Finding my way back: returning to university (part two)

This is part two of Natasha's experience with coping with mental health at university. To read part one, where Natasha discusses dropping out of university and dealing with grief, click here.

- Natasha

Unlike before, I no longer had education to throw myself into, so I found a job that was a 30-minute drive away, with hours from 10am-10pm five days a week. And it helped to a degree – it forced me out of myself, and I learned to communicate with people again. It was not until the pandemic hit in March 2020 and I was furloughed, that I realised I had nothing other to do than talk about my feelings. I found someone professional and over a year later I still speak to her regularly. 

Lockdown brought its own challenges. I was separated from my family and my boyfriend, but it also gave me time that I had never had before. I read for pleasure for the first time in years and I did an online course on Mental Health as I wanted to understand what was happening to my brain. Plus, I missed learning. My goal was to return to university and finish my degree. I worked so hard to get there and felt I needed to prove it to myself. My mum always described me as having a core of steel; I never believed her, but I knew returning to university might prove that I was worthy of the compliment.

September 2020 came around, almost a year since I dropped out and I was returning for my second attempt at Second Year. But it was not how I planned; I signed a contract to rent a studio back in February because I knew living with strangers would be too much for me. However, COVID completely reshaped what the university experience was going to be. One week before leaving home I was told my degree was online. I felt like all my hard work was wasted. COVID was stopping me from meeting ‘my people’. 

I remember reading for my first seminar and all I could think was ‘how on earth did I manage this?’. No wonder I crashed so hard. It was soon time for me to submit my first essay and I was frantic. I had always measured my worth on my academic achievements, but this was something I did not worked on in therapy. My results came in and I got a high 2:1, only a few marks off a 1st and I was disappointed. My perfectionism was still a very big part of me. However, this time, I took a step back and thought “actually, I just did that after a year out, that is pretty cool!”. I started to believe I had it in me. I knew that my mind would cause me to doubt myself, but I realised that I did not always need to listen to it.
 

I decided to apply for placements. My dream was always to do a year abroad, but that could not be guaranteed because of COVID so I decided on a placement. I wrote application after application, and completed so many aptitude tests. I still remember receiving my first email offering an interview – I ran down the stairs and just screamed to my mum! I could not believe a company wanted to meet me. The night before my first interview I could not stop panicking, I felt like a fraud because I did not include my year out of university on my CV or Cover Letter. I was terrified of being rejected once I explained the gap in my CV. In the end, the interview was not successful, as they asked about the gap and I lied. I tried to present as someone else, someone I did not recognise at all. Safe to say I was not offered the job.

A second interview request came through and for the first two minutes I was overjoyed, then the doubt set in, and I was terrified. To my horror it was not only an interview: I had to give a 15-minute presentation to approximately 15 people (not what I was expecting). I made the presentation and the night before I practiced on my mum, but could not get past the introduction. I broke down and refused to do the interview, I was going to back out. I thought the company was going to think “What a waste of our time” and “was there a mistake? Did we send the email to the wrong person?”. 

The next morning I knew I would regret not trying, so I did the presentation and interview. They asked what my biggest personal achievement was and in a split second I decided not to lie. I told them. I told them that my biggest achievement was realising I needed to leave university and get help, and that my second biggest achievement was returning. Two hours later they offered me the job and my response was, “Me? Why? Are you sure?”.

Last month I finished my second year. Finding the motivation to complete the work has been painfully difficult, especially as COVID meant there was no respite, no chance to relax and escape. But I did it. It took me two years, but I finally completed second year and got offered an incredible placement opportunity. Now (some of the time) I believe my mum when she says I have a core of steel. 

Do not get me wrong, I still have periods where I struggle. Days where my depression takes over and I sleep the day away, but now I am better equipped to deal with it. Some days I wake up and think, “no, I need the day to myself, that job and assignment will have to wait”. Instead of the 4 years I thought it would take to complete my degree, it will take me 5. That was a thought I hated when I first left university. But now I just think, “what is the rush?”. This is my life; it does not have to be on the same timescale as the people I went to school with.

To those students struggling, who feel alone and trapped in their mind, I want to say that your mental health does not have to stop you from being who you want to be. Sometimes it can even make you a better version of yourself. It just means that you are unique and that is nothing to be ashamed of. It has taken me 18 months to acknowledge that, and writing this blog to truly help me realise it.

Click here for help with your mental health, whether related to University or not. You can also get advice on applying for jobs on Student Space.

 

Hi, I’m Natasha, an undergraduate studying History at the University of Southampton. I have struggled with knowing where I fit in the world and what brings me joy, but since embracing my mental health struggles I have discovered that I love to read (mainly historical fiction), draw and talk honestly about mental health.

Understanding my mental health: Leaving university (part one)

This is part one of Natasha's experience with coping with mental health at university. After a year, Natasha realised she needed to leave university to understand how to live with her mental health struggles.

- Natasha

 

In October 2019 I did something I never thought that I would do - I dropped out of university. Up to that point I was driven by education, I lived and breathed it, probably too much. I had always wanted to go to university; it did not matter what degree I did, as long as I got there. Then here I was dropping out and thinking I failed, thinking, “how did I let this happen?”. I have lived with depression probably since I was 13 years old, although I did not understand what depression was until I was 15 years old, and a GP did not prescribe any anti-depressants until I was about 17 years old. I always asked myself: “What is wrong with me?”. My first year of university was probably the period where I asked myself that question the most, I would guess about 5 times a day. What is wrong with me? Why do I not fit in? Why can’t I open my door? Why can’t I stand the taste of alcohol? Why do nightclubs induce panic attacks? Why does socialising with my flatmates in the kitchen exhaust me? What is wrong with me? 

 

I worked so hard. University was going to be my big fresh start – meet ‘my people’ and live. So why couldn’t I do it? I got onto the course I loved, but I hated university. Again, the thought of ‘what is wrong with me?’ ran through my head. The stereotypical freshers drink, party, make lifelong friends and repeat. But this was not my experience and I only recently discovered that very few students actually experience university that way. My experience consisted of isolation, increased anxiety, and grief. In December 2018 I lost one of the most important people to me, my grandad. Peter Smith. We shared so much. I got my love of education from him. Despite the odds, he was the only one in his family to get into Grammar School and he went on to tutor those who struggled, including me. My family descended on my grandparent’s home for six weeks and we all cared for him, so when it was time to leave that bubble I did not recognise a world without him, or know how to navigate it. I had never experienced grief, so I dealt with it by putting all my energy into university and I got my first ever ‘1st’. A few months after I was about to do something pretty major for me: I was going on a trip to Krakow with people from my course. Major! Five days of socialising all day and night (nightclubs were on the itinerary) with nowhere for me to escape to and breathe. But suddenly it felt like Fate intervened; I was involved in a minor car accident and developed concussion and whiplash which meant bye-bye Krakow. Goodbye to my chance to actually experience university for what I felt was the first time. 

 

My depression was the worst it had been and this time my body physically reacted to it. My body started to reject food and two years later I still cannot eat a Dairy Milk bar without my body hating me. I dreaded the idea of returning to university. I was not sure about the house I had agreed to live in (with six others), and so far university was not working for me. But I would not let myself quit. I got to a place so many people fought for, and an opportunity not available to all. I had to be grateful, I could not waste it. I could not be ungrateful for the opportunity I had. I had lived with depression and anxiety for years and still managed to function, so I felt this would be no different. I moved into the house and the isolation set in. In a house of six people I had never felt so alone. I could not bear going to lectures or seminars, I turned off my lights and pretended I was going to socials. I got a job to avoid being in the house, but I actually only managed three shifts and had panic attacks before and after. Every night I either called, my mum, sister, or my boyfriend – for the first time I was scared of my depression. It had never controlled me like this. For the first time my depression and anxiety was crippling me. Three weeks into my second year myself, my family and the university realised it was not safe for me to stay, so I gave in (or that is what it felt like) to my mental health and left within the space of three days. I slept for the next two months and refused to go to therapy. I simply was not ready. I hid at home and told no one that I had suspended my degree, I was so ashamed of my ‘failure’. I had no idea how to navigate or understand my mental health. How do you address something you have tried to ignore for years?

Click here for help with your mental health, whether related to University or not. You can also learn more about loss and how you can support yourself through it on Student Space.

Hi, I’m Natasha, an undergraduate studying History at the University of Southampton. I have struggled with knowing where I fit in the world and what brings me joy, but since embracing my mental health struggles I have discovered that I love to read (mainly historical fiction), draw and talk honestly about mental health.

‘Love you all the world’ - Dealing with losing a parent

*Trigger warning* This blog talks about grief and discusses suicide which we understand can be upsetting.

Lucy shares how she dealt with losing her Mum nearly 12 months on from her death.

- Lucy Moore 

April 2020 will always be a time that haunts me, and I will forever dread April that comes around for the rest of my life. This was the time I lost my beautiful Mum when she took her life. Although I was so incredibly angry and hurt at first, this nearly past year I’ve learnt to accept my emotions and change that anger into a more deep-rooted love for my Mum. 

Mum was known for her infectious laugh and her biggest grin that could light up any room! She’d give the biggest hugs which would leave you flushing; she’d always squeeze your hand so tightly when she knew you were upset or struggling, and then remind you how she ‘love[d] you all the world’. 

Mine and my siblings' lives were thrown upside down and all around: a new environment to live in, new routines, having to explain to people what had happened. We waited nearly two months for the funeral because of the backlog from coronavirus. I was certain that I would read her eulogy out. The day of the funeral came, and even though I was there in a pit of tears, makeup everywhere, I made sure I got up and read it – for my Mum, for my brother and sister, for my family and also for me. It’s one of my proudest moments. 

The months processing my grief were hard and turbulent. After almost a year has passed, I am in no way saying I have processed all my grief and I am in wonderful mental health space. Fortunately, at the hands and thanks to my old secondary school, I was encouraged and guided to engage in counselling to deal with and process my emotions. At first, I was very sceptical and thought, very stubbornly, that I could resolve it all in my head. But the more I held it in, the more stressed, anxious and upset I became: I was suffering from severe tension headaches to the point I would end up in A&E; I stayed up nights after nights worrying about what the future held. 

I am so glad I was proven wrong about counselling – it was so relieving having someone to speak to about how I was feeling authentically and in a raw setting. I didn’t feel judged and was able to open my mind more to why I was feeling what I was and also why my Mum could have been feeling the way she was. I also had the best support from the people around me who were always there to listen to me and comfort me when I was having a bad day. 

To get through the last few months I began to make a conscious effort to move my life forward and avoid sticking in a rut: planning my day out, throwing myself into university work, speaking to those closest to me when I was struggling, going out for walks, and finding new hobbies and interests to occupy my mind. On the days I didn’t feel like ‘me’, I would remind myself that this is not what my Mum would have wanted. She wouldn’t want me upset – she’d want me to be happy. 

Over the last 11 months, my proudest moment has to be when I raised £1365 for Mind from doing a 15k walk in honour of my Mum. For someone who hated PE and would turn up to lessons hoping the 60 minutes would fly by, this was a huge challenge! However, I knew it was something I wanted to do and something my Mum would’ve laughed at me for – for being the least athletic person going – but also would’ve been proud of. My social media were plastered for weeks with my JustGiving page as I was determined to raise as much as I could. I will always feel incredibly proud of myself for accomplishing the walk and for raising the amount of fund that I did. I hope to engage more in fundraising this year to keep raising awareness around Mental Health. 

When losing a parent or any loved ones, to any circumstance, people often tell you it gets easier; for me at the moment, I can’t say it has – but I’ve learnt to live with it. It is an irreversible and unchangeable chapter of my life, but I can let it make me not break me. Processing the loss and grief has helped me understand and emphasise with others more.

Your feelings, no matter what, is always valid when it comes to grief. You just have to remind yourself that you were and always are loved and that those lost too are always loved. 

I will always ‘love you all the world’ Mum.

To learn more about how you can support yourself through loss, you can find more Student Minds resources at Student Space. If you are seeking support, other organisations such as Cruse Bereavement Care,  Hope Again and Let's Talk about Loss are there to help.

Hi, I'm Lucy, a 20-year-old from London who wants to help raise awareness around Mental Health. After losing my Mum last year, I want people to see there is life throughout and beyond grief.

You'll always be my Dad

Luke shares a poem about losing his Dad to suicide. 

- Luke Sullivan

Content warning: this poem discusses suicide and grief. 

 

For more support with your mental health, please visit Student Space. For more information on creative writing for the Student Minds Blog, see sub-editor Hannah's blog. 

My name is Luke Sullivan and I live with an anxiety disorder. I further have lost my Dad to suicide. I would like to share a healthy way of how I channelled my grief of suicide loss into a poem.

A different kind of grief

Emily shares her experiences with a different kind of grief for Grief Awareness Week.

- Emily Maybanks

I understand full well how it feels to lose someone you love dearly. My Dad suffered with cancer for a few years before he sadly passed away in 2012, when I was seventeen years old. I’ve been learning to deal with the loss of my Dad; not having him be there for special occasions such as graduating university, moving abroad, birthdays, and beginning my career in teaching. However, the hardest thing has been not having him there for me through my own battles with cancer. First in 2017 and then again earlier this year.

Lots of people talk or write about the pain and grief that comes with losing a loved one, but no one really talks about the pain and grief that comes with finding out you are never going to be able to have children of your own. I think it is important to talk about this, and to be open and honest about the emotions and feelings that this brings with it.

I had my first ovary taken out in 2017 when I was twenty-two along with a tumour. Earlier this year, just weeks before lockdown, I had my other ovary removed, again, along with a tumour. Being told that I had ovarian cancer once was hard enough. Having it again and becoming infertile at the same time was crushing. To then have to recover from a major operation whilst coming to terms with everything, without being able to just go and see my friends earlier this year, was challenging to say the least. I often found myself wondering what my Dad would have said if he were still alive.

It has been so hard coming to terms with it all. I’ve felt angry; I’ve felt apathetic; I’ve felt alone; I’ve felt relieved, and I’ve wondered if I’d been going mad with all the emotions I felt. But most of all, I have tried to tell myself that I am lucky to have my health and that not being able to have children of my own isn’t a massive deal breaker because I can still make a difference to the lives of children and young people by being a teacher, and even a foster parent.

Finding out you’re not going to have children is certainly a different kind of bereavement because it is a type of loss. For me, it sometimes feels like I’ve lost the right to call myself a woman. And I feel awkward when people ask, “do you want children in the future?”, because how do I answer such a question honestly, without making them feel awkward?

I think it is important to keep talking about this openly and honestly because it is a reality for many people, and it is a tough, sometimes isolating experience. But, I have also learnt that friends will try to understand and they will be there for you – whether it is a shoulder to cry on, a hug, an ear to listen, or even just someone to sit in silence with. 

Learn more about loss, and how you can support yourself through it on Student Space. 

  

My name is Emily (Em). I recently graduated from Swansea University with my BA degree in Modern Languages, Translation & Interpreting where I was also passionate about and dedicated to Swansea Student Media and the University students' newspaper - Waterfront. I am currently an EAL Teacher and LSA at my old secondary school in Reading. I blog for Student Minds because I have experienced mental health issues as a student and now also as a graduate, as well as various other health issues, and I support friends and students who also have mental health difficulties. I am a passionate writer and writing has been important in my mental health experiences - both in helping me to explore and to cope with my mental health, as well as sharing my story in order to help and inspire others.

Dealing with the loss of a family member during university

Rianna shares her personal experience of dealing with the loss of my grandmother during university and share her tips for seeking help

- Rianna Patterson

University life isn't easy. I lost my grandmother during my second year of university. She passed away on the first day of exams. I only managed to do one exam and then I flew back to Dominica that same week to be with my mum and help plan the funeral. I had to submit a concession for that term which meant I pursued exams at a later date. I managed to pass my exams and proceed to my final year.

I started the new school year feeling hopeful, but that had rapidly decreased as I became depressed. I was not able to fully grieve for my grandmother during summertime so the effect of her death impacted me starting in September. I spoke to the Psychology support team at my university, they were very supportive. I pursued cognitive therapy (CBT) because I could not bring myself to think positively anymore, about anything. I found it hard to get out of bed in the morning. I lacked motivation to even go to the grocery shop to buy food. University did not fulfil me, my hobbies did not fulfil me. I felt like I had no direction. 

I received an email in November which sparked an idea and that generated some desire to work towards something. I got back my motivation and kept working on this project. By the start of 2020 all my enthusiasm dropped once again as I started to go through a period of financial difficulty. I completely gave up on everything and decided to leave social media. I think the break also helped me to focus on my mental health and therapy sessions. I came back on social media after exams, started working on the film project that I am now looking to launch in November 2020, to raise awareness of Dementia. The proceeds of the film will also be used to donate to educational and mental health charities in memory of my grandmother. 

One piece of advice I would give to anyone facing the loss of a family member during university is to be patient with yourself and focus on what matters. Motivation is like a curveball, it will come and go. Grades are important but I personally believe that your mental health takes priority. I am still working on this myself to take breaks and be kind to myself but sometimes life will put you in a position where you have no choice but to be still and heal. Call a friend, there will always be someone who understands but remember your friends are not your therapist. I would not suggest depending on your friends for clarity and a deeper understanding. Seek professional help if needs be. 

Grieving is a process, it can activate a very sensitive side of you. I was very vulnerable during this time. I would take offence to everything and anything. There were periods where I felt alone and did not reach out for help. Reflecting on this, it wasn't a good approach. Speak to your university and join support groups. In the early stages of grieving, creativity gave me purpose and enjoyment, think about what works for you and try it. It might be painting or journaling. Allow yourself to feel, whether positive or negative. Suppressing your emotions is not a concrete strategy. Feel so you can heal. 

 

Check out Student Minds for more advice on looking after your mental wellbeing at university.

Visit the NHS website to access support and resources for those experiencing bereavement.  Let's Talk About Loss also provide support for people 18-35 who have lost someone. 

Visit Student Space for more information about coping with loss, especially during the coronavirus outbreak.

Rianna Patterson is the founder of a youth led charity called Dominica Dementia Foundation, which raises awareness of Dementia and provides support to care homes, families and caregivers affected by Dementia. She is also a fellow TEDx speaker and director of the Dementia the Island Journey Film, a project that has motivated her during her university life. If you would like to find out more about the project please visit these links: 

dominicadementiafoundation.org

https://instagram.com/dementiaisledoc

https://www.facebook.com/DominicaDementiaFoundation/

Coping with Anniversaries

Emily shares some tips for making anniversaries of loss or traumatic events easier to cope with.

- Emily Maybanks

Anniversaries of either a loss or a traumatic event are hard, but, from personal experience, there are things to do which can ease the difficulty a little. For context, I lost my Dad to cancer in 2012 when I was 17; although this was a long time ago now, there is absolutely no time limit on grief and I still find the anniversary of his death, and indeed Father’s Day every year, emotional. In May 2018, I was the survivor (I prefer the term survivor to victim) of an assault during a coach journey back to university for my final ever university exam. The anniversary of this event is also tough. 

Things which I have found have helped me to cope better around the anniversaries of both my Father’s death, and the assault, include firstly using your support network of friends and colleagues for example. For the most part, I am fortunate that they are understanding and supportive. Whether I need to talk, or cry, or just be silent in their presence, they are there for me. Similarly, if I just need a hug or a distraction, I am able to turn to my friends. Of course, it is important to acknowledge that some people do not have this support network, in which case there are lots of online blogs and forums where you can seek advice and support. 

Secondly, I have found acknowledging and accepting the emotions during an anniversary to be helpful. In fact, this is healthier for our mental and physical health than bottling away these emotions. It is better for you to experience whatever emotions that might show up and to let yourself feel and process these emotions in your own time and in a place that feels safe. Telling yourself that you will be okay – for me, especially surrounding the anniversary of the assault, I often stand in front of a mirror and repeat positive statements such as “I will be okay” or “this too shall pass”. 

Thirdly, this is particularly when coping with the anniversary of the loss of a loved one, I have found it helpful to mark the day with something they would have enjoyed. For example, on the anniversary of my Dad’s death, I try to go for a peaceful walk and I also bake a cake because my Dad loved walking and he also loved my baking. This often makes the day much more enjoyable and it makes me feel that if my Dad were still to be alive, he would be happy. Sometimes, I look at old photos of myself and my Dad and remember the happier memories that we shared together, such as family holidays. 

Finally, I would say that it is important to find a way to cope that works for you, but don’t forget that there is always someone willing to listen, to hug, to support. 

Some websites which offer support for bereavement and/or PTSD include Cruse, Mind and PTSD UK . 

For more information and support see the Student Minds website.

My name is Emily (Em). In 2018, I graduated from Swansea University with my BA degree in Modern Languages, Translation & Interpreting where I was also passionate about and dedicated to Swansea Student Media and the University students’ newspaper – Waterfront. In September 2020 I will be starting a PGCE at the University of Reading to train to teach Secondary MFL (French and German). I blog for Student Minds because I have experienced mental health issues as a student and now also as a graduate, as well as various other health issues, and I support friends who also have mental health difficulties. I am a passionate writer and writing has been important in my mental health experiences – both in helping me to explore and to cope with my mental health, as well as sharing my story in order to help and inspire others.

Learning to Grieve

*Trigger warning* This blog talks about death and grief which we understand can be upsetting.

In this blog Carys shares her tips on dealing with loss and grief as a young person

-Carys

Recently, I watched a brilliant documentary on BBC iPlayer by George Shelley talking about loss and grief (you'll need tissues). I immediately realised a huge gap in mental health discussion: why is grief never talked about? Especially grief and loss among young people. Perhaps grief is hard to articulate clearly because it isn't clear at all.

Everyone who comes into this world will experience grief at some point in their life, and it's not something you're ever prepared for. Sometimes you don't even think a death will affect you so deeply, but it does.

In this blog I hope to share some tips that I've used when dealing with the sudden loss of 3 friends before age 21, named MR, DB and AW. All three were amazing people and friends I thought I'd have forever. During these rough, emotional experiences I’ve understood a lot about coming to terms with death and I hope what I’ve learned will be useful for others.

1)  Talk about them:

In the documentary, George Shelley mentioned about not even being able to say his sister's name to begin with, which is something I really related to. Since AW died, it's rare I've called them by the name I knew them as. George said to say the name out loud, so I did, and it helped. I sat there in my ball-pool of tissues screaming "AW!" for a good 20 minutes. It felt freeing! Finally, saying the name felt a lot less painful.

2) Let the emotions roll:

I’m all over the place with emotions - sometimes I don't even know if I'm sad crying or happy crying, but it doesn’t matter. There is no right way to feel: I’m allowed to be sad, angry, lonely or quiet if I want to be. It's okay to dedicate time for it too. If I get triggered, I allow myself to take 5 minutes of deep-howling cries or pillow-punching sessions. I’ll then wipe those eyes and start again. I know I'll feel worse if I bottle up these emotions.

3) Remember them:

Facebook’s “remembering" feature in front of my friends' names pulls at those heartstrings. Cover photos picture a moment I desperately wish to re-live. But the photos - and even more so the videos - I find weirdly calming to look through. When someone asks me about framed memories in my room, and the pictures covering my noticeboard, I feel I can talk happily about it. I can remember those times as funny, good, and happy, which they were.

4) Listen to Music

It's amazing how our minds link songs to certain people or memories. Of the 3 funerals I've attended, I remember the first minute of AW's. It's normal for your brain to detach from reality during distressing times - it's called dissociation. I wasn’t able to cry at DB’s funeral and I used to think about that a lot - it doesn't mean that I'm less sad or not as worthy of being there as others (which is what my brain likes to tell me). When I playback the non-hymn tunes played at the services, sometimes memories come out of them, sometimes I get nothing at all. I put on music that we used to listen to together to feel closer to them, or simply feel anything at all.

5) Meditate

Finally, have a listen to this on YouTube. I use when no one is there to listen, or I don't know how to talk about what is hurting. It makes you imagine a person who you need/want to tell something that you've been holding in, and they take it away from you and disappear until you need them again. I'm not the type of person who enjoys meditating, but this clip has helped me so much in life, and it doesn't just apply to grief.

6) Be patient with yourself, and others.

We all grieve differently. It's been 7 months now since AW passed, but my housemates and I are finally all talking again in person and online. The "elephant in the room" or the empty space is still there, and life isn’t the same anymore, but it's getting less difficult. We’re still allowed to have banter and share Gifs in group chats, even with one of us missing.

Thank you so much for reading and well done for getting through this important topic - writing this has been difficult, so I can imagine reading it will be too. Please remember to take some time to practice self-care and look after you.

I'm Carys, a 4th year Modern Languages student at Durham University. As well as my passion for languages and travel, I love talking about mental health and I am one of the Student Minds editors this year. Please get in touch if you have any questions or comments about my work - I love hearing from you!

Talking About Bereavement

Emily writes about bereveament and the impact its intrinsic links with mental health and wellbeing.

- Emily Maybanks

Earlier this year, I was featured in a BBC News article (and a Wales Online article) about the importance of talking about death and dying. Yes, this is a pretty morbid topic. I was speaking to the media on behalf of the hospice charity ‘Sue Ryder’. My Dad was cared for in their Duchess of Kent Hospice in Reading at the end of his life six years ago. The charity was calling to end the taboo surrounding speaking about death. Death is something that inevitably affects us all and not talking about it – in a very similar way that not talking about mental health leads to this too – makes it awkward. 

Bereavement and mental health can be linked. A traumatic life event such as bereavement can trigger mental health difficulties. This is certainly the case in my life and with my experiences. After my Dad passed away in 2012, during my final year of A Levels, it honestly felt as though my life would never be the same as it was before. This was difficult for me to accept. After my Dad died, I was diagnosed with depression and I’ve struggled on and off with depression and anxiety ever since. 

Losing my Dad shapes everything I do in my life. Everything from choosing to go to University, to studying abroad, to writing for and being an editor for the students’ newspaper at University – every choice I make, I wonder what my Dad would say, or how he would feel. Sometimes, this doesn’t help my emotional health at all. Other times, it’s comforting to think that he might be proud of me. One of the things that I have learnt over the past six years is that the pain of losing someone never quite goes away. Yes, it gets easier to deal with, but it never completely vanishes and it is wrong to expect it to. The thought of graduating this summer without my Dad watching me is heart breaking. Every Birthday, Father’s Day, Christmas and anniversary, I miss him so much it hurts. 

Talking about it and being open about how I feel about my Dad’s death is something that I struggled with enormously at first. Once I came to University, I met people who had been through similar things and I felt more comfortable to talk about my own experiences of bereavement. I have also found that talking about bereavement is helpful in helping me to deal with my own emotions and it feels less and less awkward when I do talk about it.  

If you would like to get involved with our Men's Mental Health blogging series, then you can find all of the details here. You can also send us an email at blog@studentminds.org.uk for more details!

My name is Emily (Em). I am currently in my final year studying Modern Languages, Translation & Interpreting at Swansea University, where I'm also the Creative Writing Section Editor and Deputy Editor for The Waterfront - Swansea's student newspaper. I wanted to write for Student Minds because I have experienced depression and anxiety as well as other health issues, and I support friends who have also experienced mental health difficulties. I am also a passionate writer and writing has been important in my mental health experiences - both in helping me to cope with my mental health, as well as sharing my story in order to help others. 

The Perils of Perfectionism

Catrin discusses the effect that anxiety and perfectionism have on university life, and how easy it is to put unnecessary stress on yourself. She explores the high-pressure environment at the University of Oxford, and how stress can be a competitive sport.

- Catrin Haberfield

University is hard. Brilliant, but hard, no matter where you are or what you study. I’m in my third year at Somerville College, Oxford, and I’ve truly loved every minute of it. My course is fantastic – I’ve had the chance to study everything from Beowulf to Dickens, Chaucer to Stoppard, and I’m having a whale of a time researching runic epigraphy for my dissertation. My college is amazing too: the welfare, food, accommodation, and people are all wonderful. But while the past two years have been an absolutely incredible experience, they’ve also been extremely challenging. 

One in four university students experiences mental health issues; at Oxford, it’s closer to one in two. I’m not stating this to gain sympathy, or to try and convince people that Oxford students are ‘special snowflakes’. I know that I’m at quite literally the best university in the world, and I’m proud of my achievements, but it can’t be escaped that standards here are high and so many people push themselves to breaking point just to live up to expectations. To make matters worse, these expectations can often be self-imposed. I definitely think that most Oxford students have a perfectionist streak, but with the sheer amount of work we’re given it’s hard to be 100% on point for every essay, tute sheet, or presentation. All too often, stress becomes competitive, and having four essays and reading list a mile long is worn like a badge of honour. But there’s nothing more futile, nothing more unhelpful, than constant self-deprecation coupled with high expectations.

I’ve lived with anxiety for years, and have struggled with depression and an eating disorder at various points of my life. A lot of these issues stem from perfectionism, and manifest as unhealthy coping mechanisms for stress. Eating disorders and self-harm, for example, often develop as ways to regain control over one part of your life when you feel powerless in other areas. During my first year, my eating disorder developed into bulimia, my depression reached an all-time low, a relationship ended, and my grandfather died. Add all of these things together, and top it off with a healthy dose of two essays a week (plus learning Old English from scratch), and you can see why I struggled. 

But – and this is the important thing – you don’t have to have a mental illness to struggle at uni. You don’t have to be mentally ill to find things hard. Everyone has their own mental health, the same way everyone has their own physical health, and you need to look after both. Stress is a natural part of life, and a certain amount is absolutely a healthy thing. Can you imagine if you didn’t get stressed about anything? You’d never be motivated, or interested, or scared. Life would be boring. But don’t make things harder by putting more pressure on yourself than you need. Set realistic goals, find a balance between work and play, and don’t punish yourself for taking an evening (or even a whole weekend) off. I guess my point is: be nice to yourself. You deserve it.

Hi folks! I'm Catrin, a third year Medieval English Language and Literature student at Somerville College, Oxford. I've always been super vocal when it comes to mental health; I love pushing boundaries and challenging people's assumptions about mental illness. I live with mental illness, so I know how much both the illnesses and the stigma can affect your life, as well as the lives of others. I'm incredibly excited to be a Sub-Editor for Student Minds, and I can't wait to help other people share their stories!

How to: Navigate Uni with a Dissociative Disorder

Recognising mental illness at university can be hard. Especially, as with dissociative disorders, they aren't talked about very often.

-Elise Jackson

University is undoubtedly amazing. However, getting through the first year can be a challenge for many. Moving away from everything that is familiar, meeting a diverse array of completely new people and having to adapt to an entirely new way of learning is not easy, to say the least. For me, the summer before I started university was the hardest of my life. I lost a lot. My mum had moved half way across the country, my family sold the only home I’d ever known and my friends, destined for universities up and down the country, had to say goodbye. This summer of loss was made only more difficult, by a previous, truly world shattering, loss that occurred during my A-level exams. Four days before my 18th birthday, I lost my big brother to SUDEP (Sudden Unexpected Death in Epilepsy). It was one week before his 22nd birthday. We came to terms with it somehow but grieving whilst simultaneously moving house, sitting A-level exams and leaving home for the first time to embark on my new student life, unsurprisingly, proved difficult. 

I struggled. Within two days of being at university, my parents had phoned the university to help me get some support. I was in the counseling service before the end of Freshers. The counselors were brilliant, very understanding, informed, and acted immediately. Thankfully, when I had settled in, things got better fast. My entire block of fellow first years was super sociable. We spent a lot of time living as one huge flat. I was also lucky enough to have one of my best friends from home living two blocks down. Between my block and his flat, housing for second year was sorted by mid-November. Things were going well so I stopped going to counseling. 

But.

 The thing about mental health is that it can fluctuate, it's somewhat unpredictable. Around February time I had to return my mum's new home in Norfolk for a few days because I felt... wrong. At the time, I thought it was exhaustion and decided a few days at home would solve it. And it did, for a little while. These short periods of what I can only describe as fogginess came to every couple of months but always passed within a week or so. Exams came and went and summer returned. 

During summer, I’m often between places. I usually choose to spend most of the holiday period in Sussex as it is where the majority of my friends are. It also means I can be close to my dad’s family. Reflecting on that first summer of University, I think I must have felt it coming to some extent but not really acknowledged it. I went to stay in Norfolk and something hit me like a tidal wave. This time, I was forced to realize that something was going on in my brain that couldn’t be simply solved by a week at home. I lived for a month feeling like I wasn’t in my own body. I felt I was watching life through a hazy screen. Eventually, I found out that I was suffering from DPD (depersonalization disorder), triggered by depression. 

When I returned to uni, I found out about Student Minds and began volunteering for them. I decided I needed to take control of my own brain. My mental health still fluctuates a lot. I’ll often be feeling fine and then become unwell for a few months. Learning how to deal with this has been the biggest challenge of my second year. Dissociative disorders are not often talked about nor are they well researched. During a relapse, I feel drunk all the time or like a robot who can’t feel anything under the surface. Knowing that there are ways to reconnect with your body is the most important thing. I practice mindfulness, meditation and yoga to stay connected to my body and remain grounded. I intend to return to counseling. But as always, more needs to be done, but I remain optimistic that it will.

Hello! I'm Elise. I'm currently in my final year studying English Language and Literature at the University of Nottingham. My writings for Student Minds will range from pieces about depression and DPD to coping with loss, bereavement and change during your studies - all the while remaining mindful and getting the most out of university life. Thanks for reading!

Losing Someone to Suicide

Erin discusses the difficulties in coming to terms with death, and how to cope with a loved one taking their own life.                                                                                   - Erin Cadden

Losing any family member or friend is difficult. Dealing with grief is the hardest thing you’ll have to face with in life. But losing someone to suicide - this can be even more heart destroying. 

People say that those who take their own life are selfish. The people saying this are naïve in thinking that it was the individual’s choice to make this life-ending decision. Mental illness controls your brain and your thoughts – thoughts so consuming and loud that sometimes you lose track of the fact it’s not you talking, but your mind.

I was 8 years old. It was 2006 and my Dad was only 40. I remember coming home from a sleepover with a close family member and entering the living room to my mum in tears. As an 8-year-old you don’t think losing a parent is something you’ll have to experience. In fact, at this age it’s something you can’t even mentally process. How is anyone this young meant to understand that someone who was supposed to love you so much has taken their own life? How are you meant to understand that you’ll never again get the opportunity to hear their laugh, to feel their hugs or see their face? It was, and still is, soul destroying.

The movement of tectonic plates could not compare to the shift in reality that had happened for myself and my family that day. We not only had to mourn the reality that we had lost the most important man in our lives, but we had to come to terms with how it happened. I’m now 19 years old, and if I’m completely honest, I still don’t fully understand the passing of my father. 

In cycles, I went through the different stages of grief. To this day I still do, trying to come to terms with the fact my father left us. Some days, I get angry. I blame him for it all, blame him for ending his life, for leaving my family, and for making us have to live life without him. Sometimes I just feel sad and empty. Sad about the fact that I never really got to know him. About the fact he will never watch my sisters and I grow up or walk us down the aisle. 

But sometimes I’m happy knowing that I experienced him, even if it was for a very small amount of time in my early childhood. I’m happy to remember the small memories I shared with him, and I’m happy to know that wherever he is, he’s no longer suffering. There’s a massive hole in our heart that will never be filled by anyone. Dads are one of a kind. But my Dad was someone incredibly special.

My father’s death raises a lot of anxiety for myself. You can’t blame people with mental illness for taking their own lives, because it’s not themselves that make the decision, but the illness itself. The fact I now suffer with mental illness means I can empathise, and go some way to understanding what drove my dad to do what he did. It wasn’t his fault. The darkness just overcame him.

Those who take their own lives don’t make that decision themselves. Don’t blame the person, but the illness. You can’t take anything for granted. You can’t know what’s going to happen in a year, month or even hour. All you can do is live life to the fullest, loving and being loved.

The Power of Storytelling: Naomi's Experience

As part of Student Minds' Power of Storytelling Campaign, Naomi writes about her experiences in coping with bereavement 

-Naomi Barrow 

Hi, I'm Naomi. I grew up in Leeds with my parents and two brothers and now frequently go back to visit my Dad and brothers and bake enough to feed a small army for a week! I live in York and am passionate about volunteering and getting young people involved in their communities. My mum had terminal cancer and died in October 2015. I feel that as a society, we don't talk enough about the effects of cancer on others in the family, or what cancer is really like, particularly for young people. This is why I have decided to blog about it on my personal blog adaughtersdiary.co.uk. I also write for the Huffington Post, you can see my profile and the work I do here.  

What inspired you to share your story?

I first started writing about Mum’s illness (and then her death) because it was cathartic for me. It helped me to get everything in my head out onto a piece of paper (or a screen). I posted them because it felt easier to update my friends that way then by telling them all individually. Soon after I started writing, though, other people began to show interest in my posts, and I realised that my blog was encouraging conversations, real conversations, about terminal illness and death. I began to realise how important it was to keep writing, keep sharing, and keep encouraging others to do the same.

Has telling your story helped you?

Yes it has! I’ve found great comfort in the response I’ve received – others responding to my posts and sharing bits of their stories with me has helped me to feel less alone and less ‘abnormal’. It’s also been helpful when my brain has felt like a foggy fuzz – writing can help me to tease things out and make sense of it all.

Has telling your story helped anyone else?

I hope so. I really hope that others in a similar situation read it and feel less alone. I hope it helps them to find the words to speak to their family and friends. But I also hope it helps those with no experience of death or terminal illness to try and understand what it might be like to be in that situation. I hope it helps them to then help others they know who might be experiencing a terminal illness or death in the family.

What did you find hardest about sharing your story?

It can be really hard to find the words sometimes. There are times when my head feels so foggy and full and I can struggle to find any words. Even if I can find some words, sometimes no words seem to match my feelings and that can be incredibly frustrating! There are occasions when I fear being judged, sometimes I want to slightly sugar-coat the reality and not share the ‘bad’ bits, but life isn’t like that and I think it’s important to share the good and the bad, there is no point in sharing a highly-edited, rose-tinted reality, because that’s not real.

  

Do you have any advice for anyone coping with bereavement?

I’m not sure I have any great advice other than remembering that everyone copes differently! For me, it was really helpful to have people around me to talk things through and to do fun things with. But my brothers and Dad coped in different ways. I think it’s just important to be kind to yourself and cut yourself some slack!

Are you interested in getting involved in the Power of Storytelling Blog series? Please don't hesitate to get in touch at blog@studentminds.org