Today, I'm going to write about something that I've been avoiding writing for a long time.
I've known it would be good to write about, because it might help others who are also quietly in this predicament feel less alone. But it has taken a long time for me to accept that this was the predicament I have inadvertently landed in.
Today, I'm going to change that.
The predicament I wish to talk about is something I've been made to feel ashamed is happening, as it goes against the societal grain. This predicament is simple: university has not been the most fantastic, exhilarating, life-changing experience I was promised it would be.
That isn't to say that it hasn't been any of those things at all. I'm fully aware that people will read this and be like "pah, gutted! I'm having the time of my life. University for me has been PERFECT, soz for your woes Flo" and yes - I have had some brilliant times here, my English Lit course caters brilliantly to my needs and as indicated by my blog about the city, I remain to be besotted with Glasgow itself. However, it hasn't been all smooth sailing for me.
To start from the beginning, my flat mates and I are not the best buddies I was guaranteed they would be - our relationship is by and large a 'working' one. You are generally told that your flatmates will be your first guaranteed circle of pals, but this just wasn't the case for us. I was placed in private halls which - truthfully - I haven't found to be particularly friendly, in comparison to the other halls actually owned by the University of Glasgow. But with the building I live in being the first port of call and that letting me down, it's been challenging to throw myself into socializing elsewhere. Usually alone.
A few months on and everybody seems to have found their niche and I am usually found floating in between them, never particularly fixed to one group. I am not exactly companionless and there is always somebody to go out with, but to feel like you don't fully belong anywhere with anybody pushed me to a real low ebb.
By the end of the first semester, my willing myself to believe that everything was fine, great, amazing had disappeared. I couldn't go even for a few hours without crying over the smallest things. Though I'm well aware that it isn't REALLY the biggest issue in the world, I remember when I discovered that a flat mate had eaten an entire packet of my bacon - I cried for around 3 hours and felt awful for having to ring my mum for her to bring me to my senses. Most days, I could hardly bring myself to get out of bed - I couldn't see a reason to. The worst part was that I felt like I did not have somebody at my university close enough for me to really confide in them without them judging me, or even becoming offended. Looking back on it, I probably was a bit depressed.
It is the beginning of semester 2 now and I just can't go back to that. That wasn't very Flo of me, y'know.
There is a lot of stigma attached to those who don't absolutely love university - what with the "best years of your life!" line thrown at you by every elder you come across. This is why it took a lot of soul searching and "come on Flo, don't be a dick" for me to finally write and publish this. I like to think that maybe I'm not the only one with this little speed bump, and hopefully others might read it and feel less alone.
Finally, it can feel like a long, bastard wait for somebody to reach out to me, but the assertive military child in me isn't quite ready to sit back and accept that as my fate. If there isn't anybody to reach out, I have to get there first. Generally in life, I am an optimist and I always, always hope for good things, even when it feels like this hope is slipping away more quickly than I could ever grab it back.
'If clouds are blocking the sun, there will always be a silver lining that reminds me to keep on trying.'
No comments:
Post a Comment