Maths A-Level + Poor Mental Health = Me
The worst equation of them all.
‘A-Levels are the only way to get to University, and you won’t succeed in life if you don’t go!’ — is all I heard for the entirety of Year 11. Of course, all of this was complete rubbish.
An already troubled sixteen-year-old, I was like many others. Attempting to figure out who I was, who I want to be. For me personally, this was channelled through my ever-changing fashion sense. One day I was wearing all black, with dark bronze eyeshadow, and then other days I would look like a Polly Pocket threw up on me.
I bumbled through my GCSE’s. I got some good grades and was proud of myself. Yet, the questions of ‘what will you take for your A-Levels?’ hung over my head like an eagle circling its prey.
In the end, I decided to take English literature, maths and English language. English language was the only subject that I felt a genuine connection with. I’m not sure whether it was the teachers, or perhaps the method of teaching, but I felt comfortable, intrigued, and confident.
Maths was completely the opposite.
I was never naturally the maths type. I’m sure you’ve always heard people saying, ‘are you a words or numbers person?’, and although I don’t believe it’s not quite that black and white, I definitely leaned to the words end of the spectrum.
I did well in my Maths GCSE, but purely because I had a tutor and worked really hard. So, high on the achievement, I opted for the maths A-Level because I thought: I’ll just do the same again, right?
Now, I’m all for aiming high. Yet, I have also learnt (from this experience) to be a realist. To weigh up the pros and cons, to evaluate a situation in an attempt to reach the best decision. In reality, I never liked maths lessons. I didn’t get a buzz out of getting something right, a sensation I found out was something that apparently people who truly love maths would feel.
Anyway, enough rabbiting on. The A-Level lessons began. I felt somewhat confused from the offset, but I reminded myself that this would be a step up and I just needed to stop jumping to conclusions (another trait that I annoyingly possess).
It wasn’t until the second term, that I began to feel something that I had never felt before. A knot kept appearing in my throat when I walked into the classroom, or even the Maths corridor for that matter. I put it down to usual A-Level stress. Yep — you guessed it, I was wrong.
The workload from both English language and literature was ramping up too. But I felt in control. I would complete the essays set and receive fairly unoffensive feedback.
However, the knot in my throat continued to grow into a knot in my torso, and the knot in my torso turned into a pieced of barbed wire.
I know what you’re probably thinking — ‘why didn’t you just ask for help?’
I can safely say, I did. To be honest, the maths and pastoral staff were good. They listened to my problems and my concerns over the A-Level and somewhat eased the worry I was feeling. Logistically, I was determined to not repeat the year and start a new subject (partly due to my stubbornness), so I continued.
Going into my final year, everything snowballed. I spent twelve hours a day attempting to answer questions through puddles of tears. My brain was strained, tired, and weary. As a result of this, my grades in literature and language were falling.
I felt out of control.
My mum (as mums do) noticed this and offered counselling. I refused profusely. As an eighteen-year-old, I didn’t want counselling! Now I look back, I have absolutely no idea why.
We came to the decision to enrol me on a six-week mindfulness course, and to be quite honest it saved me. Throughout the course, it taught me that I need to accept when something might be out of my control. If I feel myself getting the knot in my throat, I shut my eyes, focus on my breath, and feel my presence as I remind myself that I am safe.
I completed my A-Levels, passing the subjects. Of course, they weren’t the grades I had initially desired, but I learnt so much more in those two years than just algebraic equations.
I learnt that you only have one brain, one brain for life. You need to take care of it. Although mindfulness may not be for you, find your safety. Find something that calms you down, appreciates your place on this weird earth, and makes you realise that the crap you’re dealing with now will always pass.
