Fine

TW: Eating disorder, bulimia and binge eating 

Linda shares the first poem she ever wrote exploring her issues with food.

- Linda

I have struggled with food for as long as I can remember. As a child, I struggled with binge eating and when I started University, I developed bulimia non-purging. The hardest part of having an eating disorder is telling people. After I developed bulimia, I felt like I needed to. I did not want to be invited out to eat. I did not want to talk about food, dieting, weight and exercise. For many people, these are topics that you do not bat an eyelid about – therefore, asking people “please can we not talk about x” felt unreasonable. 

I struggled with explaining my eating disorder to other people. Many people found it hard to imagine me restricting or excessively exercising as I was always at a “healthy” or overweight BMI. People did not to grasp that my eating disorder is less about food and how I looked, but more about control and trauma. It is completely understandable – it is hard to picture something that you have not experienced. Still, I sometimes felt a bit misunderstood, weird and isolated.

One of the ways that I can explore my issues around food is through poetry. I seem to perfectly sum up how I feel where spoken words fail me. This is the first poem that I wrote about my issues around food. I wrote it at around the age of sixteen reflecting back on my childhood experience with binge eating.

 

I am obviously FINE!

Not a care in the world.

After all, I am smiling,

laughing hysterically, joking

and quite literally bouncing around,

putting on a good show for the crowd.

 

Act over, curtains closed

and in the darkness,

I wipe off my smile because secretly,

I am dying. In silence. Within.

My mind wages war persistently –

it demands ‘MORE, MORE, MORE!”

and like a servant, I oblige.

I reason – or rather more, I don’t –

that I can fill the deep dark hole

residing in me with food

 

But it’s no good; I never feel whole

because I’m perpetually starving! Craving

a self-acceptance, respect and unconditional love

that can never come from food

and that I can never muster enough of

You can visit Student Space to explore online resources, access direct support via text, phone, web chat or email and find the support available at your place of study. 

I am Linda. I am currently studying a MSc at the University of Warwick. I am also a sub-editor for Student Minds. 

Solitude, my old friend

Ritisha shares her poem about battling isolation during the coronavirus pandemic.

- Ritisha

The coronavirus pandemic has been dire to wellbeing. We have been forced to shut ourselves away and stopped from socializing and meeting our friends and family. Despite these hurdles, instead of drowning in despair, we can rise up to the challenge by becoming friends with ourselves and loving ourselves.

Hello solitude, my old friend

I have come to talk with you again

Because the corona is softly creeping,

has left its seeds whilst the world was sleeping

And when the world woke up insane

We were left alone with our pain.

 

Hello solitude do you know

That like a cancer, corona grows,

Although we see all the suffering

And the sound of silence is now deafening,

You, always by my side

Gives me hope that everything will be alright.  

 

As you say, “hear my words that I might teach you

Take my arms that I might reach you.”

And as people we bow and pray

To our God that night and day

You hold my hand to show me a way;  

That the future might be bright someday.

Visit Student Space for further support with your mental health or emotional wellbeing. 

I am Ritisha, I study in India in Amity International school. I love writing because I feel I can express myself better through writing. I feel all my anxiety and worries wash away from me when I write.

Let's Talk About BAME Mental Health: My Experience as a Third Culture Kid

Linda talks about her experience struggling with her cultural identity.

- Linda

I was born and raised in London. My childhood was an amalgamation of Nigerian and British culture. My parents would speak Yoruba and I responded in English. I’d have jollof rice for breakfast and pizza for dinner. However, I know that there are some who just identify me as a “second generation immigrant.” It does not matter that I speak English more fluently than Yoruba or that the most time I have spent in Nigeria was two and a half months. I am an immigrant. Similarly, in Nigeria, I am seen as a British girl despite the fact that I can understand everything that my relatives are saying. It does not matter that I wear my Nigerian clothing and that I can cook most dishes. 

When I started University, I had quite an identity crisis. People thought I was somewhat exotic. Many people had never met a black person before and they were curious. People wanted to know how I got my hair done. My name, which had never caused much difficulty before, started to feel quite awkward. There were many questions like ‘is there a shorter version for your name?’ and ‘is there something else that I can call you?’ It was a bit of a double whammy. I was also struggling with an eating disorder; I hated my body and wanted to hide away. However, I constantly found myself in the centre of attention and it felt negative. In many ways, I felt like I had to work harder on not being seen and so I relied more on negative coping mechanisms to deal with things. I don’t think struggling with my cultural identity caused my mental health problems, but at points, that struggle certainly made my mental health worse. 

I have now reconciled my cultural identity. The pivotal moment for me was when I learned to take everything in my stride. I have beautiful black skin and that’s not something that I can hide away. I answer questions that people are genuinely curious about – though I do not entertain anything that is malicious. I am trying to improve speaking in Yoruba and English grammar. Now, I recognise that culture isn’t a homogenous concept. It is influenced by generation, relationships, experiences and much more! I am not the perfect archetype of someone who is Nigerian or British, but I doubt that anyone is really. In recent years, there is more of a recognition of people who grow up outside of their country of nationality – third culture individuals. TED Talks like this one have helped me come to terms with my identity and I would highly recommend this video to anyone who is interested in learning more about experiences like mine. Have a look at this brilliant Ted X talk.

To learn more about the individual and societal challenges facing members of BAME communities, check out this resource compiled by the Mental Health Foundation. 

 

I am Linda. I did a BSc in Psychology at the University of Warwick and now I am studying a MSc in Psychological research and working part-time. 

Mental Health as a BAME Student

This person remembers the day they told their mother that they struggle with their mental health and shares their experience of dealing with the stigma around mental health problems. 

- Anonymous

Disclosing to my mum

It is a snap decision. Today is the day. I shiver as I pick up my mug and coffee splashes everywhere. I wipe the split coffee with a tissue and stutter an apology to my therapy group. Time drags by slowly and with every second, the anxiety stewing inside of me grows. During the break, shaking, I pick up my phone and dart outside. I wobble as I dial my mum’s phone number and wait for her to pick up. No response… I breathe a sigh of relieve—the universe has spoken, and this isn’t the right time at all. I start to head back inside… my phone rings. Mum. Crap!

—“Um, I need to tell you something mum,” I mutter.

—“What is it?” she asks.

—“Mum, I have an eating disorder. And – and – and, I am on antidepressants and I started therapy two months ago...” I blurt.

My mum asks me what an eating disorder is, and I explain. I tell her about all my secret behaviours; the compulsive exercising and restriction. She listens and tells me that antidepressants are not good; “they make people crazy”. Then she prays that I get better soon. I thank her and cut off.

…One and a half years later...

We haven’t talked about it since. However, she points out my weight gain; apparently, I should exercise more when I am at university and eat fewer fatty foods. It hurts. It almost destabilised my recovery.

I sometimes get angry at my situation. Since the age of ten, something has felt “wrong.” I spent my childhood lost in a dark place. It should have been picked up. I should have felt able to open up about my emotions. I should have had therapy. I was let down.

However, I do not blame my mother. She was born in West Africa. She was raised in abject poverty and famine. Her childhood was walking several miles to school in battered shoes; selling food at the local market and looking after her many siblings. She starved and had to make many sacrifices. Her life was hard, but she survived. On the other hand, growing up, I had food, water and shelter. I was British and “spoilt.” What did I have to complain about in comparison? What did I have to be sad about?

Fighting mental health stigma

To my mum, my struggle with mental health problems was not a “real” issue, but rather an exaggeration and attention-seeking. My parents hold stigmatising views of mental illness. They use the category “hysterical women” and describe mental illness as “possession by evil spirits and devils”. They label misbehaving children, people with learning disabilities and quite frankly, anyone who deviates from societal norms as “crazy”.

Recently, the perception of mental health is shifting among my parents’ communities. There has been more acknowledgement that mental health conditions are “real.” Research into mental health and people’s perceptions of mental health is also growing in their countries of birth. In fact, following the traumatic kidnapping of the schoolgirls by Boku Haram, some girls who escaped were given therapy. However, society as a whole is still fighting stigma related to mental health problems. Amongst some of the older generation, people with mental health problems are still labelled as “attention-seeking” and “crazy”. Such stigma creates additional barriers for me and many other young people to receive much-needed supports from their close family.

It is so difficult pretending that I am “good”, when actually, I am having panic attacks every day. It is hard being torn between the need to gain understanding from my parents and the reality of hiding my anti-depressants from my parents. I get frustrated when my parents make comments about how I am getting anxious or crying over very small things. Regardless, I try to educate my parents about mental health. I explain the pressures that young people face and that my anti-depressants actually stabilise me. I insist that struggling with my mental health does not mean I am weak. And I think, little by little, the message is sinking in.

To learn more about the individual and societal challenges facing members of BAME communities, check out this resource compiled by the Mental Health Foundation. 

Information about support for you is available on the Student Minds website. 

My Life as a 'Student of Colour'

Nkasi shares her experiences of being a 'student of colour' and having depression, and shares some tips she’s learnt along the way.

- Nkasi Stoll

People would always say to me “university is the BEST years of your life!! You meet so many people and make lifelong friends and gain new experiences, and have so much fun!!!…”. Meanwhile I spent freshers’ week locked away in my room paralysed by anxiety, depression and suicidal thoughts. The first time I left my room was on day two and it took me hours to work up the courage. 

Once I was outside it didn’t get any better - I still felt trapped. This made every task … walking, cooking, cleaning, eating, listening, reading, writing … incredibly tiring. Nevertheless, in my second year I took on a job where I worked over 40 hours. I would wake up at 5am, go to work, go to lectures, go back to work, go clubbing, go to sleep for a couple of hours and wake up again at 5am to go back to work. I barely ate and barely slept. I didn't need the money; I needed to escape from depression and getting black out drunk was the only time I felt that I had peace. When it came to attending my lectures and seminars my thoughts came with me. It didn’t help that out of 200 people on my course there must have been about 4 other black students. I encountered varying degrees of racism on a day to day, from daily micro-aggressions, being called “exotic” (more often than I can count), to being told by a fellow student that I probably got into my course to meet a “race quota”. I struggled to find friends who I could be myself around. Not only did I feel I had to put on a mask to cover my mental illness, as a black woman from a single income family, I also had to find ways to make myself palatable and 'blend in' with the other students. It was mentally and physically exhausting. 

I came into university an A*/A student and by the end of the three years I felt exhausted and broken and just relieved to have graduated with a (very low) 2:1. During the two years after graduating university I continued to try and pretend that I was okay.

It wasn’t until my relationship with my boyfriend at the time broke down and I almost lost my job that I started to accept that I needed help. After 10 years of struggling alone I got the support, help, and love I needed. Two years after my undergraduate degree I graduated from my master’s degree with a high 1st. Fast forward another two years and I have received a full scholarship to study a PhD looking into the ethnic differences in student mental health.

The more open I became about my depression and anxiety, the more I learnt that my journey is not uncommon. University can be an extremely difficult and traumatic time for many of us and there is no reason why we should have to struggle alone. 

4 things I wish I could tell myself during freshers’ week: 

1. University will NOT necessarily be the best three years of your life, and that’s okay. Life exists outside of university. 

2. Find an academic mentor who looks like you and can understand you. You can learn a lot and get help in dealing with personal and academic issues.

3. You deserve to get help. Talk to a friend, family member, university counsellor and say the words “I am really struggling, I need help please”. Life will get better. 

4. Find a community. If one does not exist, create one.

You can find more support here

Hi! i’m Nkasi. I start my PhD soon at King’s College London, looking at ethnic differences in the mental health of university students. I experienced mental illness during my undergraduate and master’s degree and currently struggle with depression, anxiety, and pre-menstrual dysphoric disorder. I am passionate about bringing people like me together to share our experiences and help cope  with university life which is why I have set up a project called ‘The Student of Colour Collective’ which will officially launch in September 2019.