Member-only story
Why I Withdrew From University
My path to grad school
“Cece?” the text read, illuminating my face in the 2am darkness, “Do you mind keeping it down?”
I swore quietly. It was the middle of a cold night in winter. For hours, I’d been sitting at my desk, crying into the phone with a friend from high school. I hated it here, I told her. My roommates were against me, and my professors didn’t like me. Nowhere I went was safe, and I constantly worried people were following me, listening in on my conversations.
I spent my days sleeping through classes only to wake up in the middle of the night to go to the gym, then go back to sleep. I didn’t eat much of anything other than pre-workout and protein shakes, and I’d lost a concerning amount of weight. One thing I did plenty, however, was drink alcohol. I had an open handle on my desk, and I took swigs directly from it as I cried into the phone.
“Sorry,” I texted my roommate. I quietly told the friend on the phone that I had to go, I wanted to go to sleep. But I didn’t go to sleep. I sat at my desk until the sun came up, staring at the wall.
Symptoms of mental illness started early for me. Looking back, I think I displayed depressive symptoms starting in the third grade. But I had never let my grades suffer. I worked hard throughout high school, determined to get into…
