Lottie writes about her struggles of anxiety at university.
- Lottie Naughton
When I embarked on my student journey, I was probably at my
lowest point emotionally. After a few disappointing A Level results and a
deferred year due to my inability to make my mind up, I was finally committing
to the biggest decision I had ever had to make. I was moving away from home, I
was going to do a degree I always had a passion for and I was doing it all by
myself.
Before university I had no direction, and didn’t intend on
carving out my own path either. I was content with my part time job, my college
group of friends and my cushy life with my family at home. Why did I need to
leave when I had everything I could’ve asked for right where I was? But of
course, that time in my life was only temporary. My friends and boyfriend left
for university, my family needed rent money if I was planning on staying and my
part-time job was simply not enough. I was alone and facing pressure from all
sides (including myself) to figure out who I was.
When I finally made my mind up and settled on Plymouth as my
home for the next 4 years I was excited. It was a new huge chapter in my life
that finally meant I could understand what all my friends were experiencing
first hand for myself. I decided I would join every society available to me, be
the captain of at least three sports teams and leave university an adult with a
First Class degree under her belt. Unfortunately, these expectations and goals
I set for myself were completely unrealistic.
When my parents left me alone in my new room for the first time
I had my first panic attack. I ended up hiding under the bed in floods of tears
on the phone to my boyfriend. I didn’t venture into the kitchen for four days
because I didn’t know how to start a conversation with all those new faces
without hyperventilating. I made every excuse I could think of to not leave my
room during Freshers’. My only saving grace was my phone and the contacts I had
left behind at home. That was my first real experience with anxiety and how
debilitating it can be. I was hungry, lonely and desperate to make friends, and
yet I could not bring myself to simply walk down the stairs.
As the year progressed, I slowly came out of my shell and
became close to another housemate who also did my course. She supported me and
helped me immensely in making up for the time I had missed in my first few
weeks. By the end of my first year, I was happy and finally feeling confident
about my life. Unfortunately, this feeling again was only temporary.
My anxiety slowly crept up on me in places I never expected
it to- I was able to present a research question to my tutor group with full
confidence, but couldn’t face going out for drinks with my friends without
feeling dread in my stomach and obsessing over every move I made, every facial
expression I made just to make sure everyone liked me. I could attend each of
my lectures and chat one on one to supervisors with a smile, but when my
boyfriend asked me to go to a party with his friends I ended up in bed, in
tears not being able to explain why I couldn’t face it and feeling that panic,
dread and fear I had felt in my first few days as a student. Was something
wrong with me? Why couldn’t I be a social butterfly like everyone else? Why did every social situation feel like hell
to me, when it never had before? They looked so confident. It looked so simple!
But I could not bring myself to face large groups or social situations that
were new.
When I reached my third year I decided to do a work
placement back home to give myself a break from the pressures of university and
move back in with my family for a year. I became close to a colleague there who
explained to me how she also suffered panic attacks and anxiety so similar to
what I had gone through. I understood then that I wasn’t some strange human
anomaly. I understood that I wasn’t just simply a shy girl. I was suffering and
I needed help. When I finally reached out to my family and my friends I felt a
weight lift. My anxiety didn’t magically disappear, but I had shared the burden
and I was being listened to. My feelings were valid and my experience was not
rare.
I went into my final year at university with a new
perspective, a support network cheering me on and a new found belief in myself.
I was happy to be back and raring to go. My next chapter in life is starting to
rear its head with my graduation creeping closer every day, and I must admit
it’s ugly. It’s unknown and frightening; truly my worst nightmare. I’m facing
what I faced when I first left home, but I’m also not carrying as much baggage
as I was before and I’m carrying the right equipment to see me through. I don’t
know what the future holds but I’m looking forward it regardless.
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