How do you tell your friends and loved ones this holiday season that you suffered through your first semester of university? The truth is, I have no good answers, because this is still something I struggle with personally. I find it difficult to be vulnerable and say that my emotional needs are not being met when communicating with my parents, especially. However, to you, quite possibly frightened first-year student, I will give my best advice.
I follow UVic Confessions and Crushes on Facebook, and I read many posts about people struggling to make friends while coping with a mental illness in the midst of school work and projects. If that is something you can relate to, I am so sorry you are suffering through that. I am so deeply sorry because I felt the crushing fear of rejection and crippling effects of anxiety throughout my first year at UVic. I am still at UVic, though, and I made the most amazing, caring and thoughtful friends here, despite my mind whispering things like, “Nobody likes you. You’ll never make any good friends.” I am still in my program, despite cruel thoughts like, “You’re pathetic. You’re going to drop out.” In my case, my situation got better. I don’t pretend to speak to everyone’s experience, but usually it does get better.
One year ago, when I was in my lowest possible place, I went home for the holidays. I was glad to be home. It felt safer there—more familiar. The winding streets, the thick fir trees, the long wavy beaches with a fresh salty scent, and the odd people at every corner never seemed to change. At UVic, everything was brand new constantly and I was always alert and overwhelmed by any change in the environment. Whether that change be a new person in my residence lounge or a change in routine in a lab report, everything was frightening. I have a secret: I didn’t tell my parents that I was experiencing severe anxiety. I didn’t tell them I was crying through the night, dampening my pillow, or that I was struggling to pull myself out of bed and forcing myself to attend lecture, where my terrified, hyperspeed brain would mist over in a fog of negative thought.
I was a master of pretending to be okay, but I was not by any means okay. I smiled at family dinners and told my family what an amazing time I was having at university. I should have won an award for my performance. People with hidden illnesses know all too well what I’m talking about. It’s the dance of pretending you’re fine while simultaneously combusting on the inside from the sheer weight of the darkness and not wishing to make anyone uncomfortable, or worse, having them invalidate your experience.
I would do it differently if I could go back in time because, if I had been brave enough to be vulnerable with my parents, I would have shifted the entire trajectory of my second semester. I know if my parents had known the magnitude of my pain, they would have helped. The difference in second semester would have been that I would have felt supported and loved, despite what I was experiencing. I would also have received mental health support that I did not get from UVic Health Services (called out, sorry not sorry).
I went to UVic Health Services asking for help with my anxiety and depression multiple times. Each time, I was told that, essentially, because I was somewhat functional and because my state had not escalated into a state of emergency, that I was fine. I could go check in with the counsellors at UVic once every two months because that’s all they could fit in. I should try going for walks more, even though I already did that every other day, as well as going to the gym and practicing yoga. The dismissal of my mental health issues left me feeling invalidated and entirely alone in my experience. I didn’t know what to do because everyone says to ask for help from professionals. What do you do when the professionals insist that you’re fine, even though you feel a heavy burden on your chest dragging you into the depths of the earth? I kept seeking help and instantly colliding with brick walls, leaving me disorientated and trapped.
I know not everyone has the option of receiving emotional, let alone financial support from their parents to deal with their mental health. So like I said, I have no good advice. There is a mental health crisis in our generation and it’s not being addressed. I will end with this: if you struggled through your first semester, please tell someone you love and trust over the holidays. If you tell one person, you won’t be bearing the burden alone, and that will at least make you feel a little bit better. It’s a shockingly normal experience to have a shitty first semester, despite how the media glorifies our first years of university as being the best times in our lives. Don’t feel ashamed, or as if you have fallen short if it isn’t the best year of your life. You have so many wonderful years ahead of you, so many sweet kisses, belly laughs, and wide smiles to come. So please don’t give up. I know it’s hard, but you’ve come this far. You are an amazing warrior. You are incredible. It will get better with time, even if it seems like the end.
Mental Health Resources:
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Vancouver Island Crisis Line: 1-888-494-3888
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Crisis Text Line: 250-800-3806
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UVic Counselling Services: 250-721-8341
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UVic Health Services: 250-721-6224