Why my MA will be my new beginning

In this blog, Alice talks about how even though her undergraduate experience wasn't the best, she's determined to have a more positive time studying for her Master's degree. 

University wasn’t the place for me. I’m not saying it was bad. I’m just saying it wasn’t good. I didn’t care about the Mexican Revolution, religious symbolism in the work of J. L. Borges, or the exploration of the self and form in twentieth-century France. Likewise, I did not care about the difference between the pronunciation of “vu” and “vous”, “pero”, and “perro”.  I did not care about getting an F in a relatively unimportant presentation. I did not care that my tutor declared my essay on feminism to be “decidedly mediocre”.

Instead, I cared about evenings in pubs, walks in the park and sessions at the gym. I cared about staying up all night watching films and reading books not on the syllabus. I cared about cycling from a bar to my friend’s house at 1am on a Monday morning. I cared about going to gigs, visiting photography exhibitions, and rummaging through Spitalfields market on a Sunday.

When it came to studying, I tried, but only sort of. Half an hour before class was due to start I would open my workbook and frantically scribble something down. In the evenings, I would read novels of my own choosing before embarking on (and then later abandoning) the set texts. As for the presentations, I would usually just miss those classes and carry the fail. Invariably, I would turn up to every class utterly unprepared, having no idea about what was about to be discussed, and caring very little.

At the end of my three-year degree (which took me five years to complete), I received a transcript of my results, telling me that I had received one fail, two thirds, 2:2s, 2:1s, and firsts – all of which averaged out into the most meaningless 2:1 the uni must have ever given.

What the transcript didn’t say was that, during my studies, I had experienced debilitating depression, unrelenting OCD, one terrible coming out, one terrible relationship, one terrible break up, and the onset of Tourette’s syndrome.

OK, maybe university was bad.

This year, though, I have a place on UEA’s Creative Writing MA, and I’m determined to go back to my studies.

But if my undergraduate was so tumultuous, why am I doing this?

The answer is simple: university is, for me, unfinished business. I need to go back: get consistently OK grades, stay on an even keel for the duration of the course, keep my depression and OCD at bay. There’s not much I can do about the Tourette’s, given that it’s both chronic and incurable.

It’s going to be hard. I have the stereotypical swearing kind of Tourette’s. I will be yelling out “fuck” in lectures. I will find it hard to concentrate. I will inevitably be a distraction to myself and others.

But, unlike my BA in French and Spanish, this course has been a dream for a long time. I will spend a whole twelve months doing what I love: reading and writing. Reading helped me through depressive episodes before, and getting my writing published since leaving university has given me a much-needed self-esteem boost.

And if mental illness has taught me anything, it’s to do what you love, and do it a lot.

So that’s what I’m going to do. I’m determined to go back, and I’m going to smash it.

Alice Franklin is a writer who happens to have Tourette's, OCD and autism. She writes at a leisurely pace, runs at a leisurely pace, and hammocks at a leisurely pace. Previously, her work has appeared in two Spanish short story anthologies, the online magazine Liars' League, and the Financial Times. 

A Journey to Diagnosis

Daisy speaks about her experiences of mental illness at university and eventual diagnosis of autism.

-Daisy Shearer

I’ve suffered from anxiety for as long as I remember but it all came to a fore when I turned 16. With GCSEs over and done with, I started the transition into 6th form and struggled socially. Constantly self-criticising and feeling as if I did not fit in meant that I spiralled into a depression. At this point my body decided to manifest my stress in the form of shingles, giving me a good excuse to not attend school… for 10 weeks. This didn’t help me face my social anxiety and exacerbated my depression. 

I scraped through A-levels and miraculously got offered a place on the physics BSc course at my first choice of University. I had applied for the MPhys course and was on the fence about whether I should take up my place as I had started to doubt whether I was cut out to be a scientist. I decided to go for it.

Moving away from home was hard. I had to learn to look after myself and no longer had the comfort of the routine I was accustomed to back home. My depression worsened and by the end of first year I was considering dropping out. Luckily one of my friends took me to the university counselling service. Although I didn’t realise it, I had become depressed and wasn’t looking after myself properly. I needed a helping hand from somebody who wasn’t in my head to acknowledge that I needed help. I was offered 6 sessions but didn’t go to all of them as, at the time, my anxiety often prevented me from leaving my room. At the end of second year I got the grades to transfer onto the MPhys which I had originally applied to; I began to think that I could be a scientist after all. 

The MPhys included a year-long placement in industry and I chose a placement close to my family home. With another big change my depression got a lot worse, but this time my family was immediately around me for support. My mum accompanied me to the GP where I was prescribed antidepressants and referred to a psychiatrist. At last I was diagnosed: I had generalised anxiety, recurrent depression and mild OCD symptoms. 7 months later, I was diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder. 

I applied for Disabled Students Allowance for my final semester and got examination adjustments plus a specialist mentor. My mood began to stabilise, and I developed techniques to manage what I now recognised as sensory overload. The adjustments made a huge difference to my results and in July 2018 I graduated from my MPhys with first-class honours! I was also offered a PhD project at Surrey. Now I’m a PhD student I have psychodynamic therapy fortnightly and prioritise my mental wellbeing. I’m more confident, self-assured and have fewer invasive thoughts as time goes on.

So, what should you do if you find things aren’t going to plan and you feel helpless?

• Take opportunities that come your way 

• Seek help if you can

• If you can’t bring yourself to access support services, ask a friend to accompany you, or seek out online counselling

• Never give up! Managing mental health conditions can be an uphill battle and takes time

• Build a support system- this can be family, friends, mental health professionals etc.

• Use online resources like Student Minds- read other people’s stories and explore what support is available.

For more information and advice on finding support, click here. 

Hi, I'm Daisy. I'm a first year PhD student in physics studying quantum technologies and spintronics. I graduated with an MPhys from the University of Surrey in 2018. I've suffered with anxiety and depression for many years and was recently diagnosed with autism. I wanted to share my experience on the Student Minds blog to help raise awareness about the support available to students.

I'm always happy to help discuss mental health as well as accessibility, equality & diversity so feel free to get in contact with me @DaisyShearer on Twitter or @notesfromthephysicslab on Instagram

Nothing Compares to You - The Harmful Habit of Self-Comparison

It is important that we have a sense of self-worth that exists beyond our relation to others.

- Harry 

In everyday life, we constantly make comparisons. Putting one thing against another enables us to notice differences, make choices, and make sense of the world. However, when it comes to comparing ourselves to others, this can be very problematic. Although a competitive instinct and a desire to be the best can be a good motivator, basing our self-worth on how we relate to those around us is a precarious source of self-esteem that can have significant effects on our mood, our concentration, and our wellbeing. This is especially the case at university, where academic assessments, sports, job applications and other occasions for comparison are common. It is therefore crucial that we become aware of the intimate connection between self-comparison and mental health.

One of the most common factors that we compare at university is our intelligence. Surrounded by other talented people, it is easy to obsess over where we rank and make judgements on our own intelligence accordingly. Personally, my academic ability was always the source of my self-esteem. I came to university having done well at school and assumed I would be just as successful in higher education. However, I soon discovered that I was just one among many intelligent students. Although my grades weren’t bad, I was concerned with the fact that others were doing a lot better than me both academically and in terms of managing their workload. In comparison, I felt like I was failing. By relying on how I compared to others to discern my self-worth, I found myself feeling worthless and eventually this led to difficulties with anxiety and depression. If I hadn’t been so preoccupied with how others were doing and realised that I was doing perfectly fine, my mental wellbeing would have been much better.

Social media also has a large part to play in our tendency to compare ourselves. We are now so much more aware of where people are and what they are doing, which means that it’s easier than ever to compare our lives to theirs. If you’re feeling down or having trouble in your life, then scrolling through your news feed to see these artsy photos of friends smiling and having fun is likely to make you feel worse. What’s more, we often forget that these photos have been edited and framed, with the specific intention of depicting people in the most positive and flattering way, making our comparison to them all the more damaging to our self-esteem.

So what can we do to prevent self-comparison and take care of our mental health? I am not trying to say that we shouldn’t notice what others around us are doing or that we shouldn’t use social media; having an online presence is almost inevitable nowadays and seeing the achievements of others can be inspiring. But it is important that we have a sense of self-worth that exists beyond our relation to others. Setting personal goals, recording progress when learning a skill, and knowing what you want to achieve with your time is key and provides a much healthier source of self-esteem. As for social media, while reducing the time you spend online will lessen its impact on your wellbeing, maintaining a sense of what is real and what is manufactured is more crucial if you want to use social media in a healthy way.

Everyone has strengths and weaknesses, good moments and bad moments. It’s about time we put less energy into thinking about the lives of others and more effort into nurturing and recognising the talents and value that we have to offer.

Hi I'm Harry! I'm a fourth year English and French student at Durham. University has been a brilliant experience from the very beginning, but it as brought about some very difficult times for me too, forcing me to confront issues with anxiety and depression. Getting through these times would not have been possible without the family, friends and other support offered to me, so I want to help develop the community of people talking about mental health and finding ways to support one another.

You can find more support on starting university here and how to maintain your mental wellbeing during exam season here. 

‘But I’m not depressed enough’: Don’t wait for crisis point to seek help

Romana writes about her experiences of mental health difficulties and the importance of recognising the signs, speaking up early and asking for help.

- Romana

‘By allowing myself to reach such a low point of my life before I finally got help, I made my recovery so much harder than it needed to be’.

I always knew that I was probably a little depressed. I displayed plenty of symptoms; low mood and self-esteem, avoiding social events, feelings of emptiness, self-harm. But, I was in a good relationship, I had good friends, and often, I was genuinely quite happy. Plus, I argued that because I didn’t match every symptom, I was probably coping fine. I didn’t struggle to concentrate. I was quite often tired, yes, but that was probably normal. And I definitely wasn’t suicidal. ‘There are people out there who are really struggling’, I thought, ‘I’m not depressed enough’. 

However, a friend urged me to visit a counsellor. I went, and I started a 6-week course of CBT. Although this was probably the right thing to do, I didn’t really engage with the therapy. I liked sitting down and talking to somebody about my thoughts, but I made no effort outside of the sessions. I didn’t attempt the activities that the therapist recommended. I didn’t journal my thoughts and feelings, or push myself to go to any social events. I just thought: I don’t need to have my life organised by a counsellor, I’m not depressed enough’.

When therapy ended, I carried on as I had been. I’m hardworking, so I spent a lot of time at university studying. I didn’t join any societies, I didn’t do any sports, and I definitely didn’t socialize if I could help it. Instead I would mostly just work alone in my room. I was putting immense pressure on myself to succeed and, coupled with my consistent low mood, it became a very delicate emotional balance; one which was nearly at tipping point. 

During exam season, I was confident. But then one day, I was having lunch alone, and I had a terrible panic attack. I was terrified: it felt like my entire mind and existence were falling away from me. Sitting in bed with a cup of tea afterwards, I had another. Then, that evening during dinner, another. My mind connected the dots in the wrong places, and I blamed mealtimes for this awful panic that I was feeling. The obvious solution seemed to stop eating. By my final exam, I was weak, overwhelmingly anxious, and felt like I might break down at any second. Somehow, I made it through the two-hour exam, but by the next day I had been taken home from university very ill. 

I spent the entire summer attempting to recover, trying to crawl out of the hole that I had fallen into. The hardest part was overcoming my fear of eating. I was referred to the psychiatric liaison team at the hospital, and then to the depression and anxiety service. At this point, I was really struggling. I felt helpless, and without hope. I found it hard to envision my future anymore, and struggled to fathom how I could ever be happy again. Gradually, my wellbeing improved over the three months of summer, and I was able to return to university for my final year. 

To get to where I am now has been such a long and difficult journey. By allowing myself to reach such a low point of my life before I finally got help, I made my recovery so much harder than it needed to be. Rather than accepting the help of a therapist early on, or reaching out and talking to my parents about how I felt, it took letting myself completely break down before I finally believed that I was depressed enough for help. 

The reality is: any behaviour, thoughts or feelings that are out of the ordinary for you are worth your attention. Whether your diet and sleep patterns are suffering; or you can’t find the energy to socialize anymore; or maybe sometimes your mind wanders to dark places. Ask yourself why this is happening, and make an effort to change it. It is so important not to ignore how you’re feeling, just because you don’t match all the symptoms, or because you don’t believe that your problems are valid enough. Maintaining a positive wellbeing is always important, and I can’t emphasize enough how important it is to speak up and ask for help as soon as you notice that something is wrong. 

You can find more support on depression here, anxiety here, and eating disorders here. 

My name is Romana, and I am a fourth year Maths student at the University of Exeter. I have never been one to open up about my struggles with mental health, but I have decided to write for the Student Minds blog as a way to express and understand what I have been going through, as well as to hopefully bring reassurance to others who are feeling as I have.

Talk Club: asking for help

Michael writes about what the film Fight Club can teach us about mental health.

- Michael

Fighting Myself

For a long time, I found Uni really tough. It was definitely made tougher though, I see now, by my total reluctance to ask for help. I suffered in silence, spiralling into despair as I increasingly struggled to fight my own thoughts. I remember a concerned staff member speaking to me. They suggested that I should go to the counselling service. “There is no point going to counselling”, I told them dismissively. ‘It’s a waste of time’. “I don’t want to talk about it, I just want to do something!” This desire for action at times of difficulty is understandable and it can, of course, be very healthy to take appropriate action to change certain circumstances in your life if they are causing you excess stress and distress. But it can become damaging if, like me, this desire to do something stops you from wanting to face up to, and talk about, your feelings. Taking action is not the problem here – but viewing action as a ‘quick fix’ to our emotional problems can cause problems if it stops us from talking about them. By reflecting on the film Fight Club, I hope to show how destructive prioritising action over talking can be (especially for men) and why we shouldn’t be dismissive about asking for help.

Fighting the Expectations

I think men can be particularly susceptible to this view (due, in large part, to the emotionally repressive barriers to talking about feelings imposed by the ‘rules’ of masculinity – I have posted on this before). I certainly remember having some vague (and false) preconception that, when times are hard, women talk about it and men deal with it on their own. Research suggests that men are less likely to talk to a friend, family member or professional about their mental health, and are less likely to value, seek or access talking therapies than women - tending, instead, towards self-destructive and harmful behaviours (see www.menshealthforum.org.uk).

Fight Club

Fight Club, on the surface, seemed to suggest the perfect outlet to me; a form of therapy based solely on action and not talking (after all, the first rule of Fight Club is that ‘you do not talk about Fight Club’). For me, the film symbolised an easy way to express difficult emotions that was, at last, actually permitted, indeed encouraged, by the rules of masculinity. In the film, as in my own mind at the time, fight club was man therapy (contrasted with the supposedly futile and feminised talking therapies in the opening scenes). It was not necessarily that I wanted to fight (although there were times when I projected my internal fight onto external sources). It was more that I just wanted to do something, anything, to break out of and distract myself from my own thoughts, no matter how much pain it brought. In Fight Club, having fought, the character’s problems seem muted, insignificant even. They claim to feel better and more self-aware. But, as the group mutates into an anti-capitalist terrorist organisation, the film shows us how the therapy offered by fight club can be dangerous and illusionary. By the end, the two protagonists have morphed into an alter-ego fighting each other. Their fight is self-destructive. In the same way, by refusing to ask for help and trying to take action to fight my feelings on my own, I was only fighting myself.

Talk Club

After finally seeking professional help, I now have a different view of counselling and talking about feelings more generally. We shouldn’t dismiss talking as inferior to action, because talking is itself a form of action. By this, I mean that when I eventually did talk to someone, it opened up new positive actions that, trapped in my own self-destructive thought patterns, hadn’t occurred to me before. Talking (and indeed blog writing) helped me to (re)order my thoughts and reach a new understanding of the experiences that I was finding tough. Fight the stigma not yourself: speak out and ask for help.

About Michael:

Hi, I'm Michael. I'm a postgraduate student at Durham. I want to write for Student Minds to share my own experiences of depression and anxiety and tackle the stigma around mental health.Some useful links if you're looking for support:Nightline - Student Listening signposting service, who can help you on your way to finding support. Find your uni Nightline ​here HopeLineUK - phone service for young people, staffed by professionals T: 08000684141 E: ​pat@papyrus-uk.org

How Being Mindful of My Judgements of Others Helped Me Manage Anxiety

Ethan explores how mindfulness, while not always the quick and easy solution to mental health struggles it is often claimed to be, helped him with his depression and anxiety.

- Ethan

I’m sure we’ve all heard of the word ‘mindfulness’ by now, a very popular buzzword that is often presented as a quick solution to many common mental health struggles. But, because of how often mindfulness is portrayed as a seemingly effortless solution, it can be frustrating when our issues are not immediately solved upon a first attempt to be mindful. As a result, to many, it can seem like a futile exercise. 

Before starting University, intrigued by this illusive practice that promised to make me happier, I picked up one of many books on mindfulness: G. Hasson’s ‘Mindfulness: Be mindful. Live in the moment.’As I was reading through it, it all seemed to make sense; take time to breathe, don’t let your thoughts run wild, and keep calm when facing new situations. Even though this all sounded very idealistic and unachievable, I began to dedicate periods of time to mindfulness – like a form of meditation but while doing other things – into my life. 

However, after coming to university and facing struggles with depression and constant self-deprecating thoughts, living a mindful life couldn’t have seemed more unrealistic. I became very fixated on my appearance, as it was something I could use to control how people viewed me and to hide how I really felt. Before leaving my room, I would first shower, then meticulously iron my clothes and lather my hair with gel, not allowing one hair to be out of place. 

This constant self-criticism and surveillance of my appearance didn’t end when I got ready for the day. Leaving my room only ramped-up my anxiety. Not feeling great about your appearance doesn’t pair well with having low confidence with what’s on the inside too. I also found that if I caught myself judging other people on the way they looked, talked, or presented themselves, I would evoke a feeling of guilt in myself. I felt horrible about how quickly my mind leapt to judgments of others; it was unfair of me to label them, or think less of them, and doing so, in turn, made me think less of myself. 

It was at this time that I began trying again to incorporate more bursts of mindfulness into my life, but nothing too significant or frustrating to overwhelm myself. I began simply being mindful of my judgments of others before I even began to try to be mindful of my own thoughts or life. Of course, it is difficult at first to control the judgments that pop into our heads. At first, I tried my best to pass positive judgments on others. Perhaps I would identify a nice piece of clothing, or the happy mood they appeared to be in, without being too envious of either. I then began to try to imagine and empathise with the identity struggles that they may also be facing. I found it beneficial to just look at each person as a human trying to get by, rather than the veil that they presented themselves behind. 

After practicing this more, and guilting myself less for judging others, I had found a beneficial way to practice mindfulness. I felt like I had imposed some sense of control over my thoughts, rather than letting them run riot as it is so easy for us to do. I could then put this into practice with my own appearance, negative thoughts, and stressful situations, helping me to manage my anxious thoughts a bit more each day. 

Hey, I'm Ethan! Having not found the past few years a breeze, as few people do, and struggling along the journey to know myself and where I'd like for my life to take me, I thought I'd share my experiences and the lessons I've learnt from for others going through similar struggles, in hope that you also get a better idea of how you want to experience life. I'm currently studying Philosophy and Politics at UEA.

Secrets, Shame, and Sharing your Story

Andrew explores why it took him time to open up about his mental health struggles, and why he resists being labelled as 'disabled'.

- Andrew

I was diagnosed with depression at seventeen years old. Fortunately for me I have friends who, at the time, convinced me that I needed to tell my parents something wasn’t right in my head. In my first appointments with many psychiatrist and psychologists I was told the same thing, almost word for word: ‘there is a chemical imbalance in your brain’ and ‘you aren’t producing enough serotonin’. During that time of regularly seeing a psychologist and psychiatrist, taking my daily medication (SSRI’s), there were only a handful of people who knew I had depression. My depression was something which made me ashamed.

While I was at university, I decided I wanted to keep it to myself and not tell the university. That was, until I reached my final year and was required to complete a final project. After a few mental breakdowns in the computer labs, I decided to tell my lectures and seek help. I was then directed to ‘Disability Services’. I can remember being on the phone to one of the university employees who help ‘disabled students' and I cried afterwards. He was extremely nice, but it felt devastating. Being labelled as ‘disabled’ really set me back. I can understand their reasoning for sending me to ‘Disability Services’, but it’s not the type of thing a 23-year-old wants to hear.

I had a few opportunities to open up about my depression. One occasion came when I was offered to share my story with a charity called Baytr back home in Australia, but I wasn’t ready and was just changing my medication. But once university finished, I felt free and didn’t feel the need to wear a ‘disabled’ label. 

Just before I moved to the UK, I sat down with the founder of Batyr for coffee in Sydney. He told me about Student Minds and said I should get in touch. When I eventually made the move to the UK, I decided I wasn’t going to let my depression define me. Writing my first blog for Student Minds in April 2017 was the first real moment I felt comfortable and fine with people knowing that I have depression. I even told my current employers about my mental health when I was offered my job.

Now I have regular sit downs with my managers at work and talk about my counselling, my workload, my mental health and if there is any way they can help me if I’m struggling. I can’t thank enough all those people who have given me support and so much positive feedback. I’ve learnt that being depressed isn’t something to be ashamed of, and it shouldn’t define you. In the last month, I have turned to yoga and crossfit to ‘exercise my demons’, as well as reading books about the human consciousness to retrain my brain to be more positive. 

Really, my journey has only just begun.

I am a twenty-five-year-old Aussie bloke; atfer buying my one-way ticket and making the big move, I came into contact with Student Minds and applied for their Fundraising Champions initiative earlier this year, and when I was elected, my head filled up with ideas on how I can help break down this mental health stigma. I wanted to start by sharing my story with Student Minds and the extended mental health community.

Recognising behaviours caused by my personality, not depression

When in a state of depression, I was confused about why I felt how I did. Until I discovered that I had been neglecting certain aspects of my personality, causing me to feel depressed.

- Ethan

Starting University was, as it is for everyone, a significant shock to the system for me, as well as a far greater learning curve than I had ever expected it to be so early on. With no-one to keep an eye on you and little accountability for not attending lectures, it quickly becomes very easy to hide yourself away in your room, with only your thoughts for company.

After what I thought to be a great start to University, seemed to end very abruptly as hiding away in my room became my daily experience of University. Behaviours and mindsets that would come and go throughout Sixth Form quickly returned in what felt like a far less temporary state of being.

When this state continued, feeling as though it would never leave, and hope rapidly faded away, I concluded that I must have depression. Looking back on it now, I don't retract that I was indeed in a state of depression, though I now disagree that I was at all clinically depressed. This is easy to see now. However, at the time, I struggled to find justification for this. Admittedly, I did have reason to be upset following what had happened in my first term, but why I battled to get out of bed each morning and instead continued to sleep throughout the day repeatedly over an extended period of time was a mystery. I felt guilty for the feelings I had; selfish and ungrateful. And ashamed of the way I was; lazy and wasting my potential.

Throughout the time I kept to myself, I had an abundance of time to look within, reflecting on my life and where it was headed. With a negative cloud tainting my thoughts, it was difficult to draw any conclusions for myself. It was then I remembered the MBTI (Myers-Briggs Type Indicator) Personality Test that my flatmates and I had messed around with towards the start of University. Having taken the test twice at this time, I never looked too much into it, as the results I had received didn't seem to reflect my personality at all; although it had seemed far more accurate for my flatmates.

In the dark months of winter in the early hours of the morning, I decided to give the test another try. This time I really thought about my answers, being as true to myself as I could, and not answering the questions based on the person I wanted and pretended to be as I had done so before.

My personality type came through as INFJ, the rarest personality type, making up less than 1% of the world’s population. The deeply comprehensive breakdown of my personality revealed why I struggled to open up to and connect with others, why I was sensitive to criticism and overly analytical of myself, and why I have a tendency to suppress emotions, lashing-out unexpectedly. Through neglecting certain aspects of my personality that I had put down to being caused by depression, it became clear that I had instead caused myself to become depressed.

Discovering my personality type did not, of course, instantly solve my depressive state, but being aware of certain behaviours of my personality meant I could better cope with and prevent them. The more positive aspects of my personality were also made clear to me, meaning I could better find a path to help me feel more fulfilled throughout my life. I strongly recommend anyone struggling with their identity to take the MBTI Test in order to aid them in their journey towards living more truly to yourself.

Hey, I'm Ethan! Having not found the past few years a breeze, as few people do, and struggling along the journey to know myself and where I'd like for my life to take me, I thought I'd share my experiences and the lessons I've learnt from for others going through similar struggles, in hope that you also get a better idea of how you want to experience life. 

I'm currently studying Philosophy and Politics at UEA

The Importance of Self-Care as a Student Nurse

Jess shares her experience of being a second year student nurse while juggling self-care and trying to find a healthy work-life balance.

- Jess

As a student nurse you're taught from day one about the importance of compassion, care and empathy towards patients, and reminded to look after yourself as well. However, in reality fitting self-care into a busy routine can be very difficult.

As a mature student I already had a well-established job, my own home and a long-term relationship under my belt. I'd established my foundations but felt that it was time for me to do my nurse training. When I started my course however, I became increasingly anxious; I felt uncomfortable and self-conscious and was thinking too far ahead into the future.

I'm an inward thinker but my thoughts started to keep me awake at night. The constant overthinking began to have a negative impact on myself, so I decided that because my nursing means so much to me, that I couldn't let my anxiety take control and I started seeing a counsellor.

Initially I kept things to myself, I'd never been great at talking about my feelings and because I've always managed to appear composed, I felt like I could continue in that way. I'd stay composed when I needed to and then try and deal with the fallout in private, alone.

I felt like I was living two separate lives. I had the professional, hardworking side that was exceeding my own and other’s expectations. Then this other side of me that behind closed doors, had never cried so much, worried as excessively, or felt as deeply unhappy.

Counselling helped me gradually with being able to gain some control back. It took a long time as progress was slow but eventually it became less intense. However, I couldn't see that as the anxiety lessened because I'd subtly gone into overdrive. Alongside clinical placements and studying, I was working part time, and my relationship reached its conclusion; I had no time to see friends or take time out and I wasn't looking after myself. The worst part is that I didn't care either.

My appetite disappeared, I couldn't muster the brainpower to make simple decisions like what to eat. I was managing on very little sleep and eventually I was running on empty, and unsurprisingly my mood plummeted. I heard people saying I looked unwell, but I didn't listen, not until it became more frequent and I decided that whilst counselling was helping, I needed to see my GP and admit that I'd become depressed.

I didn't want to start medication, but I needed to. Thankfully I had a positive experience with my GP. He listened attentively, empathised with me and acknowledged that I was genuinely at a low point and struggling.

Slowly I started to open up to people around me, don't get me wrong I didn't start shouting it from the rooftops but I did talk to people I trust, and admitting I was struggling started to lift some of the shame and guilt I felt.

Looking back, it's as though I had to learn the hard way to recognise the importance of taking care of my own mental and physical health. I can't effectively care for others if I'm not taking the time to be compassionate towards myself.

I know there'll be times when I struggle in the future, but I've gained invaluable coping skills from counselling. I have a stable base with medication and know now that it's ok for me to say when I'm struggling and that it doesn't mean I won't become a good nurse. If anything it allows me to be more empathetic towards those that I will look after throughout my career.

My name is Jess and I'm currently studying Adult Nursing at the University of Bradford. I wanted to share my experience because it's difficult to admit you're struggling with your mental health when your chosen profession focuses so much on looking after others, making self-care very difficult at times. Hopefully this will help other nursing students to look after themselves throughout their training

Unfortunately

- Michael Rigby

Many of us know the word, “unfortunately”. It’s a word that tends to mean rejection. For example, when applying for that job, we wait days/weeks for a reply from the company we think we would like to work for and the unaccountable amount of times majority of applicants who will or have received the word “unfortunately” can have a major impact on someone’s own belief within themselves.

Meaning, when receiving that rejection email/letter can sometimes make you feel like you’re not good enough. I can say that it had an effect on myself, I’ve applied for that opportunity which I feel would be a perfect fit for me. However, I wasn’t picked. Yes, I became very depressed etc.. because I wasn’t given the opportunity. For a while, I wondered what I had to be doing so I could be picked next time.

Despite, all of that. I’ve realised that I shouldn’t wait for those people to pick me. We have the time to work on ourselves and improve our abilities which would make those companies want to pick us. 

The word, “unfortunately”. It’s not a meaning of failure. It means we all have the chance to make ourselves stronger and smarter. I’ve experienced rejection, I did get depressed about it but it’s made me stronger. I now know what I actually want to pursue in life because of those set-backs. 

Therefore, never let yourself get depressed about not being chosen. Use the opportunity to build something for yourself. Whatever, it may be. Doesn’t matter who you are, we have the chance in our hands already. Take that risk.

That opportunity that, “unfortunately” you weren’t accepted for could actually be a blessing in disguise. 

Keep going and never give up.

Hi, I'm Michael Rigby and I study Sports Business and Broadcasting at UCFB Wembley. I have experienced mental illness, including depression and social anxiety since the age of 14.

Volunteering and Mental Health

Emily celebrates volunteering week by sharing how taking part can be beneficial to our mental and emotional health and wellbeing. 

- Emily

Each year, Volunteers’ Week is celebrated nationally from the 1st until the 7th of June. It aims to recognise and to celebrate those who give their time freely to a cause that they are passionate about. Volunteering as a university student can come in many forms – charity shop work, blogging, working with young children or older people in the wider community, social media volunteering… the list is endless. Volunteering isn’t a one-way street and there are lots of benefits for the volunteer. Aside from being a real opportunity to use existing skills, as well as to develop new skills, volunteering is a brilliant chance to boost your CV and gain work experience whilst at university. However, volunteering is also extremely beneficial to our mental and emotional health and wellbeing.

Here are some reasons as to why and how this is:

• Volunteering helps to reduce depression – it is a way to increase social interaction. Depression can be a lonely and isolating experience, but volunteering is a way to counteract this and to build a support system.
• It also reduces stress levels – there is no doubt that university is extremely stressful at times. Volunteering gives you a real sense of meaning and appreciation, which thus helps you to feel calmer.
• Volunteering helps to keep things in perspective – volunteering to help people who are less fortunate than yourself can give you a different outlook on life and help you to view your own life with a more positive mind set.
• It makes the world a happier place in which to live – acts of kindness undertaken through volunteering have a real potential to make the world a much happier and nicer place. It encourages others to do good deeds, which therefore leads to a more positive community.
• Doing more for others means that you are doing more for yourself – this might sound a little complicated, but it isn’t. By volunteering, giving your time and doing good things for other people, you’re also doing something for yourself too. Volunteering helps you to build up a ‘kindness bank’ so to speak of special memories that can be reflected on positively in the future. 

Being a volunteer myself, I can assure others that these are true benefits of volunteering, and that this list is certainly not exhaustive of the many more benefits that volunteering can have on mental health. I really enjoy volunteering – it makes me feel as though I am doing something worthwhile and positive for things that I strongly believe in and am passionate about.

I would definitely recommend that students get involved with volunteering during their time at university.

“The greatest gift you can give someone is your time because when you give your time, you are giving a portion of your life that you will never get back.” 

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.

You Didn't Fail Anyone

Rachel shares her experience of how even through tough times, mental health difficulties do not have to limit your success. 

- Rachel

I was eleven when my Granddad passed away. 

One conversation with him in those last few months stuck with me. 

At eleven, I had already decided I wanted to be a writer, and when Granddad told me he wanted me to go to Oxford to study English, I informed him that was already a part of My Life Plan.

(I was a cocky, annoying eleven-year-old.)

I never expected to spend time bouncing in and out of doctor’s offices, hospitals, and psychiatric wards, but I did. My focus, grades, and attendance all dropped. 

My Life Plan inevitably collapsed. 

I would later be diagnosed with anxiety, depression and ADHD, which would also add to the development of Emotionally Unstable (or Borderline) Personality Disorder. While I won't go into the details of these disorders, they had a massive effect on my life, particularly in my first year of University.  I barely attended anything in my first term and resigned myself to failure. I didn't submit assignments or make many friends, and mostly just drank alone. I wasn't in Oxford. I didn't have three A-Levels. I didn't have a good relationship with practically anyone. I eventually dropped out of first year entirely. 

I was living the opposite to My Life Plan.

I convinced myself that I was a failure, and that I had no value to anyone. I no longer even thought of the future, as if it wasn't going to be perfect, I believed I wouldn't have one at all. But there isn't a time limit on success. I thought that I had to have everything together by the time I was twenty-five, otherwise I'd failed. I was so full of guilt, I was ready to throw away my whole life. But along with psychiatric help and medication, I slowly began to understand my mental state, and get myself out of it. 

A symptom of EU/BPD is 'black and white thinking', AKA seeing a situation as entirely good or entirely bad. While this can be a symptom of EU/BPD, I believe it's something many people can relate to.

'If I can't be the best at something, why do it at all?'

'If I don't succeed, then I have failed.'

I saw myself as only a failure over that first year after dropping out of university. Ultimately, I learned that even at your absolute worst, you're still capable of good. I forced myself to accept the fact that I had done bad things, but I was still capable of change. My future didn't have to be empty. 

The world isn't goodies vs baddies. You aren't successful or unsuccessful. 

I'm now back in University, breaking for summer after first year. No, I may not be in Oxford. I didn't get all of my A Levels. It's likely that I'll continue to deal with mental health symptoms for a while yet. I've had to defer some of my assignments due to my health this year.

That's okay. 

I'm sure my Granddad would have loved it if I did achieve My Life Plan by twenty-five.

But I bet he wanted me to be kind, hardworking and happy even more.

Hello! I’m Rachel, a 19 year old Creative Writing student originally from Wales, currently studying at DeMontfort in Leicester. I am diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, ADHD, anxiety and depression. 

It’s Easier to Run

Michael discusses how he uses running to as a way to cope with depression and anxiety.

-Michael

For a long time I struggled with depression and social anxiety and my two ways of coping with these feelings, avoidance and distraction. Now, having learned how unhelpful these behaviours are for my mental health, I have developed a new way of coping, running, which has been massively beneficial for my wellbeing. Here, I recall the destructive impact of psychologically running away from my feelings through avoidance and distraction, and the benefit of physically running for my mental health.

Firstly, avoidance. I would run away from social contact. I was convinced that people would see me as I saw myself, and whilst I had become numb to my own pain, I found that, around others, I felt an expectation (real or imagined) that I could only disappoint, an intensified self-consciousness and humiliation, and a heightened sense of vulnerability and misplacement. I distanced and isolated myself, pushing away and shutting down anyone that tried to reach out to me.

Second, distraction. I would run through life as fast as I could to try and distract myself from how I was feeling: I was running away from myself. In my desire to distract myself, I became unhealthily occupied by my University studies. For me, study was simultaneously a manifestation, an excuse and a comfort for my isolation; a psychological space to channel my self-dissatisfaction as perfectionism, whilst at the same time being one where I didn’t have to face anyone and where I could pretend to myself and others that my isolation was a choice that I was in control of.

Clearly then, these safety behaviours were destructive. They exacerbated the very feelings and insecurities that I was running away from. I lost both confidence and practice in social situations which simply reinforced my beliefs of inadequacy and misplacement. It’s like the harder I ran away from my feelings, the bigger the shadow that I was running from became and the harder it became to face. It had become a cycle that felt impossible to break out of. Not only this, but in running away from myself and others, I ended up shutting down any opportunity to get help or support. Just as I felt I couldn’t run anymore, I reached the finish line: the line in my life were I was finished. I was finished running and I knew that I had to, with some help, make some changes.

This is why I decided to run the Edinburgh Marathon for Student Minds. I am running, but this time I am running as an enabling and empowering physical activity, not as a destructive psychological defence mechanism. In doing so, I hope both to raise funds for Student Minds and to raise awareness of student mental health issues and the support available. I am still running but now, with the direction and support provided by Student Minds, I am moving forward. Increasing my physical activity has massively benefitted my mental health: I am eating better, sleeping better and have so much more energy to cope with life’s pressures. Sometimes, it’s easier to run.

If you would like to donate, you can do here: https://mydonate.bt.com/fundraisers/michaelpriestley2

Hi, I'm Michael. I'm currently a PhD student at Durham University and wanted to write for Student Minds about my own experiences of depression, anxiety and university life.

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. 

3 Reasons Why We Say "I'm Fine" When We're Not

Grace discusses the importance of being open about our mental health with those close to us.

-Grace

When one replies with the phrase “I’m fine”, it’s undoubtedly one of the biggest (white) lies ever spoken – probably somewhere up there with “I have read the terms and conditions” and “there are sexy singles in your area”.

So, let’s be honest. How many times have you been guilty of saying “I’m fine” when really you’re not? A few? Quite often? Too many times to count? In fact, a survey of 2000 adults commissioned by the Mental Health Foundation (MHF) found the average adult will say “I’m fine” 14 times a week, although just 19% actually mean it. 

So why do we feel this need to falsify that all is dandy, rather than just admitting we have a problem? What impact does this non-committal exchange have on our mental wellbeing and what can we do about it? For this, I propose three theories.

Theory 1: They’re just being polite.

The simple exchange initiated by asking “how are you?” is ritualistic; a social norm learned from a young age, whereby violating it is like prolonged eye-contact while eating a banana – you just don’t do it. It’s an automatic script of sorts, whereby we’ve rehearsed our parts so well, we’re basically Meryl Streep.

While acting out this well-mannered illusion of checking in on one another, we’re actually gaining as much insight into each other’s state of mind as simply saying “hello.” Unsurprisingly, such superficial – almost-reflexive – questioning and answering means we’re less likely to speak openly and honestly about our mental health, since it is implicit that the other person isn’t actually intent on finding out (or perhaps prepared for) a real answer.

Now, of course saying “I’m fine” can just be convenient. We liberally douse this phrase on one another, especially in lectures or in the library. I guess we must choose our moments with those with whom we can allow our conversations to become more substantive. By returning meaning behind our words, we can seize vital opportunities to both seek and offer support.

Theory 2: You’ve got this! (You really haven’t got this)

My wonderful Grandma says “you can either sink or swim… and I choose to swim”. Whilst there’s something impressive about a person who adamantly solves their own problems, I think we’re fooled by the misconception that if self-reliance is a virtue and that requiring help is a weakness. So, we present a “brave face”. We hide our vulnerabilities. We act like dogs that get stuck in things but pretend everything is ok. We precipitate a culture whereby we won’t discuss our own mental health for fear of judgement.

“Am I the only one who feels this way?” Such self-doubt clouds the reality that we often have common struggles. When I first acknowledged I was struggling with my mental health with my uni personal supervisor, it kind of felt like that moment when someone asks the question in class you thought was too stupid to say out loud. Suddenly you realise you’re not alone, and the question wasn’t silly at all.

Those asking for support are incredibly brave. But sometimes you can’t quite initiate this first step alone. It was after noticing I fell off the uni treadmill following traumatic events that a friend first contacted my personal supervisor on my behalf. Sometimes it’s not “sink or swim”; sometimes you need a lifeboat and she was just that.

Theory 3: We don’t want to burden others

The phrase “I’m fine” can also act as the conversational equivalent of Crocs; swiftly able to shut down any chance of further discussion. Quite often, this defensive action results from a fear of worrying, burdening, or annoying the listener.

Personally, by insisting “I’m fine”, I force myself to be the person I, and others, expect me to be (I’d LIKE to think humorous and enthusiastic…). However, simulating these qualities and engaging in societies whilst depressed is gruelling – sometimes I’d rather just hide away. Exhaustion and isolation is a high price to pay to think (mistakenly) I’m ‘pleasing’ or ‘protecting’ others. It took me a long time to realise that neither have to be an option if you can have an honest conversation. People are more understanding than mental illness lets you believe.

As listeners, as friends, you may not always have the solution or the ability to fully relate – but that’s okay! There are so many services available on campus that are incredibly willing to offer professional support and advice e.g. counselling, student support, supervisors, campus GPs. But what friends do have is time, care and compassion. You hold the ability to reassure each other you can be open and listened to. You also have the capacity to learn what the other may want but won’t ask for, and what they need but didn’t know. Open ear? Cup of tea? It’s the little things too.

Overall, we must push for cultural change in terms of discussing our mental health. Speaking openly and honestly can begin by asking simply, and genuinely, how someone is. As humans, we experience a spectrum of emotions – chances are, you’re probably not just “fine”. It’s okay to say we’re not okay.

Hi, I’m Grace. I’m a final year student studying Psychology at the University of York. This post is the first time I’ve opened up and wrote about my own mental health. After sharing it with my friends, I received lots of love and support and also realised that I'm not alone - hopefully this post can encourage others to do the same!

Applying to University with a Pre-Existing Mental Health Condition

Harriet shares personal experience and tips for applying to University with a pre-existing mental health condition. 

-Harriet

Among the inevitable worry about remembering to pack the right things, successfully finding your lecture rooms without getting lost (I am genuinely yet to master this well into my second year), and making long-lasting and genuine friends, starting university can raise a whole other number of concerns for applicants with pre-existing mental health conditions. 

It is fair to say that mental health issues among university students are fast reaching crisis point; The Guardian’s annual Student Experience Survey demonstrates that almost nine in ten (87%) of students find it difficult to cope with social or academic aspects of student life. However, as I will demonstrate throughout this article, most universities, alongside services most students are familiar with such as visiting a GP or local counselling schemes, can offer fantastic support for those struggling with mental health issues. 

Personally, I knew well before applying to university that I would struggle with living away from home and keeping up with the pressures of University life due to my long-term anxiety disorder. My advice to those in a similar predicament would be to make the university well aware of your needs as soon as possible, so that adjustments may be made to help you from the outset. 

The counselling service provided at most universities generally offers a high standard service for those who are finding that their difficulties are hard to manage and are affecting their studies. The aim is to aid you in developing skills or allowances so you can experience university life to its full potential. After a discussion with a counsellor about your needs, the service can provide sessions where you are able to choose the focus. Examples of problems people seek help with through the counselling service include anxiety and depression, eating disorders, issues with self-esteem, and homesickness. However, this list is certainly not exhaustive - the counsellors are happy to hear about anything that may be troubling you. I have also found that the Counselling Service at my university provides excellent signposting to external support networks for mental illness, such as self-help podcasts created by The Mental Health Foundation, support publications at Mind, and various helplines.

Equally, the support provided by the Disability Service at university cannot be overstated. I spent the whole of my first year completely unaware that this service supports mental health conditions (which legally classify as disabilities), and have since received so much support with my coping methods at University. For example, if the assessors deem it beneficial to you and your needs, provisions can be made to inform both your pastoral support team and academic tutors of your difficulties so that they may better support you, as well as the possibility of equipment to facilitate note-taking and time management, and the provision of mental health mentors to assist your personal needs.

It is also worth noting that many student accommodation facilities have a dedicated welfare team, intended to provide support and be a friendly face to any student that needs it. There is also Nightline, a widespread service, which provides a student-run listening service every night of term between 9pm and 7am. 

As I am well aware from experience, this may seem intimidating at first, but it is honestly not worth struggling unnecessarily when there is so much support available. Living away from home for the first time can be challenging at first, so be sure to make the most of the support available to you.

Hi, I’m Harriet! I’m a student at Durham University and I’m currently on my year abroad. I am passionate about removing the stigma attached to mental health issues, and truly place so much value in the power of the sharing of writing online to do so. 

Doing University Teetotal

Becky writes about ways of approaching University life alcohol free.

- Becky Reed

University years are often positioned as a time to get blind drunk several times a week and wake up not knowing what on earth happened the night before. For some people that's great, but for some of us, drinking at university is a no-go, whether that is for cultural reasons, personal preference, or because of medical reasons. This, especially when starting uni, can be quite daunting. 

Two months before starting university I was prescribed anti-depressants that would be dangerous to consume alcohol with. If I had not been moving to university in a couple of months, being forced to become teetotal would not have been a problem. I had never been a big drinker - I just liked to have a drink now and again with friends (sometimes to make me more confident). But, because of the drinking culture that surrounds university, I became very anxious about not being able to drink. I thought I would be the only one at uni that didn't drink. I thought everyone would think I was boring, and therefore that I would not make any friends. 

I spoke about my worries with my therapist, parents, and close friends. This was really helpful, but I cannot pretend that their advice took all the anxiety away. It did, though, help me come up with a bit of a plan of how to approach the subject with my new flat mates and friends at university.

I was adamant that I did not want them to know I had a mental illness. At this point, I hadn't come to terms with my diagnosis and was crippled (wrongly) by embarrassment, shame and guilt. Therefore, I came up with these options. Please have a think about which one would work best for you, should you find yourself in a similar situation. 

1. Tell them you are on medication (even if you're not). This was the option I went with. Partly because it was true, but also because I didn't believe anyone would argue with this. I told them I was on medication because I had become physically ill over the summer (this was actually true, but this wasn't the medication that stopped me drinking). From my experience, people respect this, and the majority of the time they tend not to ask any more questions.

2. Tell them you are on antibiotics. This is similar to the above, however, just be aware you can probably only keep this one up for a couple of weeks.

3. Tell them you don't like it. This is a perfectly reasonable option to go with. There is nothing wrong with not enjoying it. Hopefully people will respect this, but some may try and encourage you more than you may like. 

4. Always get your own drink. You could pretend you have put an alcoholic beverage into your soft drink.

5. Always volunteer to be the designated driver: Obviously, this will only work if you have a car and actually need transport to get to wherever you're going.

6. Tell them the truth. This is daunting I know. I couldn't even begin to contemplate this option - I didn't know how people I had only just met would react. This said, you have nothing to be ashamed of, and if people react negatively, this shows more about them than it does about you. 

Ok, so you have told your new university friends that you are teetotal. Now the next challenge… how do you enjoy university to the same extent as everyone else? It is 100% possible, I promise.

1. Get involved with activities that don't involve drinking. For example, join a society so you can meet like-minded people.

2. Encourage your new friends to meet up for a meal. A lot of emphasis can be put on going out at uni, but by organising a daytime activity it can be an ideal way to catch up with friends without feeling guilty for not drinking.

3. Don't be afraid to go on nights out sober. Ok, so the likelihood is that the majority of students will drink, but, this does not mean you can't still have fun with them. The thought of socialising can be terrifying at the best of times, and you may wish you could just have a drink to help you relax. I would just say to try this a few times. See how it makes you feel. Maybe discuss it with someone you meet at uni and get on with.

4. Don't be afraid to say no. Know your limits and what keeps you healthy. If you don't want to go out… don't. If you don't want to drink… don't. You could tell the truth, or make up an excuse. Have a think about what works for you.  Please at no point feel pressure. If they are your true friends, they will understand.

Whenever you're worried that you should be drinking for whatever reason, just remember you're not going to wake up with a stinking hangover in the morning!


Hey, I’m Becky. I’m a final year student studying Sport and Social Sciences at the University of Bath. I have been living with generalised anxiety for a number of years, and have, more recently, suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and episodes of severe depression. I wanted to write for Student Minds to show there’s light at the end of the tunnel, no matter how dark it seems.'