Hello,

As I sit down to write this it feels incredibly weird that my university experience is over. The past three years have flown by and it is difficult to comprehend just how quickly they have gone. I want to use this post to sum up my experience so in years to come, when I’ve inevitably forgotten what university is, I can look back at it. Let’s pause here, get yourself a cuppa, maybe even a biscuit and we shall start the journey.

When choosing my next step after A-Levels the only option that made sense was university, but I had so many reservations and was terrified. Sixth form was awful and no matter how much money you offered me I would never return to do it all again so with university looming I was worried. I was also excited because you know “uni is the best years of your life” and all that mumbo jumbo that everyone tells you, and they don’t just say it and leave it they do that look where they gaze into the past full of nostalgia and reliving their youth for a minute. This was going to be the place that I found myself, whatever that meant. I was going to come out of here with clear job prospects and knowing everything there is to know about myself. Spoiler, it didn’t happen. The first day came around and I sat in this huge lecture hall that was overflowing with new students all here for the same course. It was daunting to say the least. In the first few days I couldn’t work out how to get into the library and awkwardly latched on two other people I remember being assigned to my group (they are still my friends now so it didn’t end up bad), I spent a ridiculous amount of money on a Marks and Spencer meal deal but thoroughly enjoyed the pink lady apple juice, I “left” my phone in the computer room we had just had our IT skills seminar in so my new friends helped me look and I awkwardly walked back in only to discover that it was one of the pockets on my denim jacket.

The novelty wore off and soon it was time to do the real university stuff, you know the assignments. Let me tell you, the jump from A-Level essays to university essays is across the globe, and there’s fire and angry giants chasing you and you cry. I read everything I could. I made notes of everything I could. I worked so incredibly hard and when I got my first grades back, they did not reflect it. I wasn’t really close enough to anyone at this point to spend time with them, so I spent every free minute sat in the quiet section of the library working away. I put so much work into those assignments and felt so disappointed when I didn’t do as well as I thought I would. I questioned over and over again whether I deserved to be at university, whether I had what it takes to get through the course. Whatever “it” was. By the end of the first semester, I hated it. I went to uni, attended my lectures and seminars, worked hard in the library and then commuted home. It wasn’t worth the stress and sadness, I clearly couldn’t do the assignments to the level that was expected and this was not what I saw myself doing for another two and a half years. Naturally, by Christmas I came home and announced to my Mum that I was not going back.

It did not help that I joined a society and hated it, the society itself was based around knitting which was lovely because this was the time that I learnt to knit and stuck at it. My Mum and Nana attempted many times during my tiny years, and I was never that brilliant, but now I’m not too shabby. At first I looked forward to the Tuesday evenings where I could sit in the union and knit with these new people but as the weeks went on I ended up sat there by myself with no one really talking to me and when I attempted to start a conversation it would fizzle. Whilst this was not a pleasant experience, the feelings of “oh another uni related thing that isn’t working out” were probably heightened because of my overall experience so far.

My Mum managed to talk some sense into me and convinced me to go back and finish first year and if I still hated it at the end then I could leave and do something else. I owe Mumma G a lot in life, that’s pretty obvious considering she birthed me, but I owe her big time for persuading me to finish first year. I remember when I’d finished first year, I was gutted that I wasn’t going to see my friends over the summer. I had made more friends and became closer to the two poor souls who I followed into the library and I was enjoying it. I was still putting a lot of work into my assignments and my grades were improving as I developed more of an understanding of how uni assignments work (it’s mind boggling to begin with).

Second year was lovely, I had a solid friendship group, we laughed so much and helped each other through. We had horrible statistics workshops that were 3 hours long and on a Friday morning, just to add insult to injury and I found myself weirdly looking forward to them even though I understood nothing that was going on. I looked forward to them purely for the fact it was a guaranteed mood booster sitting around the computers being completely clueless and just having a laugh. As lovely as second year was it flew by and before I knew it, it was the big away day event where we go introduced to the wonderful world of dissertations.

I had also signed up to extra-curricular activities in second year and was a department representative. I was unsure of the role at first, it seemed like a lot of work but I thoroughly enjoyed throwing myself into it and found it was one of those things that the more you put into it, the more you would get out of it. My confidence developed a lot during my time as department rep, at the start of the year I would go into meetings full of important people and whenever I tried to talk the tiniest mouse voice would come out and my cheeks would go as red as a tomato. But by the end of that year I was putting suggestions out there and answering questions, I really impressed myself. As a result of my efforts, I received the Department Rep of the Year award, which was a complete surprise, but I was very chuffed. I continued working as department rep in third year but in hindsight I should have left it. I couldn’t put the same level of work into the role as I could at second year.

It felt so odd and I was full of mixed emotions at this event. The feeling was bitter-sweet, I was excited to be close to the end of the degree, but I wasn’t prepared to let go of it all yet and I knew how quickly the end would come around. I’d finally started to enjoy uni and it was going to end so very soon, and it was daunting, especially because third year has a whole other bubble of pressure over it. During the second semester of second year I achieved the best grades I had so far and was over the moon, I felt as though I had this uni thing under control. The end of second year was also full of “ahh, not going to see my friends that much for a while” but I was also so happy with how things were going.

Then we get to third year. What a ride third year has been. I’ll set the tone I had my first meeting with my dissertation supervisor. I had so many ideas prepared, I was so excited and ready to start work on this piece of research that was entirely my own. After the meeting, I rang my Mum and cried and then met my friends and continued to cry. Thankfully, we had booked a separate room in the library, so I wasn’t sobbing in front of everyone which made me feel a little better. My supervisor wasn’t keen on my ideas and I felt as though they were shot down without being able to explore them further. I ended up agreeing to a subject similar to ones that had been done before and felt so deflated. I quickly adjusted to this and got on with it because really there was nothing else to do and there was no point in moping around about it. I had picked neuropsychology as a module and honestly, Lia why did you do that? Whilst it was marginally interesting, it was definitely not my cup of tea and I spent a lot of time looking out of the window during the workshops and watching the squirrels outside. The funny thing is, I only picked it as a module because I was fascinated watching Derek Shepherd as a neurosurgeon on Grey’s Anatomy. It wasn’t as fascinating as that. Anyway, the other modules were enjoyable. However, I had quite a few sickness related troubles (not a surprise to those who know me well, it is a regular occurrence and I’m a generally faulty human). So, my attendance for second semester was not brilliant. This did not matter too much as strikes happened and then Covid-19 happened! WOO! Online teaching was then a thing and I had to finish everything from home. During all this I tested positive for the dreaded Covid-19 so had to set up camp in the spare room on a very uncomfortable camp bed. I was lucky as I had it mild and it was overall a weird experience. I got extensions on my work, which was a bonus but then added even more pressure to get them completed. I made it though, just about.

I know there’s bigger issues in the world and I know that people have lost lives so my issues and sadness relating to this “unprecedented” (eye roll at that suddenly overused word) time really are teeny tiny. But I just feel like I’ve had the end of third year completely ripped away from me, this is not just for me there’s so many people in the same boat. My grad ball was cancelled. I couldn’t do my fancy dissertation picture in front of the Sheffield Hallam University sign, the sign that I’ve walked past so many times and pictured myself standing in front of with my dissertation. I didn’t get one last library session with my friends. I didn’t even get one last library session alone. I didn’t get one last hot chocolate which are amazing, but overpriced. I didn’t get to celebrate finishing uni with my friends. I know I can do a lot of these when normality resumes but it was taken away from me and it was such a massive part of the experience. This is not how my university experience should have ended, me and the thousands of other students in their last year.

I want to end this blog (if you’ve made it to this point then props to you) by saying thank you to everyone who has made my university experience so good and memorable. I really would not have made it to the end of final year without any of you. Who knows what is next for me, but I feel happy and optimistic right now and very content with my new found freedom.

Aaaand (please read that in an overly dramatic and theatrical kind of way), that is another chapter of my life over.

All my love,

Lia x