Suicide Research: A Joke With No Punchline
"From your publication record, we can see you are an expert in this subject area and we invite you to submit an abstract. Please note that an article processing charge of $5000 applies."
It was good to see Carl, finally. The quintessential absentminded professor, his inbox overflows like a scroll-stuffed catacomb in a budget fantasy series. He’s a hard man to pin down.
“I want to stay in touch please,” he told me before graduation. “If you ever don’t hear back from me, it means your message dropped too far in my inbox for me to get around to it. Keep nudging me.”
Carl was no longer my academic supervisor, but we still managed to schedule a video call once or twice a year between my growing practice and his increasingly demanding academic schedule. “Gentle nudging” had to become “insistent headbutting”, but we made it work. We had plans to research and publish together, and I always had projects to pick his brains about, or a piece to submit that I wanted him to cast an eye over first.
Today, though, something felt a bit different as we drifted towards our goodbyes.
“One last thing, Skye.”
“What’s up, boss?”
“You do realise I’m humouring you with these calls, right? It’s great to catch up, and you’d better ask me first if you ever need a PhD supervisor. But you don’t need my permission or my expertise to carry on doing research work. Trust that you have smart ideas, and that you’re good enough for people to want to work with you, and the rest will fall into place.”
Carl’s a smart man — one of the smartest I’ve ever met — but so far, he’s been dead wrong on that count. The research landscape has changed so much in the past decade that I find myself in the utterly insane position of needing to pay to work if I want to do it.
An Indecent Proposal
Three nights ago, I received the following (abbreviated) email:
Dear Dr. Sclera,
We are currently running a Special Journal Issue focused on psychological resilience to suicidality. From your publication record, we can see you are an expert in this subject area, and so we would like to invite you to contribute some of your research.
Submitted manuscripts should not be under consideration for publication elsewhere. We also encourage authors to send a short abstract or tentative title to the Editorial Office in advance.
Please note that an article processing charge (APC) of $5000 currently applies to all papers accepted after peer review.
We look forward to hearing from you.
No, no you don’t. Believe me. If you hear from me, it’ll be the email equivalent of violent colonic irrigation.
I am not making this up, and I’ve checked over and over to make sure it isn’t a scam. It’s a legitimate journal, with a legitimate publishing company, politely inviting me to pay thousands of dollars to do hundreds of hours of unpaid work.
Now, one could make a couple of reasonable counter-arguments here.
the request came from an open-access journal. Because anybody can read this particular journal for free (there’s no paywall or article purchasing), charging fees to researchers is how they stay in business.
Also, most researchers are paid academics. As part of their salary, they’re expected to do things like this as part of their contract, and the university probably covers the associated costs.
It’s not exactly unheard of for people to do a lot of time-consuming, effortful work which will probably cost them money, either directly or in hours that could have been spent earning an income. Ever heard of writers?
I can appreciate all those points. But how is it that I’m both qualified and motivated to do work that will be of real benefit to people, and I’m struggling to find a way to do it for free, let alone get paid for it?
Other brief side quests in my academic adventures include:
Applying for a share of research funding from one of the professional bodies I belong to, being rejected (hey, it happens) but then finding out that all 12 accepted proposals were related to gender and psychotherapy. Before you call me a TERF or email me a virus or whatnot, please note that I did not make a comment on the value or otherwise of these pieces of research. I haven’t read the methodology or findings, so I really have no idea. What concerns me is the increasing politicisation of research trends. Perhaps there really were no other proposals with enough merit to be included, but I suspect a preference for topical social issues is in play. Depression, anxiety, suicidality, PTSD … it’s not like any of these problems are getting better, but they’re considered more pedestrian concerns. “Not sexy enough,” as they say in media.
Applying for a grant, and being rejected on the grounds that my requested “breakdown of costs” included the amount of money I would need to cover my expenses if I cut down my practice hours to do the research. Apparently it is considered rude (“unorthodox”) to ask for renumeration at minimum wage level so I can continue to feed and clothe myself and my family.
Repeatedly emailing relevant charities to ask if they would consider supporting my research in order to add credibility and help with raising awareness. While people were generally lovely and interested (and I wasn’t seeking any money, just the backing of an authority on suicide, bereavement or trauma) everyone was so busy and stressed it was impossible to get anything off the ground.
I know, I know, this is the system. But I say again: why the hell is it this hard for me to (for example) test the effectiveness of a treatment for people bereaved by suicide, who are now at an alarmingly elevated risk for dying by suicide themselves?
Why are the only paths forward for carrying out research:
Doing a Masters or PhD (may produce effective and valuable research, but also attracts people who care more about the cred of letters after their name than the quality and value of their work).
A career in academia (where scarce roles are fiercely contested, contracts are short, and socially awkward nerds who just want to design studies and analyse data tend to get chewed up and spat out Game of Thrones style).
Accepting commission from a corporation or organisation (with a likely expectation that whatever you find must fit prewritten conclusions).
Side note relevant to (1) and (2) above: I cannot imagine the impossibilities involved in getting research which does not conform to current socially correct attitudes over the line at a university, and this is bad for the collective knowledge of humanity no matter how you vote. Please don’t make assumptions about my politics based on that statement, frankly, it’s irrelevant. I am a person who believes independent thought is sacred in research and that this should not be controversial.
Be the change, and all that
If you’re an academic tempted to write about a smart comment about my naivety or stupidity, or dunk on me for being whiny and ungrateful (and besides it’s just the way things are), just stop and think for a second. This shouldn’t be the way it is, and your first impulse shouldn’t be to snark on the person that’s pointing out the problem.
This is bigger than both of us.
It’s about knowledge humanity doesn’t get to have, which could help keep people alive, because the system makes it really hard for qualified people to take the time and effort required to seek that knowledge. This isn’t just bad for me, it’s bad for everyone.
I don’t have an easy answer to a serious systemic issue that’s probably going to get worse before it gets better. If it ever does.
But still, I’m not big on bitching about something without offering solutions (or at least thinking seriously about alternative possibilities).
I have research that I think would be beneficial to people, and I’m having trouble finding a way to do it.
Essentially, it comes down to time and money. If I can find a way to make extra money, I can afford the time to do it.
Lightbulb.
I’ve never been comfortable about taking payment for Substack subscriptions. Don’t get me wrong, I’m immensely grateful for the support I’ve received, but my decision to paywall content was made pragmatically. Because essentially, Substack exists to make money for the people who created Substack. That’s the thing at the core of the algorithm.
If you’re in a position to make money for Substack you’re going to get more eyeballs, and I want more eyeballs. Because — at least occasionally — I write useful things that people can hopefully use to improve their lives.
I also know I’m not in a position to offer anything besides full article access for my paid subscribers. I lack the charisma for livestreaming, I lack the time to adequately nurture a flourishing subscriber chat, and I write anonymously under a stupid name I made up after one too many apricot hazys. Most ‘value add’ options involve greater access to the author, and that’s simply not something I can offer.
So. Here’s what I’m going to do.
I’m going to use every dollar I make from Substack subscriptions to fund independent psychotherapy research. I’ve transferred everything I’ve received so far into a seperate bank account, and when I start making enough I’m going to find an academic supervisor and start refining my methodology.
I currently have abstracts completed for two projects:
A treatment development study to assist people bereaved by suicide.
An investigation into therapeutic support for sexual assault survivors who disclose to the police.
If you have personal experience of either subject, and you’re open to being interviewed for the purposes of research, please email me at skyesclera@gmail.com and I will keep your details on file.
My areas of experience and interest also include ADHD, addiction, and the use of AI in psychotherapy. If this gets decent traction, I’m looking forward to being able to broaden my focus.
If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading.
If you think there’s some worth in what I’m attempting to do, please spread this far and wide.
And if you’re one of my early subscribers patiently waiting for some more traditional content related to neurodiversity/trauma/creativity/psychotherapy, thank you for your patience and your support. I’ll get there. You know how it is sometimes.
PS: Carl, if you’re reading this, I’m going to need a supervisor if this takes off, so I hope you’ve got better at clearing your inbox. If not, I’ve got a study in mind that might help.
Writing for a Cause
All subscription funds raised by Painting with Lightning go towards funding independent research in psychotherapeutic treatment development. My areas of experience and interest include suicide bereavement, sexual trauma, ADHD, addiction, and the use of AI in psychotherapy.
If you would like a paid subscription but can’t afford one, please email me at skyesclera@gmail.com and I’ll grant you access.
This post was written and edited without the use of AI.