I'm Dropping Out of University

A featured article from the new blog 'Chronically Patient', documenting the life and struggles of someone dealing with their chronic illness disagnosis.

Alex Martin

I never wanted to go to university, nor did I ever expect to get accepted into one, let alone enjoy it. Due to my mental and physical health struggles during 6th Form, I achieved 'below-average' A-level grades (C, C, E). While at the time I was still unsure if I even wanted to go to uni, the likelihood I'd even be able to was slim. This is why, after nine months of working during a gap year, I genuinely took myself and my entire family by surprise by moving to Preston to study Asia Pacific Studies with Korean at the University of Central Lancashire. This life-altering decision, as scary as it was, felt so incredibly right. Growing up, my family moved house a lot. Although we stayed in the same area, I never really felt like I had a home; somewhere that I could feel comfortable enough to truly be myself. For the first time, in a tiny uni flat within a busy U-shaped student hall, I finally did. I had a fresh start, a social life, a large friendship group here and a small one at home both of which lifted me up instead of tore me down, a loving relationship that wasn't abusive or one-sided. I had a home. For a year I studied essay skills, current world issues and brief histories of East-Asian countries on a foundation-level course. During that time, as corny as it sounds, I finally found my independence, made life-long friends and even began the healthiest and happiest romantic relationship I could ever hope to have. I loved the course I was doing, while it wasn't quite what I had expected, it was easy enough to not freak me out, but challenging enough to interest me and test my true abilities, regardless of any previous grades or mistakes I'd made in the past. Then came lockdown. My boyfriend's amazing family, after having only met me once, took me in and three months into our relationship, we started living together. Classes and friendships continued online and although not the same, were definitely better than nothing. I finished the academic year with high 2:1s and First grade assignments, looking forward to finally start 'first-year' in September. We returned, moving in to our new accommodations, excited for the year ahead. Then the academic year began and something felt... off. My relationship and friendships were fine, in fact they were better than ever! However, the foundation course I did was completely different to the 'actual' one and my personal life kept taking hit after hit. My periods suddenly became some of the worst they had ever been (see my post "I Have a Chronic Illness and I'm Angry About it"). The people I loved had to spend a day comforting me, calling paramedics and watching me writhe on the floor, wailing in pain. I was, and still am, mortified. On Halloween, my grandma passed away. Although we'd been expecting it for several months at that point, it felt as if it came out of nowhere and didn't truly 'hit' me until the following March. This is something that still, to this day, doesn't feel real yet too real at the same time. No matter how hard I tried, how badly I wanted to be motivated, I couldn't force myself to attend my classes. This has been a problem for me since puberty. There's a joke about 'gifted kids' or children who were "a pleasure to have in class" that once they become a teenager, they burn out. For me it wasn't a joke; it was reality. It is reality. Symptoms strongly suggesting undiagnosed ADHD have followed me since childhood, though nobody noticed, as they often don't with girls, and they were starting to really affect me, more than they ever have. I was falling behind. My mental health, though not the worst it's ever been, was deteriorating rapidly. "But that's how everyone felt, right?" sure, but this was different. Nobody felt motivated after months of being locked in the house, yet everyone I spoke to said the same thing "I can't be bothered to do my course, but I still love it". So what was wrong with me? Why didn't I love it? Then it hit; like a landslide it all came crashing down at once. I don't like the course I'm doing. Now what? I can't blag my way through a four year university degree. I can't fake knowing Korean fluently. So what do I do? What do I want to do? I have no idea. I haven't ever known what I wanted to do, even as a child. So what can I do? What am I good at? I don't know anymore. What are my hobbies? What am I passionate about? I haven't had the time or energy for hobbies since I was about 14. Crap. After many, MANY hours of deliberation, soul-searching and tarot spreads I remembered writing. Writing is the one thing I've always done, be it cringe-worthy short stories and scripts when I was a teenager or essays and presentation speeches now, I've always been good at and loved writing. My issue now is that, because of how student finance works, I'm unable to do the course I really want to do unless I can find £9,250 to pay my first year's tuition fee. And so, I'm forced to go back home and try to be an adult, something I thought I wouldn't have to do for at least another three years... I have no idea what I'm going to do. Find a job, become an intern, join an apprenticeship scheme - we'll find out. I'm terrified of what will happen, the rejection and self-doubt I will inevitably face, but surely it has to be better than the alternative of making myself suffer. No matter what happens though, I'll always have writing, hence this blog. I've had this creative muscle that's gone unused for years and I think it's about time I started training it again. How often? I don't know. I don't even know what I really want to write about yet. The main thing is that I'm doing it and for that I'm proud of myself. I've never been one to put myself out there, socially or otherwise, but it's time I stopped comparing myself to others and start doing what I actually want without fear of judgement. Yes I'm dropping out of uni. Not because I'm failing or hating the experience as a whole, but because I refuse to force myself to be miserable anymore. Dropping out doesn't make me a failure, it wouldn't even if my reasons for doing so were different. If anything, it makes me the complete opposite. I'm finally starting to do what I want to do. It's about time.

Check out 'Chronically Patient' at: https://chronicallypatient.wixsite.com/blog