The Perils of Perfectionism

Catrin discusses the effect that anxiety and perfectionism have on university life, and how easy it is to put unnecessary stress on yourself. She explores the high-pressure environment at the University of Oxford, and how stress can be a competitive sport.

- Catrin Haberfield

University is hard. Brilliant, but hard, no matter where you are or what you study. I’m in my third year at Somerville College, Oxford, and I’ve truly loved every minute of it. My course is fantastic – I’ve had the chance to study everything from Beowulf to Dickens, Chaucer to Stoppard, and I’m having a whale of a time researching runic epigraphy for my dissertation. My college is amazing too: the welfare, food, accommodation, and people are all wonderful. But while the past two years have been an absolutely incredible experience, they’ve also been extremely challenging. 

One in four university students experiences mental health issues; at Oxford, it’s closer to one in two. I’m not stating this to gain sympathy, or to try and convince people that Oxford students are ‘special snowflakes’. I know that I’m at quite literally the best university in the world, and I’m proud of my achievements, but it can’t be escaped that standards here are high and so many people push themselves to breaking point just to live up to expectations. To make matters worse, these expectations can often be self-imposed. I definitely think that most Oxford students have a perfectionist streak, but with the sheer amount of work we’re given it’s hard to be 100% on point for every essay, tute sheet, or presentation. All too often, stress becomes competitive, and having four essays and reading list a mile long is worn like a badge of honour. But there’s nothing more futile, nothing more unhelpful, than constant self-deprecation coupled with high expectations.

I’ve lived with anxiety for years, and have struggled with depression and an eating disorder at various points of my life. A lot of these issues stem from perfectionism, and manifest as unhealthy coping mechanisms for stress. Eating disorders and self-harm, for example, often develop as ways to regain control over one part of your life when you feel powerless in other areas. During my first year, my eating disorder developed into bulimia, my depression reached an all-time low, a relationship ended, and my grandfather died. Add all of these things together, and top it off with a healthy dose of two essays a week (plus learning Old English from scratch), and you can see why I struggled. 

But – and this is the important thing – you don’t have to have a mental illness to struggle at uni. You don’t have to be mentally ill to find things hard. Everyone has their own mental health, the same way everyone has their own physical health, and you need to look after both. Stress is a natural part of life, and a certain amount is absolutely a healthy thing. Can you imagine if you didn’t get stressed about anything? You’d never be motivated, or interested, or scared. Life would be boring. But don’t make things harder by putting more pressure on yourself than you need. Set realistic goals, find a balance between work and play, and don’t punish yourself for taking an evening (or even a whole weekend) off. I guess my point is: be nice to yourself. You deserve it.

Hi folks! I'm Catrin, a third year Medieval English Language and Literature student at Somerville College, Oxford. I've always been super vocal when it comes to mental health; I love pushing boundaries and challenging people's assumptions about mental illness. I live with mental illness, so I know how much both the illnesses and the stigma can affect your life, as well as the lives of others. I'm incredibly excited to be a Sub-Editor for Student Minds, and I can't wait to help other people share their stories!

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How to: Navigate Uni with a Dissociative Disorder

Recognising mental illness at university can be hard. Especially, as with dissociative disorders, they aren't talked about very often.

-Elise Jackson

University is undoubtedly amazing. However, getting through the first year can be a challenge for many. Moving away from everything that is familiar, meeting a diverse array of completely new people and having to adapt to an entirely new way of learning is not easy, to say the least. For me, the summer before I started university was the hardest of my life. I lost a lot. My mum had moved half way across the country, my family sold the only home I’d ever known and my friends, destined for universities up and down the country, had to say goodbye. This summer of loss was made only more difficult, by a previous, truly world shattering, loss that occurred during my A-level exams. Four days before my 18th birthday, I lost my big brother to SUDEP (Sudden Unexpected Death in Epilepsy). It was one week before his 22nd birthday. We came to terms with it somehow but grieving whilst simultaneously moving house, sitting A-level exams and leaving home for the first time to embark on my new student life, unsurprisingly, proved difficult. 

I struggled. Within two days of being at university, my parents had phoned the university to help me get some support. I was in the counseling service before the end of Freshers. The counselors were brilliant, very understanding, informed, and acted immediately. Thankfully, when I had settled in, things got better fast. My entire block of fellow first years was super sociable. We spent a lot of time living as one huge flat. I was also lucky enough to have one of my best friends from home living two blocks down. Between my block and his flat, housing for second year was sorted by mid-November. Things were going well so I stopped going to counseling. 

But.

 The thing about mental health is that it can fluctuate, it's somewhat unpredictable. Around February time I had to return my mum's new home in Norfolk for a few days because I felt... wrong. At the time, I thought it was exhaustion and decided a few days at home would solve it. And it did, for a little while. These short periods of what I can only describe as fogginess came to every couple of months but always passed within a week or so. Exams came and went and summer returned. 

During summer, I’m often between places. I usually choose to spend most of the holiday period in Sussex as it is where the majority of my friends are. It also means I can be close to my dad’s family. Reflecting on that first summer of University, I think I must have felt it coming to some extent but not really acknowledged it. I went to stay in Norfolk and something hit me like a tidal wave. This time, I was forced to realize that something was going on in my brain that couldn’t be simply solved by a week at home. I lived for a month feeling like I wasn’t in my own body. I felt I was watching life through a hazy screen. Eventually, I found out that I was suffering from DPD (depersonalization disorder), triggered by depression. 

When I returned to uni, I found out about Student Minds and began volunteering for them. I decided I needed to take control of my own brain. My mental health still fluctuates a lot. I’ll often be feeling fine and then become unwell for a few months. Learning how to deal with this has been the biggest challenge of my second year. Dissociative disorders are not often talked about nor are they well researched. During a relapse, I feel drunk all the time or like a robot who can’t feel anything under the surface. Knowing that there are ways to reconnect with your body is the most important thing. I practice mindfulness, meditation and yoga to stay connected to my body and remain grounded. I intend to return to counseling. But as always, more needs to be done, but I remain optimistic that it will.

Hello! I'm Elise. I'm currently in my final year studying English Language and Literature at the University of Nottingham. My writings for Student Minds will range from pieces about depression and DPD to coping with loss, bereavement and change during your studies - all the while remaining mindful and getting the most out of university life. Thanks for reading!

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Losing Someone to Suicide

Erin discusses the difficulties in coming to terms with death, and how to cope with a loved one taking their own life.                                                                                   - Erin Cadden

Losing any family member or friend is difficult. Dealing with grief is the hardest thing you’ll have to face with in life. But losing someone to suicide - this can be even more heart destroying. 

People say that those who take their own life are selfish. The people saying this are naïve in thinking that it was the individual’s choice to make this life-ending decision. Mental illness controls your brain and your thoughts – thoughts so consuming and loud that sometimes you lose track of the fact it’s not you talking, but your mind.

I was 8 years old. It was 2006 and my Dad was only 40. I remember coming home from a sleepover with a close family member and entering the living room to my mum in tears. As an 8-year-old you don’t think losing a parent is something you’ll have to experience. In fact, at this age it’s something you can’t even mentally process. How is anyone this young meant to understand that someone who was supposed to love you so much has taken their own life? How are you meant to understand that you’ll never again get the opportunity to hear their laugh, to feel their hugs or see their face? It was, and still is, soul destroying.

The movement of tectonic plates could not compare to the shift in reality that had happened for myself and my family that day. We not only had to mourn the reality that we had lost the most important man in our lives, but we had to come to terms with how it happened. I’m now 19 years old, and if I’m completely honest, I still don’t fully understand the passing of my father. 

In cycles, I went through the different stages of grief. To this day I still do, trying to come to terms with the fact my father left us. Some days, I get angry. I blame him for it all, blame him for ending his life, for leaving my family, and for making us have to live life without him. Sometimes I just feel sad and empty. Sad about the fact that I never really got to know him. About the fact he will never watch my sisters and I grow up or walk us down the aisle. 

But sometimes I’m happy knowing that I experienced him, even if it was for a very small amount of time in my early childhood. I’m happy to remember the small memories I shared with him, and I’m happy to know that wherever he is, he’s no longer suffering. There’s a massive hole in our heart that will never be filled by anyone. Dads are one of a kind. But my Dad was someone incredibly special.

My father’s death raises a lot of anxiety for myself. You can’t blame people with mental illness for taking their own lives, because it’s not themselves that make the decision, but the illness itself. The fact I now suffer with mental illness means I can empathise, and go some way to understanding what drove my dad to do what he did. It wasn’t his fault. The darkness just overcame him.

Those who take their own lives don’t make that decision themselves. Don’t blame the person, but the illness. You can’t take anything for granted. You can’t know what’s going to happen in a year, month or even hour. All you can do is live life to the fullest, loving and being loved.

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