Disentangling the Self from the Laboratory
ALKA
Illustration by Ipshita
I have always wanted to be a scientist from my childhood, and in that process, I built a whole system around me as a result of which my personal life and lab life got wholly intertwined.
I habitually break down complex things into simpler forms and then look at them from afar. Whenever I would do imaging in the darkroom and see those cells in 2D, I would feel trapped in the tendency to do things in a linear fashion, avoiding complexities. Even though these skills directly help my functioning well in the laboratory, especially when analysing results, I was afraid of these tendencies within me and unsure about whether this was a personality trait or a result of my forced two-dimensional, linear thinking due to my academic background in science and life in the lab.
Before becoming a cancer bioengineer, I trained as a microbiologist. I caught tuberculosis at that time, and I began fearing the outside world for my illness, leading to me developing severe Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) as a self-defence mechanism. I believe that it is this OCD that assisted me in handling the cells in a highly efficient manner when I first began working in tissue culture labs. I began exercising my controlling behaviour more confidently because I was proud that it made me efficient. However, this soon posed problems in my personal life, to the point that I couldn’t sit restfully in my own room, seeing everything around me as a possible infectious agent or threat.
I began getting therapy because of my tiresome behaviour. I found myself picking a word and sticking with it, which helped me construct a linear world to shield myself from intense emotions and human complexity, continually trying to be flawless and skilled to protect my body from danger, and constantly using facts to support my actions (because in science we can't comment on anything without justification). I don't know what else I will learn in the future. All these defence systems became ways for me to protect myself.
The defense mechanisms I built around myself to cope with being overwhelmed— routines, structure, and emotional detachment—seemed to fit seamlessly into lab life. Over time, it felt like my personal life and lab life were two parts of the same system, so intertwined that one couldn’t exist without the other. Now, as I try to step away from this automated system and distinguish personal life from lab life, it feels terrifying. My personal life, which was once shaped by lab experiences, feels empty without them.
Illustrations by Ipshita
I find myself questioning: Do I even know how to live beyond the lab? What does a "me" without the lab even look like? When I work in the lab, I experience distant, disconnected feelings, making it very difficult to work with the same focus or purpose I once had. At the same time when I step out of the lab, I again feel overwhelmed and more terrified, as though I’m stepping into uncharted territory without a guide. It’s as if I’m leaving behind an identity I’ve relied on for so long, and now I’m unsure of who I am or how to move forward.
About Alka
Alka Kumari (they/them), a non-binary, queer individual on the spectrum, finds joy in the kitchen and exploring the world on foot. They are currently pursuing a PhD at IISc.
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