When I finally (as in waiting-until-the-last-round-of-acceptances finally) got an e-mail notification saying that I had been accepted into my top choice university, I think I responded in a way that was pretty normal: I thought to myself, now, everything is going to change.
I mean, that’s probably what most kids were thinking, whether they were planning on heading off to a community college within commuter distance or an out of town (or country) university. From new locations to new friends to the exciting idea of starting your adult life and making steps towards your career, post-secondary is a change, and after spending my entire life in one suburban neighbourhood or another, I was ready for it. Everyone in my life, even the kids who were close to their families or really loved their high school experience, were looking forward to change. After all, change is a normal part of life.
Only, as someone living with mental illness, the “normal” thing rarely works out for me.
Before starting university, everything was going my way- after mulling over which school would be my ideal “second choice”, I was admitted into my dream school, a place well-known for its sense of spirit and community. Unlike my friends, I wasn’t feeling particularly anxious or sentimental towards the small-town life I was leaving behind- I only felt this kind of dulled-down excitement, like this had been too long coming. I remember walking through the downtown core of my university town the night before I moved in, thinking about how many times I would walk down these streets with my newfound best friends, studying in hipster cafes and stumbling drunk into taxis after a night of clubbing. That would be my life for the next four years, I was sure of it. After all, everything was, for the first time in eighteen years, all going my way.
It was the Wednesday of Frosh Week that I realized nothing was going my way.
I was sitting on the curb outside a nightclub, waiting for a taxi and eating a McDonald’s Happy Meal. I wasn’t sad or angry or anything- just kind of annoyed and perplexed by the lunacy of the teen-comedy-esque situation unfolding before me. My new friend, who was also too sober for the thumping music and horrifically childish grinding that we had just abandoned, was sobbing uncontrollably.
After making the regrettable choice to not pre-drink before the all-ages, no alcohol-serving event, she had grabbed my hand less than an hour after we arrived and told me she was ready to go. By the time we were out the door, she was sobbing.
“It’s just- I can’t explain it, it’s just that things are different.”
“It’s just that things are never gonna be the same again,” I finished for her as she ignored international distance charges to call her friend in California.
That’s when it hit me.
I had been so ready to leave every aspect of my life behind- and yet here I was, missing it and feeling completely out of control. My tiny but tightknit main friend group, my ratty high school and its student-made murals, my jogging route winding through the suburbia I’d complained about more than a white boy in a pop-punk song. I still had my friends and could go back home if I wanted to, but things were different. I could never truly live the life I had been accustomed to ever again.
Yes, my high school life was mundane and lackluster, but without realizing it, I had built a kind of support system in the familiarity of it. I had my routines, I had my established friendships, I had my safe spaces. For many people suffering from a wide range of mental illnesses benefit from developing familiar routines and surroundings, and without it I felt completely out of control.
As someone suffering with anxiety and disordered eating (among other things), feeling a loss of control is dangerous.
The next eight months did bring the fun nights, interesting lessons and good friends I’d imagined it would- but somehow things weren’t the way I expected at all. I think most students get demystified by college after being there a few weeks- but for me, things were different. Some of the symptoms I experience cause me to me to have completely unrealistic approaches to the world around me- it’s hard to explain, but I usually feel as though I’m blind or numb to any good things happening around me, but still have completely mystified, glorified ideas of the world, and unlike most people who can remind themselves that these things aren’t accurate (things aren’t as bad or as good as they seem), I can’t separate the rational from the products of this mindset. So, yeah, the demystification hit me hard.
I remember my first night at university- after not meeting a super cool new friend group who I immediately connected with (as though that ever happens within the course of a day), having to play icebreaker activities that involved riding a broomstick (which I embarrassingly could not do because I was wearing a maxi dress), I walked back to my dorm (which was twenty minutes away from the main campus) and didn’t go out partying with the other kids on my floor. I remember standing in the shower after a long, hot day and being unable to work the showerhead in the communal bathroom. Great, I thought, I’ll be showering in cold water for the next eight months of my life. I went to bed sobbing that night, not because I was missing home, but just because nothing felt special anymore, and some part of me felt like I would never get that feeling back. That part of me might be right.
After that, my mental health managed to affect every aspect of my life.
Living with anxiety is tough on a day-to-day basis- but it was awful adjusting to the completely new environment.
When I lived at home, I was used to coming home, eating a snack and watching T.V. or doing schoolwork. Maybe I would go to the gym with my friend, or go to a house party on a weekend, but at university, it was different. It was expected that you go out every night- and for me, it was more than physically exhausting. It left me emotionally exhausted, to the point where I was going out but I just felt empty, unable to make a connection with anyone around me and wishing I was drunk(er) or back at home. Having alone time is essential to everyone’s mental health, regardless of whether they are extroverted or socially anxious, but even when I was alone in my dorm room, the voices and drunken howls were unavoidable. But, on the other hand, the first night I stayed in, I couldn’t shake the anxiety that friends I had made would leave me. They would find a cooler squad or make some new inside jokes and soon enough they would forget me.
So I had to choose between the anxiety of staying in and the depression of constantly going out.
I remember an amazing Frosh Week night where the girls I had gone out with ran into another group we had never met before, and we ended up just sitting on a dorm room floor and talking until 4 a.m. It was exactly what I had wanted and expected out of my university experience. I left the dorm with everyone’s cell phone numbers- even a nice girl I had met on a park bench who told me to text her “anytime”- but my anxiety kept telling me to wait it out, if they wanted to be my friend, they would text me. The days I waited in order to not appear desperate turned into weeks where it now felt too awkward to contact them. I never hung out with them again. I still wonder how many of the dozens of phone numbers that I added in those first couple weeks could have led to amazing friendships.
My depression and anxiety also affected my academics. When I lived at home, I would fight through my depressive episodes just enough to get myself dressed and make it to school, even if I drifted through classes without paying attention and avoided my peers- if only to avoid my mother getting angry at me or drawing more attention to myself through my absence. The newfound independence I had so desperately craved ended up backfiring on me- there was nothing to convince me to get out of bed in the morning, and I would miss lectures and tutorials week after week, just staring at the ceiling, afraid to even walk to the washroom in fear of running into someone on my floor.
I had full access to my university gym, but even during the weeks where I wasn’t holed up in my room, I would spend my classes just longing to be back in my room, alone with Netflix, and often this longing was enough for me to grab the first bus going back to my res than going to the gym or the library (a much quieter study location than my loud residence).
I abandoned self-care completely- I almost never went out, I almost never worked out, I almost never got a good night’s sleep. One of the symptoms of my anxiety is that I struggle to eat in front of others- so I would use my meal plan to buy food at fast food places and restaurants so I could be alone in my room, and I would buy groceries that should have lasted at least a week, but I would binge on them at some point. This, plus my sedentary lifestyle (and a medical condition, which only added to the helplessness of the whole situation) caused my weight to balloon like never before. I’ve lived with eating disorders since age twelve, but before starting school had found myself in a place where I was finally eating “normally” again- and now I was in a place where I felt as though I had no control over my body or life, and it only caused me to stress eat and return to dangerous binge-restrict cycles. Worse yet, my closest friend at school- remember crying nightclub girl?- decided after a heartfelt, tearful conversation to drop out and re-apply to schools closer to home. I obviously supported her choice- I even helped her make it- but it meant that I returned from the Christmas break with a floor I was isolated from and a number of acquaintances I had successfully distanced myself from.
So, I got what I wanted, kind of. I got a year where everything changed.
Now, I’m not writing this in order to scare people with mental illness who are going to be starting post-secondary. I’m writing this because as more people begin sharing stories about their mental health and its impact on their social lives, employment, finances and sense of self, I feel it’s important to discuss this as well.
Honestly, when I look back, I think that I wasn’t just expecting my life to change- I was expecting my brain to as well. I didn’t want to be the black sheep of my friend group anymore, I wanted to leave my scars and my paranoia and my eating disorder in the past. I thought that I could have a fresh, clean start where I wouldn’t be limited by my mental illness anymore. High school me had suffered enough- university is supposed to be where you find yourself and where you start to love life. It was supposed to be where I would make more friends than I’d ever had and have unforgettable experiences.
I think part of the reason things got so complicated for me was because I wasn’t approaching this next chapter of my life as a person with mental illness. I wasn’t anticipating the struggles, I wasn’t accepting the fact that what I was going through was permanent- there was no geographic solution to my problems.
My advice to people starting university who are going through university is to accept and understand the fact that you can’t outrun what you’re going through. I know, you want college or university to be fun and you want to find yourself and you want things to change. But understand that you can only do that with the body and mind you’ve been given- and you have to accept its limitations.
So plan ahead. If you won’t be studying from home, seek student services as soon as you possibly can. Most schools have thousands, if not tens of thousands of students, and oftentimes students can wait for months to see a counsellor or access other services. Book an appointment as soon as you possibly can (it’s free with the student fees you pay at most schools). Try your best to figure out your finances- including spending money and student loans- before move-in day, just to ease a little bit of the anxiety. Don’t be afraid to make plans to come home- so many students want to distance themselves from their “old lives”, but I honestly think that it’s important to ease yourself into your new environment. Even if you had a bad home life, consider visiting a friend at their school, or having them come up for a weekend.
Really consider where you want to go- if you’re about to move across the country, think long and hard about whether or not you feel it’s right for you. Even if you feel totally ready to move on- you’ll probably struggle with the adjustment more than you can expect. Trust me, I was in your shoes. My school is only three hours away from my hometown, and I was completely ready to move, and it was still harder for me than I ever would have guessed.
Start an exercise routine as soon as you can- even if it’s just short, casual walks around your campus between lectures. If you will be buying groceries or can choose between meal plans, try choosing a plan that will deter the overeating that too many first year students fall into, but will still allow you to eat a healthy amount. Even during your busy Orientation Week, make sure you sleep, even if it’s only a cat nap between activities. If you feel as though your mental illness will have a negative impact on your academics, make an appointment with your school’s disability office right away. They can help you to find accommodations that can help prevent mental illness from compromising your performance.
Try and stay self-aware of whether or not you’re partying too much- or too dangerously- and if you feel as though anxiety or insecurities will make you do things you’ll regret, it’s fine to stay in. Seriously, it is. You’ll feel like you’ve missed out on the best night ever for a day, but then the next Best-Night-Ever will happen and everyone will forget about whatever you missed out on. Be safe at parties- it’s a tragic and unfortunate reality that there are people on your own campus who would be willing to do the unthinkable- and while it’s unfair, you are able to take precautions to minimize your risk. Call home sometimes. FaceTime with the best friends you left behind. If you’re just laying in bed on a Saturday morning, get a head start on that essay you know will be stressing you out a week from now. Don’t feel the pressure to go out every night. Actually join a club- so many people say they will and never end up doing it, but if you’re feeling lost, being able to do something you’re interested in at least once a week can help. Don’t stress over your friend who has the part-time job or found the love of her life or has a 4.0 GPA. Just focus on you. Find someone to talk to, whether it’s a new friend or one back at home. Understand what I couldn’t- that it’s never too late to make friends, and that, yes, you are allowed to start the conversation.
For me, I’m just trying to make sure my second year will be better than my first. That means a lot of diligence, a lot of awareness, and lots of thought concerning my program and my living arrangements for next year. Once again, I want things to change- but this time, I’m focusing more on how I can change my situation, and less about how it can change me.
