A Parent & Practitioners View
This time twelve years ago my eldest child Martha was preparing to take her A levels before heading off to Aberystwyth University in the autumn of 2011. Now, twelve years later, my fourth and youngest, Archie is also about to sit his A levels but what I’ve learned from the experiences of his sisters and brother means there is no way on earth I would let him head off to another city to begin a degree this coming September.
So what have I learned? That university is no longer ‘the best time of your life’, that it isn’t ‘a safe, supported stepping stone to the world of adulthood and work’ and that young people’s mental health is at crisis point thanks to the unprecedented economic and social pressures facing them. All of which is magnified through the lens of social media and amplified by two lost pandemic years of their young lives.
Martha’s mental health deteriorated at university. She ‘failed’ her first year, passed it the second time around, almost ‘failed’ her second year but passed on retakes. At which point I intervened and brought her home to complete her third year online while recovering from depression and anxiety. I was the proudest parent at her graduation. Then Edith went off to Leicester. Not long into her first year the familiar pattern of less and less communication, providing less and less information sounded alarm bells. I turned up unannounced to find her living in a dingy, filthy flat, only venturing out at night to buy cake. Her flatmates thought she had left weeks before, the university didn’t do anything about the fact that she had dropped off the face of the earth despite us highlighting her autism and arranging for support before she arrived at uni. She could have been dead in that flat and no one would have known. She moved back home, started at a local university and three years later got her degree.
So when it came to Oscar’s turn, I thought I knew better. He had struggled with anxiety during his A levels so we decided a gap year would give him a chance to grow up and gain resilience. In the summer of 2019 he worked in a coffee shop while making plans for the following year, ignorant of what was about to hit the world. The reality was that he spent the year helping his mum and dad deliver gluten free baked goods across the city and pack postal orders. It wasn’t the worst gap year and we all felt that we had valuable time together. By September 21, despite continued restrictions on life he was excited and ready to head off to Brighton. And the first two years did go brilliantly. He made friends and coped with the workload really well. Then something changed. His exams, having been online since the beginning of his course moved to being sat in person. This was the first time since his A levels four years before. The phone calls became less frequent, the questions about how his course were going were met with defensive responses. He didn’t take the exams, I told him not to. He hadn’t slept in weeks, he was having panic attacks and it was all getting worse the closer he got to those exams. My priority was keeping him safe and there were many days when I didn’t know if he was safe, unanswered phone calls when I didn’t know if it had all got too much for him. I know way too much about suicide in young people to not consider it as a possibility. One of Oscar’s friends was buried in their cricket club kit the year before.
He's still there. With a prescription of antidepressants and anti-anxiety medication from the GP he’s getting himself to lectures again and my hope is that he will access counselling over the summer. As much as medication has a really useful place in treatment, it’s a quick fix and a sticking plaster that doesn’t really address the underlying issues. However, taking a pill is much simpler than confronting and unpicking the complexities of our thoughts and emotions. He will have to retake at least part of this year, depending on how this summer’s exams go. His future plans for moving home, getting a job and moving in with his partner put on hold for now.
Talking to other parents of young people, and talking to students at the breakfast club, I know that my kids’ experiences are far from unique. When I met Theresa and learned about what the breakfast club were doing to support students’ wellbeing and prevent them getting to crisis point, I knew I wanted to be a part of it. In my work as a wellbeing practitioner for Leeds Sanctuary I focus on helping people maintain mental health rather than fixing mental illness so running some wellbeing sessions at the breakfast club was a logical move. So far this term I have run 15 minute wellbeing sessions on willpower, stress, toxic negativity/toxic positivity, self esteem, conflict resolution and moving back ‘home’, I also brought in my dog, Iris for doggy cuddles – vital to wellbeing!. My approach isn’t to ask students to bare their souls in front of their friends, I’m happy to share a few thoughts that people can go away and think about. In future I would like to offer some one to one sessions and create a safe space where people can bring issues to be listened to, believed and supported in whatever way is appropriate.
The breakfast club community is already providing a home from home for hundreds of young people each week, and it is so much more than the food provided. The heart of wellbeing or flourishing is cultivating resilience, finding a sanctuary and balancing the pressure that the normal stresses of life bring. The wellbeing workshops fit perfectly with this model of flourishing, building in another layer of knowledge so young people can navigate the challenges of life armed with tools and resources. It is so satisfying to see how effectively the Breakfast Club is working and really making a difference. It’s Our Day is working towards a goal of a community-based wellbeing hub for every student at every university. We’re connecting with others saying the same things and our voices are getting louder. We’re going to keep shouting until someone changes the system that let my kids down.