*Potential trigger warning: mention of self harm
University
was always something I wanted to do, but I never felt it was right going
straight from college, I couldn’t have imagined leaving home and being a real
life adult at 18 years old so I took a few years out to save up some money,
pass my driving test, and generally get some real adult life experience. At the
end of 2013 I was working a full time job, feeling stable and relatively happy,
I decided it was time for me to move on to the next chapter of my life.
I got
accepted onto a Musical Theatre course in the spring of 2014, and by the
September I found myself living in halls of residence with a bunch of people I
didn’t know, in a city I had never been to before and back in education after 2
years away. I felt so empowered and I honestly thought this would be my saving
grace, a chance to start again.
But reality
began to hit me when the fun stopped and the work started piling up, I suddenly
noticed I was becoming that stressed, anxiety ridden girl I was 2 years ago. I
would sit at my desk for hours staring at a blank laptop screen willing myself
to just TRY but I had no motivation, nothing would work. I started to get
behind in the first couple of months and this just spiraled into a frenzy of
panic and procrastination. I was feeling sub-par in my practical lessons too,
began to doubt my abilities and would constantly ask myself "why am I
here? I'm nowhere near talented enough". I would
come home almost every weekend because I was so homesick, which on reflection
was a bad move because it only made it worse when Sunday afternoon arrived and
I had to go back there where I was so lonely.
It was
around the beginning of December I really noticed a deterioration in my mental
health. Nothing was fun, nothing was exciting. I found myself skipping lectures
so I could be alone and I could self harm, which would then in turn prevent me
from going to dance classes because I wasn’t able to bear my skin. I was self
harming most days and nights not even thinking about it, it was routine. I
constantly felt anxious and nauseous, it was like a never ending vicious circle
that I couldn’t fight my way out of.
One
Wednesday I had made the effort and dragged myself to tap class (the only class
I really enjoyed), and within 20 minutes of the lesson I was running down the
corridor, tapping with every step, and hid myself in the toilets in a fit of
anxiety. I was terrified. It was by far one of the worst panic attacks I have
had to this day. I spoke to my mum on the phone and she eventually encouraged
me to go back into the class and get my bag to go back to the flat. My flatmate
left class early as well to walk me home, I don’t think she knows how much I
appreciated that help and reassurance.
I got
into my room and I paced back and forth for a while until another of my
flatmates came to see if I was OK, which of course I wasn’t and must have been
a complete state to look at! I had decided I wanted to drive home that night
because I couldn’t stay there any longer, but obviously my parents weren't
convinced that was a good idea considering the state I was in. I couldn't care
less, all I wanted was my home so I quickly packed a bag and ran down the
stairs and before I knew it I was in my car en route to home. I got home at about
8:30pm and I thought as soon as I walked through the door I would feel calm,
but I didn't. This attack lasted late into the night, probably a good 10 hours.
I stayed
at home until the Sunday when I decided it was best I went back to uni as it
was the last week before Christmas. I didn't make it to many lectures but at
least I was there. I didn't sleep until about 7am most nights that week, I had
so much to think about, can I handle this or do I leave? What happens if I
leave? What if I can't get a job? What if I regret my decision?
During
the Christmas break I had a lot of thinking to do, but mostly I was just glad
to be at home for 2 weeks. I did go back after the break, but only for 3 days.
It all started again the moment I got there, the anxiety, the stress, the
loneliness, the sleepless nights. Finally, after 3 days of tears, self harming
and no sleep I made the decision that this wasn't a healthy environment for me
and it was time to go. I packed a bag and left that day without telling anyone,
not even the university. I spent a few days deliberating what I would say to my
course leader and plucking up the courage when I eventually did and just like
that I had dropped out of university after only 3 months of being there. There
was a huge sense of relief but also dread, what next?
Dad and I
traveled back up there about a week later to pack all my stuff up and clear my
room, I handed in my key and drove away, never looking back.
Since
leaving university in January 2015 I still haven't worked, not even really
completely got back on my feet. In the June of the same year I was diagnosed
with Borderline Personality Disorder and since then it has just been a mission
to learn to live with what I've been dealt and its certainly not been an easy
one.
I do not
regret going to university at all, in fact I'm glad I did because if I hadn't
tried it I would never know if it was for me, which clearly it isn't! I do have
days when I look back and wonder 'what if?' What if I stayed and I was in my
3rd year now, would I have gotten through it or would I have been digging my
own grave?
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