STARTING UNI WHILST HAVING A CHRONIC ILLNESS

(this article was published in Issue 3 of Bloom Magazine: Academia)

I was diagnosed with CFS/ME when I was only ten years old. The illness leaves you incredibly tired, and no amount of sleep seems to help. Brain fog, achy limbs, headaches, and nausea were just some of the daily symptoms I experienced. From then on, I struggled tirelessly with anxiety, OCD, and depression, feeling like a spectator as my peers got to do things I wasn’t capable of doing. As everyone started secondary school, I could only manage half a day of lessons, returning home to lay in bed for the remainder of the afternoon. It wasn’t until Year 10 that I felt able to return to full-time education and managed to complete my GCSEs and A-Levels with my classmates. But I spent a lot of my time laid in bed, unable to do as much revision as I felt I should have been doing. Because of this, I ended up forcing myself to do work, staying up to perfect my essays, reeling from overworking myself the next day. It was a struggle, but I did it, ending up with a place at the University of Leeds. I didn’t give myself enough credit, I was still annoyed at myself for certain grades, and the fact I couldn’t study a language because I had missed too many lessons at the beginning of school for me to study it at GCSE. My spare time was mainly spent in my bedroom: writing, drawing, collaging, reading, watching films. In many ways I felt unprepared for university. My lack of socialisation during the first few years of secondary meant I only had a handful of friends and felt extremely anxious at the thought of trying to make new ones. My anxiety had prevented me from really letting loose, only being drunk a few times upon starting university.

Arriving at my towering block of flats, staring down at me was my sixteenth floor bedroom window which I looked up to from the carpark surrounded by agitated dads and eager student ambassadors. Everything felt so frightening but equally exciting. I had to hope that I would meet flatmates that understood my illnesses, that wouldn’t make me feel excluded or like a burden. Taking the lift to my floor, I reached Flat 193, and was overwhelmed by the view of the city that spanned miles and miles. At dark the city lit up like a busy night sky, and I knew I was going to be okay. I was just one amongst thousands, and not the only one with a chronic illness and poor mental health. If my flatmates didn’t understand there were bound to be others in the city who would. Luckily, I met the greatest group of friends in my flatmates, who understood my needs and helped me get ready for my first ever night out.

The unpredictable nature of university actually helped me a lot. I was able to work from my bed when my tiredness was too much, and I could come back to my flat throughout the day to take a few minutes to myself. The constant partying and clubbing meant I could dip into it as and when I wanted, and I found myself regularly going out and getting drunk, something I would never have been able to do the year before. I was able to retain more energy for working and socialising by having periods of rest throughout the day that I just couldn’t get in the rigidity of secondary school and sixth form. My anxieties over fitting in soon disappeared as I realised that I wasn’t going to throw up from one double vodka, and that even if I didn’t feel like drinking, literally no one noticed or even cared. Living in a real city was magical to me, sharing a flat with my close friends and being a stone’s throw away from clubs, pubs and gigs was something I had always dreamt of. Unfortunately, this was all cut short when the pandemic hit at the beginning of 2020, sending us all back home to live in our family houses.

Second year wasn’t so enjoyable, university returned, but this time online. I was so used to having no work, no commitments, and no exhausting activities to complete over lockdown that I was unsure how I’d end up coping with university work. My whole lockdown had consisted of late rising, reading all day or marathoning films. At the end of August, I moved into my second year house with the same flatmates as first year. As the nights got darker earlier, I struggled to work as efficiently as I did in my first year, which included a lot later nights and hangovers. The lack of structure in my day due to everything being pre-recorded or on Zoom meant that I would frequently sleep in until the middle of the day, telling myself I would watch the lectures later. I had forgotten how to socialise, and the thought of having to sit in front of a camera was daunting. I often found myself just not showing up, since I had no energy, motivation, or confidence to do so. That was a rough period; I often found myself laying on the floor in front of a portable heater. It felt oddly comforting to me and prevented me from getting under my bedcovers and falling back to sleep. I was so incredibly harsh on myself that year, not letting myself have a night off from working without immense feelings of guilt and failure. Looking back, I have learnt how incredibly stupid that mindset was. The aftermath of staying up late, overworking and stressing over whether I had done the extra reading or not, left me unable to work for whole days afterwards. This created a horrible cycle of guilt within me for the entirety of second year, desperate for summer to come instead of enjoying my learning. I could never admit to myself that I am chronically ill. That I have a disability that means I can’t work as much as other people. But once you acknowledge the fact that you may have to work differently from others, you’ll truly excel through proper structure and rest periods in your day. Not only does this conserve more energy but reduces the amount of anxiety suffered.

To anyone reading this that is worried about going into higher education with a chronic illness, know that you’ll be okay. Figure out what works best for you when working, contact your tutors and make them aware of any difficulties you have before the term starts, and during university too if you need additional care. My life has changed so positively since starting university, and even though I’ve had my rough patches, it is all just one big learning experience, and the sooner you seek support the easier it gets.