Why University Wasn’t “The Time Of My Life”, and Why You Might Be Struggling As A Student
I was so excited about university. It was going to be ‘the time of my life’. Or so ‘they’ said…
They. The films and the relatives and the friends of friends. They told me it’d be one big party. They told me their funny stories and how I was going to have my own funny stories. They told me how they met their best friends at university and they’re still in touch with them today.
I’d scroll through the UCAS website, imagining what each course would be like. They sounded so interesting! Finally, the real stuff. None of this boring secondary school dross. The real, raw, mind-altering studies were about to begin…
Freshers’ week
Then the time came. I arrived. Freshers Week. The BEST part. What happened during MY Fresher’s Week? Well, not much actually. I can barely remember. Not because I was drunk (though I did get obligatorily drunk a few times.) Because it was so… mediocre.
I brushed it off. Maybe I got unlucky. Maybe things pick up after fresher’s week at this university.
They didn’t.
They got worse.
Time for class. Maybe the socialising hasn’t been so good so far, but the learning will make up for that. Surely all the professors were wise old men with beards, reeling off consciousness-expanding theories of human existence and smoking pipes?
My first lecture. The professor told us to open our text books while he turned on an ancient projector. He then began to read, word for word, his slides which were remarkably similar to the text books’. My excitement turned to intense boredom, followed by a heavy dose of disappointment.
‘Oh, so this is not what I was expecting either’ I thought. ‘No matter, I’m sure it’ll pick up in the second or third year.’
It didn’t.
It got worse.
By the time I dropped out of university, having changed my course four times and my university three times, I was broken inside. I hadn’t truly connected with a soul, and I was completely disillusioned not only about university, but life in general.
My mental health issues started at university
I had recurring and intense episodes of depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, insomnia, panic attacks and derealisation. I was lonely and socially isolated. And I thought it was all my fault.
Like a broken record my mind kept repeating itself: ‘There must be something wrong with me. Why haven’t I made any real friends? Why do I keep changing courses? Why can’t I just enjoy the subject I’m studying?’
I tried counselling at two different universities but they were equally ineffective. After waiting weeks for an appointment, both times I was put with middle-aged female counsellors with whom I had a hard time communicating what was actually going on. When I did try, I could tell that they didn’t understand. They couldn’t meet me in the dark recesses of my pain — most likely because they hadn’t been there themselves.
Emotional pain
My emotional pain was so profound that it felt like physical pain. Sometimes it felt as if my heart was having a violent fight with itself, other times it felt like it was burning, and it was usually accompanied by a hollow, sinking feeling.
One day, when this pain was reaching a crescendo, I realised I had to do something or else I would simply have to give up on life — it was too painful. I had looked into support groups and, despite my reluctance to go (I didn’t want to be labelled as ‘one of those people who goes to support groups’) out of sheer desperation I went to one happening that evening.
I’m so glad I did.
Looking back it was one of my first big steps towards unburdening myself of my mental health secrets and setting myself free. When it came for my time to talk, I finally shared some of what was going on inside me, and unexpectedly burst into tears halfway through speaking. I’d never cried in front of a group of people as an adult before. It was scary but liberating.
I went a couple more times to the support group but I quickly outgrew it. I was looking for more than just “support”. I was lonely, and sometimes I just wanted people to hang out with.
Men’s groups
I’d read a couple of personal development books that mentioned men’s groups (No More Mr Nice Guy and Iron John) and I thought I’d give them a shot.
After a quick search I found MenSpeak Men’s Groups. They were perfect for me because life doesn’t have to be bad to come to a men’s group. People came along with all sorts of backgrounds and experiences — and the aim of the group is to share and learn from each others’ experiences in an environment as close to daily life as possible — no melodrama, hocus pocus, experimental therapy or funny stuff.
At the men’s groups there were people who had their sh*t together. And they were the people I wanted to hear from. I didn’t want to sit with a group of people and moan about how bad my life is. I wanted to let go of what wasn’t working and step into a life that brought me happiness and joy.
Only now that I’ve gone through this experience can I see why I found university such a disappointment, and how the real cause of my unhappiness was the expectations I had and beliefs I held about myself.
Why I suffered so much at university
I expected to find friends for life at university. I expected to love the subject I was studying. I expected to somehow “graduate” and feel like a real adult. When reality didn’t meet my expectations, I blamed myself. But I think the truth was I was trying to connect with the wrong people.
I tried to hang out with ‘the cool kids’ — people who were cool, calm, collected, dressed and spoke a certain way, and always stuck to surface banter to conversation about music and films. And these were the type of people I’d hung out with in secondary school — the type of people that are fun to be around but there’s no space for growth, change and differing from the norm.
While having these types of friends had worked in secondary school, I’d changed and I need reality to catch up with that. When I was around ‘cool’ people, I couldn’t show my whole self — my whole self would include mental health problems, fears, intimacy issues, traumas, social awkwardness, spirituality and sexuality, as well as banter and chatting about more superficial stuff.
How I turned things around
I’ve had to reconfigure what I look for in a friend and be open to connecting with people I wouldn’t normally connect with — especially age-wise. Most of my friends now are a fair few years older than me, and that took a while to get used to, but it makes sense now. I need depth, and most people my own age didn’t have it.
It’s been extraordinary to realise that these were the type of people I should’ve been connecting with all along — people who can be honest about what they’re feeling and thinking, as well as exchange insults as a sign of affection!
The men’s groups have been instrumental in my personal growth. At my men’s group we learn from each others’ experiences, good and bad, and we find out that we’re not alone in our struggles.
At one of the early groups I went to I told them in detail about the pain I was going through, thinking that they would be baffled by it. The facilitator said “does anyone else relate?” and about six men of differing ages and backgrounds put their hands up, a few of them saying “yeah I remember going through that. It was awful.”
I was shocked! I thought I was alone (“special”) in my specific kind of suffering. After this moment I was no longer ‘broken’. I was just another human, suffering the things that your average human suffers.
It took a long time and deep emotional work but I’ve now let go of the vast majority of my mental health issues and I feel healthy and emotionally stable. I have built a strong friendship network, most of whom I met at the men’s groups, and I’ve also found my purpose — to facilitate men’s groups in universities.
If you’re wondering why you’re not fitting in at university, or if you feel alienated from those around you, or like you’ve outgrown your old life, then instead of asking the paralysing and unhelpful question “what’s wrong with me?” ask the more important question “what do I need to let go of?”
I’d recommend you find someone who isn’t attached to you staying the same. Find a friend that genuinely wants the best for you — even if it means you outgrow each other. And then experiment with being a new person and ask for feedback.
This is the essence of what we do at my men’s group. We hang out, get real, let go of who we no longer need to be and experiment with who we want to be. If you’re interested come along to our next meeting online or in London — I hope to see you there!
