Why Embracing Support Changed My University Experience
- Zane Thomas
- Mar 17
- 5 min read
Just shy of 18, I boarded a plane from Dhaka to Sydney. Nervous about starting a new chapter away from my family, but ready to figure out my dreams of growth.
I had secured a spot to study in Australia, a foreign place I had never ventured, but being far away from home I felt excited. The naivety and thrill of independence overshadowed the reality of what was to come. Unknowingly, I was unequipped for the isolation and immense pressure to define my academic future.
It was a constant ticking. If I did not have the answer from the get-go, university would lead to failure. As a young African woman raised in a society where resilience was a badge of honour, the idea of not knowing what I wanted to study was not something I was comfortable voicing out loud. I thought struggling in silence was the path to direction, a part of the journey. Luckily, I started with a foundation course at university that was designed to help me. While I excelled at the foundation level, the first official year of university was abysmal. It wasn’t until I hit a breaking point that I realised I couldn’t do it alone.
The Unspoken Struggles
Adjusting to university life as an international student was harder than I had anticipated. I was suddenly thrust into a world where everything from food to accents was unfamiliar. Making friends wasn’t easy, but it wasn't impossible. By sheer luck, I gravitated to a group of like-minded African women, each eager to embrace their independence and make the most of the opportunity to earn a foreign degree. Together, we shared the common goal of making our parents back home proud and seizing every chance to succeed.
Despite the connections I had made, I found myself retreating into solitude. My coursework was rigorous, and I felt the weight of both my expectations and those of my family back home. I couldn’t afford to fail, but I was failing not just academically, but mentally. The effort of school and working part-time, combined with ‘growing pains’ as a young woman meant that I suddenly had indescribable needs, all added to the deep homesickness I felt. It is strange to think of being homesick after the excitement of being in a new place. It did not matter what clubs I went to, or how hard I tried to ingrain myself in activities the university offered, I couldn’t prevent the toll on my well-being.
In my community, mental health wasn’t a topic openly discussed. Seeking help was often seen as a sign of weakness, opening oneself to jest. Unfortunately, I had internalised that belief. I convinced myself that I just needed to try harder, sleep less, and push through. But that approach only made things worse. It was gradual, and I didn't pick up on it. It seemed overnight when suddenly, nothing mattered.
The Turning Point
Everything came to a head during my second year. I was burned out, my barely decent grades slipped, and I did not have the energy to get out of bed. For over a year, I was isolated. It was a suffocating comfort that I understood and wrangled with. I also started experiencing anxiety attacks. Eventually I came to realise that it was never about me, but always about the looming disappointment.
In my circle of friends, they too were enduring a mixed bag of concerns. Each person trying hard to wrestle with their own life. One of my roommates who was also my best friend decided to get married and leave university. In my mind, she was abandoning me. It was at this point that I finally acknowledged that change needed to happen.
Initially, I contacted student services to enquire about my visa status. After asking questions regarding the resources available to me as an international student, I was guided to a student counsellor. There, I was encouraged to seek support through the university's counselling services. The idea terrified me. As an over-thinker, the thought of speaking so openly with a stranger did not resonate with me. Before every session, I thoroughly planned my words to prevent being perceived as unserious or worse — a lunatic.
Walking into that counselling office was difficult. Since it was on the other side of campus, I took my time walking there, allowing self-doubt to wash over me with every step. The counsellor's office was in a discreet part of campus, almost designed to offer students a cloak of cornered spaces to face their inner demons. By the time I reached the door, I understood there was no turning back.
Faced with uncertainty, those steps became the best decision I could have ever made. The counsellor spoke to me without judgement. She listened, validated my feelings, and helped me understand that I wasn't a failure. Through her coping techniques, she introduced me to the concept of 'stress' — a feeling I hadn't allowed myself to acknowledge —and encouraged me to consider it as a legitimate emotion. I wasn't losing my mind. In fact, mindfulness and structured self-care routines were my prescription. As I left the office, it felt surreal. "It can't be that simple," was a recurrent thought plaguing my mind. Following her advice, I joined the gym, structured my daily routine, and opened up to my best friend. To my surprise, she was too struggling in her marriage and coping in her own way. We discovered we were dealing with similar struggles, and for the first time, I truly felt understood.
Shaking Off the Stigma
Since then, I have questioned why I had been so resistant to seeking help in the first place. The stigma surrounding mental health, especially in African communities runs deep. We are often taught to “pray it away” or to simply endure hardships without complaint. But mental health struggles are real, and they require real solutions. In my case, those solutions didn't require a medical prescription.
Had I sought help earlier, I would have saved myself from unnecessary suffering. I learned that mental health services aren’t just for moments of crisis—they are a form of self-care, a way to ensure you’re functioning at your best. Universities provide these resources for a reason, and students, especially international students, should take full advantage of them. If I could go back in time and talk to my younger self, I would tell her this: You don’t have to struggle alone. Seeking help is not a sign of weakness; it is an act of strength. Universities have resources for a reason, and they exist to support students in navigating the pressures of academic life.
I know now but often need reminders that there is no shame in asking for help. Mental well-being is just as important as academic success, and normalising these conversations will improve the university experience. My journey wasn’t easy, but embracing support changed everything. It allowed me to find balance, thrive, and make the most of my time at university. I have since graduated and persist to figure my way through life.