At 10.30pm on 5th August 2022, my year abroad ended. Altogether I’d spent 5 months in Germany, and 2 months in Spain. But mentally I had spent a lot more time than that abroad; as many of you know by now, I’d been dreading doing this compulsory part of my languages degree for years.
Even so, at 10.30pm, on 5th August, I noted no extraordinary feeling.
I suppose it did come in bits and pieces: when I had collected my suitcase and was making the long walk to the arrivals gate, I had butterflies; when I saw my Mum and boyfriend smiling at me, and ran into their arms, I cried and felt like I let myself properly breathe deeply for the first time in a while. But I didn’t experience and - after a few times visiting home along the way - didn’t expect this big change where the years of stress and anxiety suddenly fell off me and I had an overwhelming feeling of relief and achievement. Rather, it’s a slow process of coming to terms with it all, and in reality we adapt back very quickly.
In fact, watching out for expectations is one thing I really learnt on my year abroad. They can be very sneaky. It’s not just whether something will be good or not, but judgements on how you ‘should’ feel in certain situations. But really, how do we know what is ‘good’ or ‘right’?
I’m still adjusting back in a funny way, in that in some ways I feel I never left, that all I wanted to come back to and cherish once I'd seen how much I'd taken it for granted, is suddenly ordinary to me again - my point of reference shifts back. I forget good times and hardships and slot back in to place, being the only one around me that had the experience. I still feel a bit physically ill and I still have some of the same anxieties, and some new ones that have taken their place, for our brains always find the next thing.
But then I’ll cry at the thought of things I’d been through, like being sat alone in my room rife with health anxiety. I’ll think how relieved I am that I get to squeeze my boyfriend’s hand, or hear my mum shout upstairs that she’s made a pot of coffee, or be held by my Dad in a bear hug, or sleep in my own bed. I'll notice that I'm more easily able to access joy, and note a lot of small pieces of everyday magic: a dog looking at me on the tube, glancing in a window and seeing someone cozy in their living room picking something to watch, my cats grooming each other and the way Cleo's right canine pops out when she's relaxed, smiling at a lady on the street. It makes me realise how glad I am to be home.
The time has come to reflect on my experience, what I’ve learnt, from the perspective of someone navigating the year abroad with a mental illness. Maybe some of this will come in handy for you – not just those moving abroad, because some of them can apply to lots of areas of life.
As always, everyone will have different experiences. You’re not in my head and I’m not in yours. And of course, I’m not a professional. Everything is from my own experiences, nothing is prescriptive.
Some of you might wonder why I dreaded the year abroad so much, and, as per my self-deprecating core belief, I worry that people think I’m dramatic, and always talking about my mental health... and that the experience can’t be that bad. Well, firstly, I will always talk about mental health, and this experience is such a good opportunity to write about the different ways it can be impacted. There's stigma around talking about it too much but it is there in everything I do. It often comes into play in countless - sometimes hidden - ways in daily life and this needs to be brought to light more.
I also want to make clear that I know how privileged I am to have the opportunity to do this, to even be able to go to university. And it was partly because of knowing I was lucky to have this opportunity, that I went. But in the same vein, this doesn't take away from the difficulties I had. And if it was not a compulsory part of my degree, I wouldn’t have done it.
I think everyone knows that moving abroad is an incredibly scary thing to do. But I don’t think it’s something you can fully appreciate unless you’ve done it, because there are countless hidden difficulties and obstacles every single day. From the isolation and homesickness to the internal pressure and guilt to go out and do everything, from getting ill and having to navigate the doctors where no one speaks English, to sorting visas and admin with people who never reply, from meeting someone new every day and repeating the same small talk, to working in group presentations with students who don’t speak your language, from friendship difficulties to FOMO, from daily culture shock to stress-induced sickness and exhaustion.
Two years ago, I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety disorders, including OCD. I had to drop out of uni for a year, the year before going on my year abroad. The reason I decided to go through with it is because I knew that it would be good for me - the way to grow is to experience discomfort, and with the knowledge that I had anxiety, it seemed like the perfect time to go against what my anxiety was telling me to do i.e. protect myself from 'danger'. I felt I needed to do it for myself. But I knew it would be one of the hardest thing I’d done, and I would cry at the thought of it. I would think it was so unfair that people who live with mental illness are made to go through such exposure to discomfort as this, to get better. To start living a life more in line with their values. But I was desperate to do it, and so I did.
But doing a year abroad with a mental illness adds fuel to the fire in a lot of ways. You are in a constant level of discomfort, and the things that would help get you through certain situations aren’t there anymore. You can feel very isolated. It’s so important to reach out and talk to people you trust. You’d be surprised how much making a phone call to a loved one can pick you up even if you feel like it’s the last thing you want to do. And it was useful to schedule in visits home or for people to come out - it gave me something to look forward to and broke up the time. I also had professional support from my longstanding therapist and wellbeing advisors from my university, so I'd always recommend reaching out for professional help or seeking a neutral party if you can.
Your year abroad can also provide the perfect breeding ground for your anxiety: being alone, travelling, navigating new university systems and work… it’s all a big bubble of uncertainty and as we all know, that’s what anxiety tries to avoid most.
I want to talk about some more specific examples, to raise awareness of the many different ways anxiety and depression can manifest.
If you have anxiety, you may struggle to go out to social events, and meet new people. But I also experienced an obsession over knowing whether I didn’t want to go out because of my anxiety, or whether I just didn’t want to go out. And even if this was the case, whether I should do it anyway. This was probably a near-daily occurrence in some way or another. It wasn’t just big social events, but any time anyone asked to meet up, or I was deciding whether to go into town or stay home. Of course, sometimes it was that I just didn’t want to go on a night out, but sometimes it was probably my illness trying to keep me safe and cooped up. But this constant overthinking and energy spent on the anxiety of doing things was exhausting. I had times I couldn’t even get on the tram or get myself dressed without being anxious.
And there’s a big guilt that comes with it too. When you do a year abroad, you feel this pressure to do and see so much. Normally, if you’re at uni, you just, live, stew, exist. But when you’re abroad you feel you should ‘make the most of it’, especially if you see other people doing so much. Firstly, it's useful to remember that, if you're doing a year abroad, you’re not a tourist. It’s nice to do things, but you don’t need to be 'go' all the time. Especially if you’re struggling mentally, you need to allow yourself the time to recover.
So, find a balance between opportunities to expose yourself to difficult things (sometimes you can even use opportunities you wouldn’t take if you didn’t have anxiety, if you think it will be helpful), and doing things that calm and ground you.
Try and be guided by things that ring true to your values and make you feel like you. It sounds simple, but don't forget to do things you enjoy and that bring you some peace and happiness. You're allowed to do things you would do at home.
Another example is that, because I have struggled with existential OCD, I would get very spaced out about my experience and adjusting to new environments. When I arrived, I panicked about whether this experience meant that everything would change forever, I’d have to leave my boyfriend and move abroad and this whole time I’d been missing out. Even writing this post for me is hard as I trawl though my feelings; do I feel ‘weird’ and ‘different’? How am I taking everything?
Now, this isn’t just anxiety; the year abroad does make you consider these things; do I want to travel? How did I not know about how small and insignificant I was before? How different is our culture to countless others? Can I really just live in one place forever now? But, as with a lot of anxiety, this is very ‘all or nothing’ thinking. I can do what makes me feel comfortable and happy and fully whole (i.e. living at home), and travel in the way I want to, without putting myself through stuff for the sake of it.
After it all, I ended up being right: the year abroad was probably the best and worst thing I’ve done. My threshold for anxiety has changed, I’ve learnt more about myself, about other cultures, about my place in the world. I’ve grown to value my life here more. I’ve become more independent and resilient. But I got ill with anxiety, having daily panic attacks and got sick multiple times. When others were up for things and grateful to be there, I felt numb. I went to some very dark places and wanted nothing more than to be back home.
But if I could go back, I’d make that decision to get on that plane again and again, because of what it’s done for me.
I want to say this to finish: there’s no ‘way’ you should feel on your year abroad. There’s no formula. And there’s no ‘type’ of person that does a year abroad. When I was there, I felt like a mouse in a sea of adventurers. I felt different and in some ways, that was true, in that I had struggles that some of my friends didn’t and this affected my experience in different ways. But that in no way means that they deserved to be there or were more suited to a year abroad than I was. I had as much right to be there as anyone and I did it. If you are living with a mental illness, it does not make up your whole being. It does not mean that you have to sit things out that you want to do. You can do the thing. In fact, it might be just what you need. I think everyone could go and get something out of living abroad, and I think experiencing other cultures and meeting people from other countries is vital.
No matter how far apart from others you might feel, you are NEVER alone. There is always someone going through the same as you.
And also remember that, even though I’ve advocated for pushing and challenging yourself, you always have choices in whatever situation you’re in, and there’s always an opportunity to reach out, ask for allowances and get help. A lot of the time, especially at university, people get so caught up in pushing and pushing themselves to breaking point that they forget they have choices. I often relied on Zoom calls with a wellbeing advisor from my university to remind me of this and put it all into perspective for me. Your health comes first. You are your only constant.
Now I’m going to get on with life, going forward with the lessons I’ve learnt and the ways I’ve flourished. Feeling more prepared for hardship, but in need of a good rest first.
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