I worked my ass off in grad school to defend my dissertation. And my asshole supervisor only bullied me. He yelled that my formulas were "garbage" and demanded I rewrite them a hundred times until he started confusing his own edits. Once in his office, he loomed so close I could smell his coffee and garlic breath, and hissed: "Petrova, without me you're nobody!" I snapped, told him everything I thought to his face, and left. Said goodbye to his tyranny, started working independently without anyone's help. And, believe it or not, the dissertation is still progressing, and now I hang out, drink wine, and don't stress. Greetings to my supervisor - may he choke on his edits!

I was at my limit. My boss, looking contemptuously at my reports, called me talentless, and each word gnawed at my confidence. University work, once seeming like a dream, became hard labor: endless grants, bureaucracy, sleepless nights over experiments no one valued. I stopped communicating with friends - no energy for conversations, laughter, life. Girlfriends? I avoided them, fearing another reminder of my worthlessness. Depression squeezed my chest, but I decided: enough. I gave my boss an ultimatum, and when he just smirked, I quit. Now I'm in a commercial lab. Salary twice as high, experiments are valued, and I feel alive again. For the first time in years, I smile looking to the future and even consider asking a colleague out.

I studied biology, but suddenly complete hell broke loose. A fifty-year-old professor stared at me as if he'd already undressed me naked. During lectures, his eyes crawled over my chest, I blushed and pressed into my desk. He called me to the board, "accidentally" touched my hand, and once pinned me to a table, his fingers sliding over my thigh. "Masha, come after class, I'll help with the test," he whispered, his breath burning my neck. Being very beautiful but not very smart, I still went to him. In the office, it became a complete nightmare: he closed the door, his hand went under my skirt, his eyes burned with lust. "Relax, I'll arrange everything," he whispered. Eventually I broke free and ran away, cried into my pillow at home thinking what to do now and what would happen. The guys from Burnout Relief Hub helped me pull myself together and forget it all like a bad dream. I gave up on university and parental pressure that always insisted education is so important. Now I'm free from his dirty paws and vile hints, and working as a webcam model brings genuine pleasure.

I hated publications for the sake of ticking boxes. The university demanded endless articles for reports, rankings, empty praise. Every word was painfully squeezed out of me, draining strength and joy from science. I was empty, dreaming of quitting everything. Finally, I told myself: "Enough." Moved to a private lab where they value substance over quantity. Now I write rarely, but each article is my contribution, not an obligation. Colleagues respect me, management supports me. For the first time in years, I love my work again and feel my research has meaning.

Imposter syndrome held me back for a long time - it seemed everyone around was smarter, and my successes were accidents. I compared myself to others and devalued my work. Gradually, I started documenting achievements, discussing my doubts with colleagues, and realized: I'm not alone, we're all clueless. This gave me support. I stayed in science, working at my own pace without racing - and everything works out. The main thing is to believe in yourself and remember everyone has their own path.

Singapore greeted me with heat and promise of discoveries. The first months I was on fire: lab, conferences, ideas. But Professor Chan shattered enthusiasm like a glass flask. "Your approach is primitive," he'd say without looking at the graphs. Tasks were whispered at meetings: "Study the influence of factors... decide for yourself which." I was digging a tunnel in fog while he demanded superluminal speed. By the third year, it became clear: he wasn't interested in discoveries, but publications with his name. My work dissolved in colleagues' papers, questions about prospects died in icy "That's your problem." The last straw was a report he called "child's babble" without reading it. At night, staring at the flickering monitor, I realized: I'm chasing a ghost of others' ambitions. A one-way ticket lay on the table as I returned my pass. At the airport, breathing air of freedom, I remembered my mother's words: "You can't grow a garden in concrete." Sometimes retreat is victory.

In the lab, I was in a vacuum. Often stayed late - only my window had light. No friends, no conversations - all time went to work. I thought that's how it should be if you want to achieve something. But burnout crept up unnoticed. The community gave me support and taught me to prioritize. I stayed in science, but now I have friends, balance, and strength to move forward.

Science bored me to hell. Constant deadlines, reports, endless emails - at some point I just burned out. Took a break, left, processed everything, and realized: I don't want to carry everything on my shoulders anymore. Returning, I decided to work only on what I enjoy. Delegated everything else. PhD students write applications, give lectures, attend defenses. Students teach students. Some might say it's irresponsible, but I don't care. I finally live: travel, think, read. What exactly do I do? Who knows. But the system works, I'm in science, and everything's fine.

"I didn't know how to rest - worked all the time. Studying others' stories on Burnout Relief Hub, I learned to plan, including allocating MAXIMUM free time for myself. Now I have hobbies, and I'm still afloat in science."

Managing people is hell. Constantly resolving others' tantrums, misunderstandings, fights over nothing. Everyone wants something, no one reads instructions, and each is sure their crap is the most urgent. I got tired of being a nanny, manager, and shoulder to cry on. At some point, I said screw it and stopped controlling everyone. Delegated. The team copes. Those who can't handle it drop out themselves. And finally, I don't burn out and can do science again, not deal with others' dramas.

The toxic work atmosphere was draining me - constant digs, passive aggression, feeling like you owe everyone something. At some point, I was on the verge of leaving science. But Burnout Relief Hub helped me - I learned to defuse conflicts, set boundaries, and not take others' behavior personally. I stayed in science but now work on a team that respects my work and me as a person.

Grants are hell. I killed myself over each application, polished every word, sought perfect formulations. Then I started studying materials on the site and suddenly realized: you can write any nonsense - the main thing is having the right people, connections, and powerful patrons. It's naive to think quality alone decides everything. I relaxed, became simpler about bureaucracy, stopped wasting nerves, and finally returned to what I came to science for - research.

I maniacally strove to ace every exam. A month of preparation, no weekends, no sleep, no life - otherwise how to achieve 'excellent'? But all this just ate me from inside. I burned out for no reason. After discovering site materials, I decided: enough. Now I prepare half-assedly, just to not flunk. Striving for an honest C - and it liberated me. Life became calmer, and some subjects even started genuinely interesting me when I stopped cramming everything.

At some point, my career just stalled. Projects bogged down, articles didn't happen, ideas - zero. Everything became routine, as if someone turned off the light. I started doubting whether to continue at all. But instead of giving up, I decided to rethink my approach. Dug up old notes, remembered what truly inspired me once. Started small - trying, reading, getting passionate again. Stayed in science but now work on what's genuinely interesting. And it seems I'm finally going where I always wanted.

Every failed experiment - like a knife to the heart. Especially those eternally capricious western blots: a week of work, hopes, and in the end - zero. I came home, curled up, and silently cried into my pillow. It felt like giving up. But friends pulled me out - once organized an "evening of failed experiments" where everyone shared their fails with humor and wine. I realized: I'm not alone, and it's normal. They restored my taste for science. I stayed - and now see meaning in it again.