Nervous Breakdown Recovery: One Woman’s Story of Healing

Can you recover from a nervous breakdown? In this deeply personal recovery story, an academic anonymously shares how the intense pressures of postdoctoral life led to a mental breakdown—and what it took to find stability again. If you’ve experienced emotional collapse, burnout, or mental overload, you’re not alone—and recovery is possible.

#AcademicTwitter is filled with firsthand accounts of mental health struggles in academia—from overwhelmed students to early career researchers to tenured faculty. A recurring theme in these threads is the systemic failure of academic institutions to properly address mental health crises.

While I believe many colleagues across universities in the UK have received inadequate support, my own nervous breakdown recovery story offers a more hopeful perspective.

I'm a postdoctoral researcher working on a digital humanities project at a top UK university. I work remotely, which suits me—my laptop and a stable internet connection are all I need. Our small team is deeply collaborative: if one person is unable to work, the ripple effect touches us all.

Our roles are so specialized that finding short-term replacements is nearly impossible. We’re up against tight deadlines and carry significant responsibilities. I wish I could be more specific, but as an early career researcher, I’m cautious about revealing too much. What I can say is this: a long-term absence due to illness could jeopardize the entire project.

I completed my Ph.D. in 2014 and transitioned immediately into a postdoctoral researcher role. I have a long-standing history of anxiety and depression, and I’ve been taking medication for over two decades. At my induction meeting, I told my supervisor plainly: "I am a postdoc about to have a mental breakdown."

During that conversation, I disclosed my medical history and explained that despite a few “blips,” I had completed my Ph.D. without major issues. I didn’t expect anything unmanageable to arise.

To their credit, my supervisor appreciated the honesty. The university’s admin team was notified of my disability status, and although they offered me a meeting with Occupational Health, I declined.

I won’t go into the specifics of what triggered my breakdown—that’s a different story. It wasn’t the job or academia itself, but rather my relationship with myself and a cascade of circumstances I couldn’t control. By December 2015, I was mentally unraveling, and in January 2016, I experienced a complete nervous breakdown.

I immediately fled to my parents’ home in a deeply rural and remote part of the UK, where I spent the next three months mostly in bed. During that time, I was officially diagnosed with severe depression and began living with OCD intrusive thoughts. (OCD, in case you didn’t know, is really vile and completely misunderstood.)

As soon as I left, I let my boss know that I was unwell. They understood how serious things were and asked me only two things: first, to provide a doctor’s note, and second, to check in with them once a week. Thankfully, I was entitled to three months of full sick pay—my university has a generous mental health leave policy, which was a huge relief.

After some time, I asked if I could begin doing a bit of work while still signed off sick—just to give me a sense of structure. My boss and the Departmental Administrator agreed. Slowly, I increased my workload until I was doing about half of my usual daily tasks. In April, I found the courage to leave my parents’ home. By then, I was on half-pay, which continued for the next three months. I returned to work full-time at the end of July, mostly because that’s when Statutory Sick Pay began.

Throughout the remainder of 2016, I continued to struggle mentally. I was on a long waiting list for specialist OCD treatment and began weaning off a high dose of diazepam from September to November—far too quickly, in hindsight. By December, my mental health deteriorated so badly that I voluntarily admitted myself to a psychiatric ward. I stayed a few days before being discharged, but was readmitted over Christmas for two weeks.

A medication change followed the second admission, but it didn’t suit me. In January 2017, I was admitted again. My boss remained supportive, asking only for regular doctor’s notes. Then, following an incident, I was placed under Section 3 of the UK Mental Health Act—meaning I was legally detained for up to six months. Telling work about this was terrifying. I feared what it meant for the project. But all I received in return was empathy: “My colleague and friend is unwell. I just want them to be OK.”

I spent two months in the hospital and was discharged in late March. In April, I met with a compassionate doctor in Occupational Health who supported a phased return to work starting in May. Our project was due for funding renewal in June, and my department kindly offered a flexible contract if I wanted it. I ultimately declined, but it meant a lot to have the option.

My boss asked me to check in by email each Friday, but never pressured me. By mid-June, I was working full-time again. When I saw Occupational Health again in August, they were amazed by my progress, and told me their door was always open.