt uncomfortable talking to me about my dad, but when the news of my pregnancy became public, they were happy asking about scans and baby names. All I wanted was to turn the clock back and have my dad by my side.

The birth went well. I had prepared for this mentally using hypnosis techniques. But there could be no preparation for the sheer overwhelm of being a parent. During pregnancy I developed a pelvic condition and its effects continued for months after birth. It limited both my mobility and my physical ability to care for my son. Alongside this, a wave of grief suddenly enveloped me. Having no wider family support nearby, compounded my pain.

I had friends in the area, but it wasn’t the same as close family. They were busy juggling their own life’s priorities. The best advice I received from one was ‘when they ask about your mental health, be honest.’ I was, honest. Completely honest, allowing me to receive the support I needed. I was referred to ‘HomeStart’, which was a lifesaver for me and so many others. We left our babies in a creche while parents received emotional and practical support in a group setting.

I very nearly didn’t go in. I think we all felt the same. Embarrassment, shame and guilt for our inability to cope. I remember a mother with older children too, saying ‘I don’t understand why I’m here. I know what I’m doing. I’ve done this before.’ But there doesn’t need to be ‘a reason’, sometimes depression just hits you like a brick. At other times it’s slowly drip by drip until your ‘stress bucket’ is overflowing and something has to give.

I know now that it was not my fault. A series of life circumstances, in less than 18 months, meant my world had completely changed. Asking for help is not a sign of weakness, it is a sign of strength.

Now I have become involved in the world of ‘Wellbeing’. I have learned about self-compassion techniques. Why are we so often our worst critics? I’ll leave you with one final reflection, ‘how can you be kinder to yourself today?’

Sophie - Student Opportunity

When I think back to the early weeks and months of becoming a parent, the feeling that stands out most is loneliness. I’d heard so many people say that maternity leave would be one of the happiest times of my life, but that wasn’t how it felt for me. I didn’t want to go to baby groups because the other mums seemed happy and confident, enjoying a version of motherhood I couldn’t relate to. I carried a huge sense of guilt for not feeling the same. I couldn’t say “I love you” to my child, and instead of bonding, I felt a kind of numbness. I even felt resentment toward my partner for reasons I couldn’t fully name.

It was a midwife who first noticed the signs when my baby was four weeks old, as I tried to bring myself to go into a baby group but couldn't get past the door. She gently suggested support and referred me to a local charity that helps parents with post‑natal depression. I started receiving one‑to‑one help, and with antidepressants and someone truly listening to me, things slowly began to shift. By the time my son was three, it felt like a weight I’d been carrying without realising had finally lifted.

Looking back in the years following, I realised I didn’t remember much about those first few years at all. That lack of memory brought its own guilt, but along with this strange internal pressure to “try again” someday, as if having another baby would give me a chance to do it better, to be the mum I thought I should have been the first time. With time, and with the support of people who could see the situation more clearly than I could, I began to realise that trying again wasn’t the answer - I hadn’t failed, my son was thriving, and having that external perspective helped me see that I was doing far better than I ever gave myself credit for.

If you’re in a similar place now, please know that things can change, and you deserve support just as much as anyone else.

Tom - Chemistry

I helped set up #GetWarwickTalking with colleagues and students at Warwick in 2024 because I believe that talking about mental health matters. But I also think it is important that I am willing to do what I am asking others to do. So, here is my contribution:

For this academic year, I have been living alone in North Carolina as a Fulbright Scholar. On paper it sounds like an big adventure, and in many ways it has been. But nobody really tells you what it feels like to be thousands of miles from everyone you know, navigating a huge new country, a new institution, and a new life by yourself.

There have been weeks here where the silence has been genuinely hard. No colleagues to bump into, no friends to grab a drink with, no family down the road. Just me, my work, and a lot of time to sit with my own thoughts. I have had to be more deliberate about my mental health this year than at any point in my life, being honest with myself about when I am struggling rather than just pushing through.

I have not always got that right. There have been periods of real loneliness, and at times the isolation felt genuinely stifling, like holding your breath for too long. When I first came here, weekends were the hardest, when you are not in the same time zone as the people you would normally call, and you have not yet built the kind of local connections that make a place feel like home.

Being someone who works in wellbeing does not make you immune to any of this. If anything, it can make it harder to ask for help, because you feel like you should know better.

On the difficult days I have found my own ways through. Music has been more important to me than I expected, not as background noise, but as something that gives me rhythm and tempo when I cannot find it myself. I have also, if I am honest, overdone work at times, using focus and productivity as a way of filling the space. And I have been genuinely grateful for colleagues back in the UK who have continued to include me in things despite the four- or five-hour time difference. Those small acts of connection have mattered more than they probably know. A particular mention to Sam Wilson-Thain, who asked me to help with #GetWarwickTalking again this year and reminded me that being far away does not mean being left out.

What I did not expect was how much connection I would find here too. Colleagues and students at Elon have been more generous and welcoming than I could have anticipated, and friends I have made this year have made North Carolina feel, slowly, like somewhere rather than nowhere. That has mattered enormously.

I will not pretend it has fixed everything. Weekends can still be the hardest part. But I have learned that it is okay for things not to feel okay all of the time. That is not failure. That is just what it is to be human, and the sooner we are honest about that with ourselves and with others, the easier it becomes to carry.

I know that when I look back on this year, I will see it as a transformative experience. But it is not always easy to see that when you are in it.

I am sharing this because I think men, especially men in professional and academic roles, find it very hard to say that they are not fine. I know I do. But the cost of that silence is real, and the alternative, actually talking about it, is always worth it.

It always helps to talk.

Michelle - University of Warwick

My Sundays would always go the same way. It would start around 3pm; the slow spiral downwards into pure dread. Was I fully prepared for a full teaching day tomorrow? Had I checked my emails properly and done enough planning? Maybe I’d walk in and someone would shout at me “You better go and hide! You’re in so much trouble!” because the imposter syndrome was a fully formed, larger than life, black dog constantly sniffing around my ankles…I think I’ll have a glass of wine.

The word Anxiety floated around in my brain for a few months. That’s what the internet diagnosed me with anyway. But it was more nuanced than that. And also more jagged. Plus, I couldn’t possibly have anxiety. I had a big girl job, with lots of responsibility, had bought my first house and always paid my bills on time…I think I’ll take a week off.

One week turned into two, which turned into a month. A newfound fear of returning to society had bloomed in the pit of my stomach, and I began to retreat into myself, cocooned in a perpetual blanket, watching reruns of The Office and getting to know the Uber Eats delivery guys exceptionally well. Doing the food shop was becoming a terrifying ordeal, my time was absorbed by doomscrolling TikTok and my social life was non-existent. Now I was really hacked off.

To cope, I began attaching these intrusive thoughts to patterns, movements and silly & sometimes dangerous actions, all in an effort to bargain with the shadowy stuff as if I thought “If I do this thing, then this bad thing won’t manifest”. It started small and, as these things often do, grew. It became debilitating. Unable to leave the house until I’d done all my movements and patterns, waiting out the clock to start a task because the numbers didn’t match, then not doing the task anyway, certain phrases or song lyrics on a constant loop in my brain, always loud and always there. I was confused and exhausted.

By chance, I stumbled upon the answer whilst observing a colleague delivering a PSHE lesson to some year 8s. “Mental Health” was the topic, Anxiety, Stress and OCD symptoms were covered and my incredulous, “oh that sounds familiar”, eye roll at the irony, had me Googling “therapists near me”.

It was OCD. Or, “stress, burnout and anxiety induced OCD” as my counsellor diagnosed. It had really snuck up on me. But she was right, of course. I was livid I’d allowed it to get this bad. Fuming at how I was at the mercy of this silly disorder and outraged that it had happened to me?! A few sessions passed and I began to give myself some grace. When an intrusive thought happens, our inner fight or flight reacts to protect us. It’s biology. She steps up to form new, safe patterns that comfort us and help to alleviate some of the stress (albeit often in bizarre ways). I named her Rosie. My little warrior just doing her best…like I was.

Through seeking help and talking to my closest (cannot stress enough how important talking is!), I changed my environment, which disposed of the stress and burnout and, slowly, changed my patterns and habits which eased the doom and gloom of the intrusive thoughts. That aggressive, reactive, big black dog who was always barking and circling in my brain is now just a little, doe-eyed puppy and even though I’m not completely fixed, I’m not all the way broken anymore either.

Hannah - Psychology

Living with complex post‑traumatic stress disorder has been a journey marked by both quiet battles and powerful breakthroughs. Some days are shaped by overwhelming symptoms such as flashbacks that pull me into the past, spirals of hypervigilance that leave my body exhausted, or emotional shutdowns that make even small tasks feel monumental.

Managing these moments has required patience, courage, and a willingness to sit with discomfort rather than run from it. Different types of therapy have helped me learn this. Trauma‑focused approaches like EMDR and somatic work have brought up intense emotions at times, forcing me to confront memories I once buried deeply, while talking-based therapies have given me the language to understand patterns I didn’t realise I was repeating. Not every session has felt like progress, as some have been heavy, unsettling, or confusing. But slowly, over time, they’ve taught me how to ground myself, regulate my body, and reconnect with the parts of me that trauma tried to silence.

What has made this journey bearable and sometimes even empowering is the people around me. I’m incredibly fortunate to work with some of the best people: colleagues who lead with kindness, who see the human being behind the professional role, and who remind me through small, consistent acts that I am supported. They’ve helped me realise that vulnerability is not a liability; it’s a bridge. A big part of my healing has been understanding that none of us are meant to manage our struggles alone.

We all carry stories, fears, and hopes that shape us, and there is something profoundly grounding in knowing that others stand beside you without judgment. My journey is still ongoing, and there are days that feel heavier than others, but I’m learning to meet myself with the same compassion I’ve been shown. If there’s one truth I hold onto, it’s that we heal through connection both with ourselves and with those who lift us up, and with the belief that every step forward, no matter how small, is a step toward something better.

Kimberley - Student Opportunity

I was first diagnosed with depression at aged 19, so the way I have experienced it, learned from it and grown alongside it is embedded into my personality and how I interact with the world. I don’t think of my depression as something that comes and goes – it’s more that I am predisposed to react to thoughts and experiences in a way that can be disabling (even positive ones!), which means I must engage proactively with that potential every day.

It can be exhausting monitoring my mood and behaviours, scanning for potential triggers and trying to manage them. Even with a career that started in psychology and mental health, it’s also difficult to be objective and analytical about my thoughts and feelings: “depression lies” and I sometimes find myself lacking my usual confidence at the worst possible professional moments, even if it’s a career high point!

The most frightening periods were in my first few years postpartum, when I took several periods of extended sick leave and had to rethink some major life plans. I was then gifted an incredible amount of clarity, self-compassion and practical life tools by a late ADHD diagnosis at 40. I’m now navigating between depression, ADHD and perimenopause (with HRT), which means more predictable but intense mood cycles that affect my energy levels and create brain fog and heightened levels of irrational anxiety and anger.

This is great to understand, but not any practical help if my job needs me to be on top form during a week that I’m struggling! I do feel fortunate to work in a culture where I can be open about needing flexibility, and balancing office and home working with the right medication has been life-changing… but I can never fully relax into, enjoy, or even trust, my day-to-day experiences. I try to assume that everyone has this kind of complex experience framing who they are at work, even if we all let different parts show through – it helps me manage my expectations and remember we’re all just trying our best.

Charlie - Warwick Manufacturing Group (WMG)

In 2024, my dad was hit and killed by a very drunk and drug-impaired driver. Eighteen months later, the person responsible was sent to prison. That period felt endless, suspended between shock and waiting, between raw grief and a justice process that moved painfully slowly.

In terms of my mental health, some days I functioned well. I showed up, replied to messages, kept things moving. Other days I felt distracted, flat, or suddenly overwhelmed by sadness that arrived without warning. I am not the same person I was before that event. Loss reshapes you. It alters your sense of safety, your patience, your energy, and sometimes your confidence. I am still learning who I am now in this version of my life.

My dad was generous and funny. He did not deserve to be hit so randomly, just a couple of doors from his home, on an ordinary day. I will never “get over it,” and I no longer think that is the goal. The goal is to carry it in a way that does not crush me.

What has helped has been simple but not easy: self-care, therapy, staying connected, throwing myself into hobbies, and letting people in when I would rather retreat. Speaking about it has reduced the isolation. I feel fortunate to have knowledge of mental health and to be in a position to access therapy. I do not always feel strong, but I have learned that I have endurance.

If sharing this helps reduce stigma even slightly, it is worth it. I am willing to speak with anyone navigating something similar.

Jasveen - Warwick Foundation Studies (WFS)

Since mid-January 2025, I have been navigating a very challenging period in my life, struggling with anxiety and depressive thoughts. What began as work-related stress gradually spiralled into more serious mental health issues, including major panic attacks and recurring nightmares. These symptoms were deeply rooted in traumatic experiences during the Covid-19 pandemic, when I became a victim of identity theft through social media. I was hacked, and targeted by cybercrime, which left a lasting impact on my mental wellbeing.

The trauma of that period stayed with me, and by early 2025, my stress escalated into post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). I was hospitalised and have since been receiving support from NHS mental health services, working closely with the West Midlands Police and Action Fraud Cyber Crime Agency.

Thankfully, since the start of May, I have begun to see light at the end of what has been a very dark and lonely tunnel. Living alone, with a small circle of friends and limited connection with immediate family members—due to cultural differences—made this journey even more isolating. At times, I withdrew from people, trapped in a dark place with nowhere to turn.

Identity has always been deeply important to me. During the pandemic, I found myself creating a new identity as a way to cope and protect myself. Only a few trusted colleagues in my former department (WMG) ever knew the real me. In other roles across WBS, CLL, and now WFS, I kept my personal story private, never fully opening up due to trust issues that developed during those difficult years.

Today, I feel ready to move forward. I want to progress in my career, rebuild my network, and most importantly, raise awareness about the realities of mental health, trauma, and the impact of cybercrime. My story may be unique, but I believe that by sharing it, I can help others feel less alone. I no longer wish to live in fear or hide behind silence. I regularly donate to the Mind charity and actively engage to support people who are struggling, even when I'm drained and in pain myself. It does help to talk.

Olivia - Warwick Business School (WBS)

Life can be very tough for me at times, as I’m a single parent to two young children and have struggled with anxiety and depression since my late teens. I was also diagnosed with ADHD in August 2024, however symptoms of this have affected me for as long as I can remember.

These conditions have previously caused me some difficulties in my career, however working at the University (in WBS to be specific) I feel truly seen, understood and supported in my mental health and neurodivergent struggles. I’m in an environment where I can thrive in spite of these struggles and that is down to having the most caring manager that I could ever wish for and being part of such a supportive culture. She encourages me to talk whenever I need to, she is an amazing listener and gives great advice, and she has also worked with me on reasonable adjustments for my conditions.

Sadly I also went through a traumatic event in November 2024 in which I was the victim of a serious physical assault by a neighbour, which of course had a very detrimental effect on my existing mental health conditions. The assault came after threats of violence that were unfortunately not properly dealt with by the police and my local council (who is also my landlord), and I want to advocate for how important it is to report issues like these as many times as is necessary to ensure something is done before such behaviour escalates into something more serious.

I also want to empower anyone else who has been through trauma to know that it does get better, you can get through it even stronger and more resilient, and talking about it with people you trust is pivotal. As well as opening up to close family and friends, I had a huge amount of support from my manager and some of my wider team, who listened with such care and compassion as I recalled the events and my struggles following it, which made it easier to get through such a difficult time. I also accessed counselling through the EAP which was a real lifeline for me at the time.