Yes, it’s a tough step, but don’t make a crisis out of going to university
FOR PARENTS with sons and daughters preparing for the new university year, September is the cruellest month. Forget the hilarity following Waitrose’s claim that essential student kitchen ingredients include tamari soy sauce, harissa paste and organic cider vinegar.
A new university term can leave parents worrying their child may not be able to cope with the pressures of student life.
Will they make the right kind of friends? Will they get the proper balance between studying and partying? Will they deal with the anxiety that social media triggers, making them think they’re missing out on the exciting, interesting experiences others claim to be enjoying?
For new students, it will probably be the first time they have spent a long period away from home. As they embark on this adventure, despite having the security of a smartphone and WhatsApp, Mum or Dad are not there to turn to.
Parental fears are not eased by media stories about youngsters who have gone off the rails, suffered mental health problems and, in extremis, committed suicide. Indeed, this week a study published by Harvard researchers stated that 20 per cent of students had thought about killing themselves.
And official statistics show that between 10 and 30 per cent of the adult population have thought about suicide in the past year.
But as someone who has worked for many years in mental health, I believe these scare stories hide a more reassuring truth.
Without doubt, thinking about suicide can, at times, be a normal human trait. Lots of people do it. But the vast majority are not suffering a mental illness and they certainly have no intention of ever acting on those thoughts.
They are simply reacting badly to commonplace events: a break-up or the death of someone close, for instance. Such feelings are usually transient. People move on — often benefiting from the sympathy of family or loved ones. They are not suffering from a mental illness and don’t need treatment.
This isn’t to ignore the fact some suicidal thoughts can lead to actual suicide. But I am convinced the welter of research in this area causes more alarm than help.
It has become part of modern society’s irresponsible medicalisation of everyday distress — with even the most mundane problem being considered a mental illness necessitating professional help.
With regard to students, they are at an age — late-teens to early20s — when problems seem to mount up and the propensity for mental illnesses is at its highest.
Understandably, universities have strengthened their student support departments over recent years to help those suffering emotional distress.
To me, though, this is another area of concern. Students feel it’s easier to turn to these facilities rather than use NHS mental health services. However, these campus counsellors are rarely trained psychologists or psychiatrists with the ability to identify those with a real, serious mental illness as opposed to those who just need a chat and reassurance.
This means, as I have seen countless times, students with grave conditions — including eating disorders, suicidal depression, severe PTSD, anxiety and emerging psychotic illnesses — are being dealt with by someone who isn’t properly experienced or qualified. THERE is, too, a dangerous knock- on effect — with NHS mental health service staff thinking they can abrogate responsibility to university services when it is their own duty to help instead.
While it is vital that everyone who needs support from the mental health services is able to get it, it’s equally important to realise time at university is, on the whole, a wonderfully positive experience for most young people.
Yes, we all make mistakes. But that doesn’t mean we are suffering mental health problems.
Above all, experiencing and then overcoming life’s difficulties is the making of us as human beings.