Lucky dip? Disaster!

Finally uni, I thought as a fresher. Finally freedom. The start of student life seemed so promising, as if I were discovering a whole new life after years of captivity. However, I found myself confronted with challenges I never would have expected. Life suddenly posed questions to me that I didn't even know existed. I thought it would continue as easily as before. I always knew where my path was heading, I knew my strengths and weaknesses and was super motivated. After three months of studying, that was all nonsense, because everyone except me had already found friends with whom they would soon fly on holiday. The craziest flat-share parties were happening everywhere without me and I spent my birthday with my mum, my aunt and my gran. Not exactly the student life I had imagined. My goodness, how I doubted! On top of that, the new responsibility and my chronic fear of making mistakes threw me from one identity crisis into the next. But more on that later. 

Looking back, social life definitely stressed me out the most in my first semester. Making small talk in every lecture, trying to have pseudo-deep conversations and always seeming super interested, attentive and likeable. For me, a huge challenge. At the same time, I had no idea when I had to study what and how much for uni. Perfectionism, goodbye. There were seemingly a thousand questions I didn't want to ask because I seemed to be the only one worrying about them. That was also a point that catapulted me into those identity crises I mentioned. I constantly asked myself what others were doing and thinking. I didn't want to be the weird person who doesn't drink alcohol, prefers game nights to clubs and enjoys studying. Back then, I felt like I was falling through the cracks as the only one. I wanted so desperately to belong that I kept betraying myself. Aha, there it is again, the existential crisis. I didn't know anything anymore, but I was using quite a lot of energy to keep up the façade. After all, I had always been a bright girl and I wanted to stay that way. I stopped going to uni, but still sat all my exams. You'd be amazed at how colourful my collection of excuses was when someone asked me where I'd been. I forced myself to go to parties and eventually found the people who are now my friends. But I was still unhappy. By the way, I also had that long-distance relationship I mentioned hanging over me at the time, which probably contributed quite a bit to the fact that I was settling into Würzburg very slowly. But if you tell yourself you're happy for long enough, your mind eventually believes it too. Only your gut knows that you're lying right now and not doing it very well. Anyway, my friend, now ex-friend, eventually pulled the plug. Painful, after almost three years, even though it was foreseeable. I can write about it quite easily now, but back then my mood swung hourly from anger to wailing misery. After that, I was single again. Yay. But hey, everything was great. I was finally allowed to continue studying, I had a friend group that I seemed to fit into and the world was actually a wonderful place. Cough. Irony. I suppressed my inferiority complexes after the break-up brilliantly. After all, the relationship hadn't been going well for a while and besides, he had totally cramped my style and I was finally free again. So off to Würzburg, I thought, let's go with the real student life. Because studying is the best time of your life, right? 

Uh, yeah no. Well, not for me. Because, who would have thought, my body had something to say: Hey you, I hate to bother you, but you've really stressed me out these past few weeks. First the exams, then I had to patch your heart back together and now I'm supposed to run at full speed again because the semester is starting. Yep, so my thyroid said goodbye to regular service. Diagnosis: Hashimoto's. But it doesn't matter, you can live with it just fine. Through substitution. Sure, taking tablets every day is no stress. Meanwhile, I threw myself into my studies, kept my super cool life going and somehow didn't notice that something was destroying my fat reserves. In other words: I lost weight. A lot. I went from garden-slim to skeletal. I had no appetite anymore. Never mind, it'll be fine, I just need to pull myself together and eat. The problem is that our body doesn't work that simply. I desperately fought my physical symptoms whilst completely ignoring the fact that I was a psychological wreck. Of course, I was annoyed that I couldn't seem to gain weight. I stressed myself so much about it that I had a nervous breakdown before Christmas. Brief, but intense. I barely recovered over the Christmas holidays and after two weeks I returned to Würzburg full of fear. I was lonely. My hormones were going haywire, I cried every other day and felt guilty every time I missed an event. But I didn't go anyway. Hashimoto's made my psyche do somersaults, caused absolute motivation gaps and leaden fatigue. In interaction with my underweight, that was the final blow to my conscientiousness and discipline. I couldn't get anything done anymore, was practically no longer capable of surviving on my own. On top of that, I had developed an absurd fear of enclosed spaces. In between, there were good moments, but overall I felt terrible. I fought my way through every day, kept pushing myself. Somehow I sat my exams, even though I got panic attacks. Breathe in, breathe out. The next crying fit. I felt like the weakest, most pathetic, most miserable and strangest person ever. 

The next semester break came, it was February by now. After this turbulent and overall catastrophic semester, I had of course not given a thought to what I should do during the break. So I spent the entire two months at home. On the one hand, it bored me and I really stagnated, on the other hand I was afraid whenever I went outside. A dilemma I only escaped by enduring the fear under great stress. Somehow the semester break passed anyway. I was looking forward to studying again like crazy. Even though I was in no way capable of it, but I wasn't aware of that at the time. I was underweight, had no strength left, was still psychologically absolutely unstable and enclosed spaces caused panic. Flixbus journeys became an absolute horror, so I switched to the train. At least there I had the feeling I could escape somewhere. The money was worth it. At the beginning of the semester I still forced myself to every event. Eventually the stress level was too high and I only went to one seminar with mandatory attendance. So nothing had changed compared to the previous semester. I was still the shattered person who was having the best time of their life. Not. I was never in my life as far down as I was in those endlessly long months. 

The turning point was at the same time the absolute low point. It was a weekend that was supposed to change everything. I had crying fit after crying fit, didn't want to go home and eventually did anyway. Surrounded by my family, I felt as lonely as ever. I was ashamed of my tiny portions, which I struggled with at every meal. I despised my skinny arms, I hated my unhappy face and I inwardly mocked my own weakness. It was the weekend when my family intervened and convinced me to see a psychologist and finally get help. But the first port of call was actually a psychiatrist who promptly prescribed me Escitalopram, an antidepressant. Not the refined form of treatment, but a start to get out of the absolute hole. Then I went to see the psychologist and lo and behold, things got better. She showed me in a pretty blunt and uncomfortable way that my problem was in my head. My body was fine, but after I'd treated it so badly, it was somehow clear that it couldn't put up with that forever. Either I changed it very quickly or hospital was calling. After just two conversations, the switch flipped in my brain. I could eat more again, but the fear was still there. The final transformation happened shortly before the next semester break, so at the end of last summer semester. I realised that my body is the most valuable thing I possess. It is my home, my shell and my elixir of life. But it is also the seat of my soul and if I don't bring the two into harmony, then there's no way I'll have a long and happy life. In the moment I understood that, things started to improve. In just six weeks I gained six kilos. And as my weight increased, my joy in life returned. I could laugh again, I no longer despised myself and was finally allowed to do sport again. I no longer had to be afraid of illnesses that might have sent me to hospital. I had joy in activities again, I wanted to try new things and pursue my hobbies. My life started anew. 

To this day I feel uncomfortable in enclosed spaces and I still find it difficult to eat with other people. But I'm doing well, I'm grateful for every day and to all the girls out there: it's annoying to have your period, but it's shit not to have it for months. With a lot of help and valuable people, I managed to get out of this crisis. And wow – I learned so much! 

Conclusion to my story: What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

Here's to an awesome semester!

Anonymous