Charlotte discusses her
experience with grief and ongoing anxiety regarding her decision to change
university course.
- Charlotte Stevenson
When my granddad passed away from cancer, I was 17 years old. It was incredibly hard - not only had I always felt closest to him, but I had also been caring for him. The weeks which followed are a blur of grief, and my brain seems to have erased much of what happened. This is largely because at the same time, I was also learning to cope with my own anxiety and panic disorder.
Grief and anxiety are difficult
to handle together. At first, both seemed entirely out of control; whenever I
managed to control one, the other would rear its ugly head. For a long time, I
tried to ignore it all and get on with life as ‘normal’ - which back then meant
giving all my attention to A level's and not really listening to my brain.
Instead of allowing myself the time and space I needed to process everything, I
threw myself into schoolwork and extra-curriculars. While these things mattered
to me, they didn't distract from my larger problems. If anything, I now realise
that it was merely to create the illusion that I was fine.
Until this point, I had spent
most of my life preparing to be a classical singer. This dream had led me to
sing with choirs and orchestras all over Europe, audition for elite
conservatoires, and take extra exams to prove my vocal ability. However, the
high-pressure environment of classical singing isn't for everyone. When I began
a conservatoire course after A levels, I was excited! But upon arrival, I found
that all my hard work, even at my ideal school, wasn’t a time machine that
could take me back to my former self. In fact, throughout my entire time at
music college, I felt like a failure; nothing made sense and I didn’t feel like
I belonged. I decided to try moving home to complete the first year of my
course.
Once I returned home, I told my
mum everything. I had been incredibly worried because I didn't want to upset or
disappoint her after everything we went through with granddad. But once I had told her (and we both spent that
evening crying) I felt massive relief - now it was out loud, it was real. I had
acknowledged anxiety for the first time. After that moment, which was a long
time in the making, I was then able to learn how to care of myself and my
mental health properly. I started speaking about it more, balancing my
workload, and generally putting myself first. It isn't easy, and still isn’t
100% natural, but I’m gradually adjusting.
The most important step I made
towards self-care was re-applying to university for a subject I love: English
Literature. When you train for music all your life, it’s very easy to put on a
pair of blinkers, thinking it’s your only possible future, but there were
always other subjects that I enjoyed studying. In fact, now I want to learn
everything I can in my lifetime. Getting accepted to my dream literature course
was another confusing milestone. While I was over the moon, I also thought that
I had let my granddad down. Before he passed away, he made my mum promise that
I wouldn't give up music. I spoke to mum, and she said that while it was hard,
I had made the right decision for myself and my own happiness - which is all
that granddad would have wanted. She was right - studying English quite literally
saved my life.
If there is one thing that I hope
you take from this, it’s that putting yourself first and talking about your
problems – especially when it’s difficult – is the best way to take care of
your mental health. Too often, because it’s not physical, we call the problem
'imaginary'. But you would seek help for a broken leg, and it's the same for
your brain. Telling someone you trust can be the first step to recovery - not
straightaway, but gradually. It might not seem so now but I can promise you,
reaching out does make a difference.
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