It’s only three years…

So it was around this time last year that I fell apart. I finally admitted what I had been scared to admit to myself, let alone anyone else that I genuinely hated University.

advice freshers freshers week hate

So it was around this time last year that I fell apart. I finally admitted what I had been scared to admit to myself, let alone anyone else that I genuinely hated University.

We all know that Freshers is essentially the most important date on the University calendar. In that one week I had assumed you were meant to make friends that will last forever and begin a journey of ‘self-discovery’ or whatever other silly notions I had gained from watching way too much T.V.

 

But I hated Freshers week. All my high school friends had gone to the same university and were continuing on a similar trajectory to the one they had been following since Year 11. I, however, in my infinite wisdom wanted to start afresh, in the vain, obscure hope that this would lead to change. I’m not entirely sure what this vague notion of ‘change’ was meant to entail. It certainly didn’t match the reality.

 

I was still the same awkward, scared teenager just in a different set of circumstances. The simple fact was that I couldn’t find a group of friends that I fitted in with. I was out of my depth and scared and trying to pretend that everything was fine. It was not. In fact I lost weight and if you know me, you’d know that I live to eat. It was not a good sign.

Eventually, about a month after I’d started University I called my parents in tears. Prior to this I’d actually been emailing other Universities in the desperate attempt to switch…

 

Of course, as soon as my mother heard her daughter crying, instead of panicking and getting upset, as I suspected she would do, she got busy. She emailed everyone she thought could help; indeed she was only restrained from contacting the Chancellor when my father explained that this was an honorary title. On the Tuesday I called them and on the Saturday I was moving to another college.

This time I had no expectations. If I hated it I was going home at Christmas and staying. I was finally relaxed. I had placed so many ridiculous expectations on the fresher experience that this attitude was actually far more conducive to a good university experience.

 

Much to my immense surprise I started to enjoy myself. The weeks which had seemed so interminably and damningly long, now gave me time to explore newfound freedom, instead of being trapped by sadness.

Would you believe this story actually has a happy ending. I am now living with good friends and have an active social life (well kind of as I’m still an intense geek.)

 

There are days when I miss my old friends, my family. And whilst for some people university will be a life altering, earth shattering experience; for the most of us we will just continue to trip and splutter through the days, hoping for signs of improvement.

My message is; uni doesn’t have to be ‘the experience,’ which frankly you couldn’t possibly sustain for three years anyway. Relax, enjoy and if you hate it, tell your parents, tell someone who can make a difference. Also, for me, the University was immensely helpful which is indicative of the support system available to you.

 

And finally there is no shame in giving up and going to a different uni. I was lucky, but everyone has bad experiences.