When I was 7 I decided what I wanted to be when I was older, and that career required me to go to University. I have always suffered from anxiety and panic attacks, so when the time came, this was a big deal for me – especially as the University I was going to was over an hour from home and I had to move there. I barely even coped at sleepovers when I was growing up because I missed home so much and 80% of the time I ended up returning home in the middle of the night, much to my friends’ annoyance.
I think I was in denial all of the summer before I started Uni, trying to ignore the fact I was going to be moving away in a matter of weeks. As I packed all of my belongings and went out with my parents to pick up kitchen stuff and other bits and pieces which I would need, I still put it all to the back of my mind and pretended it wasn’t happening.
The reality hit me once I had moved everything into my new room and my Dad drove off into the distance. I sat on my bed in my new room in halls and didn’t really know what to do next – this was really happening. I was in a town I didn’t even know and would be living with nine people I had never met which was quite daunting for someone who was very socially awkward.
The first week was definitely a challenge. I woke up being sick every morning with nerves and was sure I absolutely couldn’t do it. My mum was on the verge of picking me up and taking me back home again, but suddenly everything just settled. I can’t pinpoint the moment I felt like everything was OK, but it happened. I slowly made some really good friends who I still see now, six years after meeting them. Although I still found it tricky and came home most weekends to see my family and friends, the week was alright. I didn’t go out drinking but I did have fun doing exceptionally silly things and enjoying my freedom with some amazing people.
My second year was a bit of a different story. We ended up having quite bad luck in the house we had moved into. We were burgled which shook as all up a bit and the following week we started getting mice in the house which lead to a huge infestation. Most of us refused to go downstairs which is where they were as we were absolutely terrified, so survived on takeaways or meals out. It doesn’t sound too bad but it was very expensive and, quite frankly, exhausting. I even bought bottled water so I didn’t have to go downstairs to get a drink because it was inevitable that if you went downstairs, a mouse would scurry across the room in front of you, only just avoiding your feet. I was also having a hard time on the placement I was on and, again, I was incredibly close to giving up. My mum just wanted me to be happy and it broke her heart hearing me crying on the phone most nights so she told me to leave. My dad, however, wouldn’t even entertain the idea of me giving up. So I carried on.
At the time I felt completely consumed by the situation and I couldn’t see the end. It’s really tricky when things are tough to recognise that they will pass and everything will be good again one day. What I find crazy is that my Uni days are all a distant memory now and on the whole, I look back on them happily and remember the good times rather than the rubbish time which I felt would never end! I think my Uni experience made me stronger as a person because I had to face a lot of fears and tackle a lot of issues I had. Being forced to do that was what I needed, and as a reward, I got a degree which got me my dream job. The most important thing to remember is that nothing lasts forever and you are definitely stronger than you think!
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