As a third year-student in the university, there are certain things that one is expected to be used to—resumption, class schedules, and juggling responsibilities. I thought I was ready for it all, but reality quickly dawned two to three weeks into the semester. I was still running helter-skelter, trying to get a place to stay.
Accommodation in the school halls of residence wasn’t guaranteed for students in their sophomore years because of the limited space. To get a spot, you had to know someone in a position of influence in the university. Unfortunately for me, I didn’t have that kind of connection.
Eventually, I got a small room some miles away from the school. Commuting from there to school wasn’t the easiest thing for me. When I still lived in the hall, it was quite easy to move to my class and go back to my room as it took 10 to 20 minutes. As an off-campus resident, I now spent over 30 minutes just to get school. I couldn’t even think about returning home to rest a while and then going back to school. In short, I spent hours sitting around campus, waiting for my next lecture.
This new routine didn’t sit well with me because I had other responsibilities I needed to deal with apart from school work. One had to do with church commitments and the other was the extracurricular activities I embarked on. Everything began to pile up, and I started forgetting to do things. My assignments were left undone and I had to start rushing through some of them just to submit in time. This shocked me and even my course mates.
You see, I’ve always been the “extra serious” student. I attend classes regularly, my notes are always up-to-date, and I’m usually among the first to arrive for lectures. So, this sudden change in behavior was unexpected. More than a month into school activities, I was simply floating in the air through the motions of classes, church, and other duties without truly being present.
No one could really tell that I was struggling. I was still showing up, smiling, responding like I usually would. Even I didn’t realize how deep it had gotten. I dismissed it as just fatigue, but it only got worse.
The last straw that eventually broke the camel’s back was when a document I had worked tirelessly on was rejected. Looking back, I might have overreacted, but at the time, the dismissal broke the dismissal broke the last bit of resilience I had left. I had spent hours fine-tuning that document only for it to be tossed aside like it meant nothing.
As I walked out of the building, tears began to drop steadily. I couldn’t even stop them. I cried all the way to the junction, boarded a cab while still shedding tears. The embarrassing thing was that inside the cab was someone I knew. He noticed that I was crying, but he just couldn’t ask why. He offered to pay my transport fare. Of course, I had my money in my hand, but I didn’t resist. I think I was trying not to talk at all. When we got to our stop, I whispered a thank you and began the long walk, grateful it was already dark. That way, no one could see that I was crying. I would just say that I slept with a tear-filled pillow.
The next morning, I was up again, moving between preparing for classes and worrying about my mistakes. After my lectures, I returned to my small room, exhausted and mentally drained. My mind was mostly blank perhaps that’s why the next thing happened. I saw my very sharp knife on my table. The thought to end it came so suddenly, so strong. I stared at it for what felt like hours. The idea seemed so easy, so… tempting.
How I was able to overcome that particular situation, I can’t clearly remember, but I did speak to a friend about it. He listened. He didn’t judge. And that act of kindness helped me begin the healing process.
That experience birthed something in me. I became more interested in anything mental health. At first, I wanted to understand what was wrong with me. It thereafter grew to wanting to know how I could help others going through similar struggles.
Since then, my journey has been one of learning, unlearning, and growth. I now find purpose in sharing my story and using my voice to support others. Mental WellSpace is one of the ways I do that. If my story reaches just one person and reminds them, they are not alone, then I know it was worth it.
