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There is one phrase that almost every student knows by heart: “I’m fine.”
It is an easy answer. A safe answer. The answer we give when someone asks how the research is going, how the latest chapter is coming along, or how we are coping with yet another deadline.
Sometimes, we really are fine.
And sometimes, we are not.
We say “I’m fine” when the thesis feels like it is going nowhere, when the feedback is harder to take than we expected, when sleep has become an afterthought, or when we quietly wonder whether we are good enough to be here. We say it because we do not know how to explain what we are feeling. We say it because everyone else seems to be managing. And sometimes, we say it because admitting that we are struggling can feel like admitting that something is wrong with us.
But what if struggling does not mean something is wrong with you? What if you are simply tired, overwhelmed, uncertain or carrying more than you realised?
Behind every research is a person. A person who can be ambitious and exhausted, capable and overwhelmed, making progress and still feeling lost.
Postgraduate study is built around independence. We are expected to think independently, solve problems, manage our time and navigate uncertainty. These are important skills, but somewhere along the way, independence can become isolation. We can start believing that we should be able to handle everything ourselves and that asking for help is somehow a sign that we cannot.
That is where silence begins.
When silence doesn’t mean everything is okay
This year’s World Mental Health Day theme, “Lived experiences heard: real voices, real change,” reminds us that people’s experiences matter and that listening can be a catalyst for change.
But there is an important question behind the theme: What happens when people do not feel able to speak?
Silence does not necessarily mean that everything is fine.
Sometimes it means, I don’t know how to put this into words.
Sometimes it means, I’m afraid people will think less of me.
Sometimes it means, My problem isn’t serious enough.
Sometimes it means, Everyone else seems to be coping. Why can’t I?
And sometimes it simply means, I’m not ready.
For students, the fear of being perceived as incapable can make seeking support particularly difficult. When academic identity is closely tied to achievement, admitting that we are struggling can feel as though we are admitting that we are not capable enough.
But needing support does not erase our capabilities.
A difficult period does not erase our achievements.
And asking for help does not make us less deserving of being here.
You do not have to wait until you are falling apart
Perhaps one of the most important things we can change is the idea that we have to reach breaking point before we are allowed to ask for help.
You don’t.
You do not need a diagnosis. You do not need to have the perfect words. You do not need to prove that your struggles are worse than someone else’s.
You can reach out because you are exhausted. Because you are constantly anxious. Because you cannot concentrate. Because you have lost motivation. Because you feel isolated. Or simply because something does not feel right.
You are allowed to ask for help before things become unbearable.
Seeking help is not an admission of failure. It can simply be an acknowledgement that something deserves attention.
And seeking help does not have to begin with telling everyone everything.
It can begin with one person.
A friend. A colleague. A supervisor you trust. A counsellor. A professional.
It can begin with one sentence:
“I’ve been finding things difficult lately. Can we talk?”
Or:
“I’m not really sure what’s wrong, but I don’t feel like myself.”
Or even:
“I think I need some help.”
You do not need to know exactly what happens next. Sometimes, you just need to take the first step.
When someone finally speaks, listen
Creating a culture of mental health support is not only about encouraging people to speak. It is also about learning how to listen when they do.
When someone says, “I’m struggling,” our instinct may be to reassure them.
You’ll be fine.
Everyone goes through this.
Just take a break.
We say these things because we want to help. But sometimes people do not need us to make their problems disappear. They need someone willing to stay with them in the conversation.
A simple “Thank you for telling me” can be powerful.
So can “That sounds difficult,” or “How can I support you?”
We do not have to be counsellors to care about someone. We do not have to have all the answers. Sometimes, listening without judgement is the first form of support we can offer.
Making help ordinary
If we want to create a healthier postgraduate culture, the responsibility cannot rest entirely on students.
We also need to think about the environments we create around them.
Can a student say, “I’m struggling,” without immediately worrying that someone will question their academic ability?
Do students know where they can go for confidential support?
Do they know they do not have to wait until they are in crisis?
Can seeking help become as ordinary as seeking academic guidance?
These questions matter because wellbeing is not separate from an academic experience. It is part of it.
Behind every thesis is a person. Behind every research project is someone who is learning, growing, failing, trying again and, sometimes, struggling.
And that person matters.
This World Mental Health Day, perhaps the question is not simply, “Who is willing to speak up?”
Perhaps the more important question is:
“What can we do to make it safer for someone to speak?”
If you have been saying “I’m fine” when you know you are not, you do not have to tell everyone. You do not have to explain everything. And you do not have to wait until you are falling apart.
Start somewhere. Start small. Start today.
Talk to someone you trust. Reach out to your university’s counselling unit. Check in on someone who may be struggling. And when someone chooses to tell you that they are not okay, make space to listen.
Because sometimes real change does not begin with a room full of voices.
Sometimes, it begins with one person finding the courage to say:
“I’m not okay. Can we talk?”
And someone choosing to answer:
“Yes. I’m listening.”