Tag: Student life

The Double-Edged Sword of Living Off-Campus
October 21, 2018 3:08 am Comments Off on The Double-Edged Sword of Living Off-Campus
I am what they call a ‘townie.’ I’m a Canberran through and through and I have never set foot in a Residential Hall. This particular way of life as a student at the ANU provides me with a good set of advantages. Simply making the transition from studying at a secondary level to studying at a tertiary level was sufficiently anxiety-inducing for me. I cannot imagine how stressful it must have been for the students who had to leave their home towns, their families and their comfort zones and essentially restart their lives in an entirely unfamiliar environment on top of starting a degree. I consider myself incredibly lucky that I had my parents to guide me through this huge change in my life. Students who had to move on-campus might not have been so lucky in this way.
Getting to stay at home during my time at university has also meant that I have learnt to be an adult slowly and incrementally. Aspects of adulthood were introduced to me one at a time and only when I was ready for them. First, I agreed to wash the odd dish every once in a while. Then my mum taught me a couple of easy dinner recipes that I could cook for the family. After that, I learnt how to vacuum and take care of my cat. All of that was part of a slow-burning process, as if I were participating in a year-long program about how to adult. From what I’ve heard from some of my on-campus peers, they don’t have a year to learn these skills. They have weeks or days. Their learning curve is significantly steeper than mine and takes place in a completely new living situation.
I do genuinely like living off-campus. The balance between being immersed in campus culture on a regular basis and still having somewhere to go back to at the end of the day means that I don’t have as much of a risk of getting stuck inside of the ‘uni bubble’ that everyone talks about. But despite this, I believe that living off-campus – or rather, never having lived on-campus – has been detrimental in some noticeable ways.
Trying to actually get to campus can be a nightmare for me. I live in the inner-south, which is on the other side of the city from ANU. For a number of reasons, I don’t have a driving license, meaning that I have to rely on Canberra’s slightly dodgy bus system. On a good day, it takes me half an hour to get to uni, whereas for an on-campus student, it might only take 5 minutes. But this isn’t really anything more than a mere inconvenience for me.
My main stumbling block as a result of living off-campus is that I have struggled for both of my two years here at ANU to make friends. When you’re living in a residential hall, college or lodge, you’re around people all the time. Whether you cook with them in the communal kitchen, hang out with them at Hall events or even live with them in a shared room, you are constantly interacting with people. But for me, being not just an off-campus student, but an introverted off-campus student, has really taken a toll on my social life. Luckily, however, there are ways in which I am able to overcome this. Being involved with Woroni for the past year as both a writer and a sub-editor has enabled me to connect with other students from all walks of life through my love of writing. While I am not a part of Griffin Hall, ANU’s non-residential hall for off-campus students, this is great option for those in a similar situation to mine who want a few more opportunities to be part a community. If all else fails, making friends in tutorials is definitely something that happens! But I still can’t help but feel as if living on-campus would have given me a more immediate source for making friends.
Living off-campus presents somewhat of a double-edged sword. You get the comforts of living at home but can sometimes feel disconnected from the rest of the student body. But right now, I am comfortable with how I’m spending my time at uni. That’s all that matters to me.

Phoebe Lupton
Adulting 101
3:05 am Comments Off on Adulting 101
For many of us, coming to uni is our first time living out of home and/or making big decisions about our lives with minimal structure and guidance. Whether it’s filing out our first tax returns, finding time to complete assignments, or keeping in touch with our loved ones, staying across everything we have to do is a scary part of “adulting”. As we become independent and form our own futures, the new things we have to learn and confront can be immensely intimidating. But life is full of potential and opportunity, and a way to balance what we want out of each aspect of our lives really makes all the difference.
Schedule, schedule, schedule.
Getting stuff done give us this incredible sense of achievement – a testament to our potential as responsible humans. Whether you prefer handwritten notes in a diary, or phone apps are your go-to, make note of every plan the moment you make them. This can help avoid double-booking, which can often cause confusion, disappointment, and tension in relationships.
In my schedule I have down social plans, meetings, appointments, and deadlines. This gives me an idea of how stressed I may be at a given time, and I can work my other plans around that. If I know I’ve got three assignments due on one day and I’m going to be too stressed to make food for myself, I might reach out to a friend and ask if I could come over for dinner one of those days.
Prioritise and have a to-do list handy.
Whether it’s laundry, booking a holiday, catching up on lectures, or sending out a single (but very important) e-mail, maintaining an ongoing to-do list can help relieve stress. When we go from tutorials to work and then home, our mindsets change with every activity – what this means is: work will be fresh in your mind, so you’ll be more inclined to follow up with work things, and forget about the tutorial stuff earlier in the day.
Jotting down a short dot point (“degree plan”, “bank”, “groceries”, “Josh”) is usually enough to spark your memory about that particular item; what’s important is to put it down the moment it comes to mind so that you don’t forget it altogether. It’s also crucial to prioritise the items on your to-do list: some things can wait, while others are time-sensitive. So when you find a pocket of free time, take a look at your list and think about what you could get done with the time, energy and resources you have. This is where scheduling and to-do lists come hand-in-hand, as you’ll be able to gauge how you might be travelling after a particularly exhausting day.
Communication and relationships* are so, so important.
From friends, to family, to professional working relationships, the way we relate to people around us can really make or break our experiences in the world. Keeping our loved ones close is one of those things that comes back to us in all kinds of wonderful ways when we need them. However, our time doesn’t need to be spent worrying about where we’re at with people in our lives. Communicate openly and genuinely with others: tell them you love them and when what they’re doing doesn’t sit well with you. Create a culture of honesty that comes from a wish to make things work, and talk about things before they become problems.
If you’re not feeling up to a massive hike you may have planned with someone, tell them, “It’s been a crazy week, and I don’t think I will have the energy to conquer the hike. But I would still love to see you in some capacity. Perhaps we could do something else instead, like go to the markets or bake.” This makes it clear that it’s not themthat you are bailing on, but the specific activity – and it makes them comfortable to do the same in future if they need to!
Pro tip: Combine your to-do list and maintaining relationships. Some of the most memorable hangouts with dear friends have been grocery shopping and hunting down Canberra’s cheapest petrol. When people want to spend time with you, they’ll understand not being able to take a chunk of time out – and chances are they’re on the same boat too – so it’s perfectly okay to suggest that someone come along to return your library books, or ask if you could drive them to the train station.
Keep asking questions and learning.
Nobody has it all figured out. If there’s something in particular that you’re struggling with, reach out to those around you who may be able to point you in the right direction. Whether that’s going to the gym for the first time, or putting together a project proposal and budget, seeking out the guidance of people around us is an act of great humility. Similarly, if you’ve got something covered and someone else is just coming to it, be wary of being dismissive, as they may bring new perspective and insight.
It is also important to keep pushing our comfort zones outward, and to seek out new experiences. This is the way we grow and learn. Trying an activity seemingly unrelated to everything else in our lives may end up opening up opportunities we’d never considered before, or we may meet people who teach us things about ourselves and the world that fascinate us.
Be consistent.
The one thing to remember is to stick to things. Self-care is, at times, about sucking it up and getting stuff done – even if it may be the last thing we want to do. It is easy to find distractions and excuses – and sometimes we may really need that break – but it’s when I’ve pushed myself through a particularly rough time that I’ve felt the proudest of my achievements. Good days and bad days are a reality of our lives, but adulting involves being responsible to ourselves and others, and being able to continue with what we’ve got to do even at our worst. It doesn’t mean ignoring our well-being, but it means giving ourselves a certain amount of tough love and credit for how resilient we really can be!
*I speak of relationships, in this case, as those platonic and otherwise. I believe it’s really important to think about our friendships with the same weight and through a similar lens as our romantic ones, and give them the importance they deserve.

Sumithri Venketasubramanian
On Fibromyalgia
October 9, 2018 1:30 pm Comments Off on On Fibromyalgia
The first doctor said “it’s a legitimate illness, and it can be very painful”. In some ways, that gave me hope- my pain was validated. The second doctor said “well I don’t really believe in that”. I let him treat me for a year and I think his disbelief did just as much damage as the illness itself. The third doctor said “well it’s just a diagnosis of elimination, it doesn’t mean very much”. By that time, I was immune to the scepticism. It had been three years and I’d heard this a lot.
Fibromyalgia is a condition characterised by widespread pain, extreme fatigue and sleep problems. Some people report having a kind of ‘foggy’ brain, where they feel they can’t remember simple things they used to know. There is no known cause or cure. Sometimes it is attributed to a combination of genetic and environmental factors, especially a physical or mental trauma. Some think it is a problem with the way the brain processes pain, in that all pain is being amplified to unprecedented levels. Others think it’s ‘all in the brain’ (as in our brains are making it up), but I reject this- all pain comes from the brain.
None of this is actually very helpful to someone living with possible fibromyalgia pain. There is really no medicine to help; Panadol and Nurofen are essentially useless (in my experience) and doctors will rarely prescribe anything stronger. This is primarily because stronger drugs are not thought to make any difference to the pain anyway. But it is the case also that too many people believe fibromyalgia sufferers have just made up a bunch of symptoms in order to get access to drugs.
Trust me, it wouldn’t be worth it. I’ve read horror stories online of people in screaming in pain only to be denied proper care in hospital. I’ve heard hundreds of people talk about the years it took to get a diagnosis and the amount of bureaucratic disbelief they had to push against. I personally spent hours of my time with doctors, having MRIs and going over things time again before I was told it was probably fibromyalgia.
Fibromyalgia disproportionately affects women, and I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that this alone has denied thousands of people proper treatment and support. It is a societal shame that women presenting with agonising pain are not believed, are accused of being a drug addict or have all their symptoms chalked down to depression. My hairdresser opened up to me about his struggle with fibromyalgia and it felt like he was talking about a different illness. He was supported, his doctors nipped it in the bud through telling him exactly what treatments (yoga and diet change) would work for him. They even helped him get a nutritionist. And then there was me, sitting there, thinking about how I couldn’t even get my doctor to believe in holistic practices. In fact, I couldn’t even get him to believe me.
People with fibromyalgia are angry. Go on to any online forum and you’ll find people who’ve been trodden on by the system. They are fighting these battles every day, and worst of all, they’re in severe pain during all of it. It’s no wonder the rates of people with fibromyalgia who don’t believe it’s actually a real condition are still pretty high.
For a long time- too long- I have been one of those people. My relationship with fibromyalgia is fraught at best. I’ve been conditioned by the scepticism of those around me to be a sceptic myself. But where has that left me? The word is so hard for me, I don’t even say it. I can’t remember the last time I said to someone “I have fibromyalgia”. Mostly I say “I have chronic pain”. Often I just say “I’m fine.” I have lied to a lot of people about the level of pain I’m in. And who am I hurting? Just myself. The controversy and vitriol directed at fibromyalgia is denying my pain, denying who I am at this moment.
The goal is then to be myself, start making a fuss and start getting people to listen. But we as a whole need to change the way we talk about pain. Change the way we listen to women in pain with no obvious physical trauma. Because I can promise you, if someone tells you they have fibromyalgia, they don’t want your sympathy, your opinion or your drugs- they want you to say “I believe you”.

Miriam Sadler
On Being (Re)Diagnosed
1:16 pm Comments Off on On Being (Re)Diagnosed
About eighteen months ago I wrote an article for Woroni for a Spoons edition, about being a type-1 diabetic. So here I am again, doing the exact same thing. What has changed? Where is my new material? Surely I have moved on, expressed whatever sentiment I needed to last time. Maybe there is a new medical breakthrough in the field? And we are one step closer to a cure? Except, there isn’t, and, we’re not.
Everything I faced eighteen months ago, I still face today, and will face again tomorrow. Inevitably I am just a little more wearied by it all, a little more frustrated that things don’t seem to have gotten ‘better’. But how can they, when I’ve so far rejected this part of myself?
It is like that old myth that lightning never strikes in the same place twice. I was diagnosed with diabetes when I was ten years old, yet as I approach my twenty-second birthday, it feels as though I am dealing with it afresh all over again. I have found that with the diagnosis of a chronic illness comes a second diagnosis; a time much later when you feel the same initial confusion, anxiety and isolation you felt all those years ago. A time when you are, in a sense, reawakened to the fact that this illness is a fundamental aspect of your life. The tiny part of you which harboured some false, unhelpful hope that it was all only temporary is shattered, and in its place crashes the weighted realisation that this is permanent.
For me, this probably correlates with a more defined move into adulthood. Along with the usual angst and worries we all feel about the future and its uncertainty, there is an additional feeling of suffocation in acknowledging that whatever direction you are headed in, you will have your illness trailing along behind you the whole time. Financial anxieties are a given; before I even engage in the debate between smashed avocado v owning a house, my thoughts are whether I will eventually be able to afford all my medical costs. My insulin pump, a machine which administers insulin through a cannula, costs around $10,000 if not covered by private health insurance. Those who know me are aware that I do not have a single maternal instinct within me; yet if I ever want to consider having children in the future, being a type-1 diabetic already means I have a higher chance of infertility, as well as carrying increased risks of birth defects, heart abnormalities and miscarriage.
Then there is the rather morbid issue of confronting your own mortality almost on a daily basis. In addition to a host of complications, such as neuropathy, mismanagement of type-1 diabetes can be fatal. I don’t get anxious about growing old; I get anxious that I may never get the chance to grow old at all.
I remember crying to my friend after school one day when I was eleven, telling her that I wouldn’t live past the age of fifty. Now, I actually have no idea where I had pulled that number from, and it was fairly dramatic and unfounded, but when something as simple as forgetting a spare AAA battery for my insulin pump can be a life-threatening mistake, it isn’t easy to remain so rational, or even hopeful, about the future. Part of me still hurts for the scared and confused young girl that I was, and part of me still empathises too – because she seems to have resurfaced lately.
So, the shiny allure of finally receiving Youth Allowance has been somewhat eclipsed by being re-diagnosed. However, instead of ignoring it, or trying to so desperately pretend it doesn’t exist, this time around I am acutely aware that the only helpful response is to accept it. In the past I have tried to prevent it from limiting me in anyway, but anything I achieved I did so fighting against my body: I wanted to prove that I could accomplish things in spite of being diabetic, rather than being capable of things as a diabetic.
To ‘embrace’ my illness is a bit ambitious for me, but a good first step is at least acknowledging it as something that shapes the person I am and aspire to be. That doesn’t mean it has to define me, but if I don’t start aligning goals for managing my illness with my ambitions for the future, I may not have a very bright one.
If I compare what I wrote last year to what I am writing now, I realise that before I was challenging others to understand and accept diabetes, without actually having done that myself. My new challenge is now a personal one, and I hope that maybe in eighteen months’ time I will be able to reflect on this period of re-diagnosis as a formative and strengthening moment. And maybe I will even write about it again.

Stephanie Kerr
That One Time Google Told Me to Figure it Out Myself.
1:06 pm Comments Off on That One Time Google Told Me to Figure it Out Myself.
I’m someone who is in limbo. On paper, I have a disability, although this is something that I’m too afraid to say out loud. I’m afraid that people will not believe me or even criticise me for claiming to have a disability. A big part of me agrees with them, and that’s why for the most part, I don’t identify as someone who is disabled. I’m not physically disabled, and to most people, I don’t seem to be limited in what I can do.
However, every day I have to take medication in order to function as a regular person. I can’t do certain things that most people have the option of doing. Every once in a while, something will happen that will remind me that I am not normal. That I have a mutation that nothing or no one had any control over.
I suffer from epilepsy. Juvenile Myoclonic epilepsy, to be specific. When I saw a post asking for those who identify as suffering from a disability to share their story, I kept scrolling. I assumed it didn’t apply to me. It didn’t stop me from asking myself – is epilepsy a disability? Am I someone who is, on paper, disabled?
I turned to Google (I know, don’t judge me). According to Epilepsy Action Australia, “most people with epilepsy do not consider themselves to have a disability especially if they do not experience significant limitations…Regardless of how or when epilepsy developed and if it is completely controlled with medication, people with epilepsy are protected by the Disability Discrimination Act.”
So essentially Google was telling me to figure it out myself – do I identify as being disabled or not? As someone who has grown up with a disabled sibling and seen the struggles, stigma, assumptions and limitations that my sibling faces – no, I don’t identify as suffering from a disability. When I think about this, a part of me feels ridiculous for even considering writing an article about me and my epilepsy.
However, before I settled things then and there – I decided to turn to one other source of information. The source that always manages to answer the questions that Google can’t. I went to my Mum.
So at 11:30 pm on a Tuesday night, I flicked Mum a message, asking her if she thinks my epilepsy is a disability. Her answer reminded me of all of the changes myself, and my family, have had to make. Of how my epilepsy has really impacted my life.
Every day, twice a day, I have to take medication. If I don’t, then I start having fits. One fit, and I legally can’t drive for 12 months. When everyone else was turning 16 and getting their licence, I had to wait 18 months before I could drive due to fits and medication changes.
I also constantly find myself in a tricky situation – the main precipitators of my fits are stress and lack of sleep. As I am a university student, stress and late nights are unfortunately too common. Exam period has the extra stress of me waiting for a fit to happen, but I’ve been very lucky that so far I haven’t experienced any major fits or seizures.
However, one of the scariest parts about all of this is that generalised tonic-clonic seizures (also known as grand mal seizures, that cause your entire body to spasm and convulse and there is nothing you can do to stop them) are reported in nearly every person who has Juvenile Myoclonic epilepsy. I have never suffered from one of these, but I have been told to be prepared for it. I don’t know when, where, why or even if it will happen – all I know is that at any moment I could go into a full-blown seizure and have no control.
When I think about my family, I am reminded that my epilepsy has had an impact on my them, and not just myself. From the medications and emotional mood swings that go with them to the VERY expensive neurologist appointments – my family were there for it all. The random calls I get from Mum reminding me about SUDEP (sudden unexpected death in epilepsy) and how she is worried I’ll become a statistic reminds me that even if I’m not worried about my epilepsy, my family certainly is.
Ultimately, I’m lucky that I have access to medications and specialists which allow me to live a relatively ‘normal’ life – something which I have realised is a privilege that too many people are not able to access. I would encourage everyone reading this to go and support groups such as the ANU Disabilities Student Association and advocate for those who have disabilities to be given a fair go. From the NDIS to the resources that are available here at the ANU we can always do better to support those who rely on these resources –
– and we must do better.

Madeleine Sinnis
OCDon’t
12:47 pm Comments Off on OCDon’t
I’m sitting in a cafe just off-campus sipping overpriced coffee at 3:30 in the afternoon when it occurs to me that I don’t know how to write this story. I can give a list of dos and don’ts, but that’s kind of overplayed, isn’t it? Lists are, by and large, boring. I’ve written and edited too many in this past semester. There’s got to be something else.
I could write a poem – sure, it’s been a while since I last sat down and put my thoughts down in that way, but leaving room for interpretation means nothing can really be pinned on me when it comes down to it. Oh, you read that poem as a metaphor for [insert subject here]? Cool, cool. I’m open to that.
Maybe I should tell this story for what it is: a story. I was nineteen when I got my first real job at a cafe, and one of the supervisors was showing me the ropes. She was heaving the doughnut mixing bowl to the dishwasher and blasting leftover dough off the rim with the pressure hose. “Usually people just leave it here,” she shouted over the spray, “but I’m a little OCD, so I clean it.”
I laughed politely and changed the subject. A year later, I had another job, and another supervisor said the exact same thing. I don’t doubt that any workplace, in food service all the way to Tesla, is free of the most tried and tested joke in the book: I’m a little OCD. Aren’t we all?
Here’s another story: I’m fifteen and talking to a psychiatrist because I freeze up and panic when there’s a mess. I’m sixteen and my therapist tells me that no, most people don’t have a capital-T Thing about the number five. I’m seventeen and I graduate high school with a decent ATAR – nothing to brag about because I figured that I didn’t really deserve the extra points from disability support. I’m eighteen and uni is great, except I’m taking three showers a day to make sure things stay that way.
The ‘too long, didn’t read’ definition of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder is this: an anxiety disorder categorised by the presence of obsessive thoughts and/or compulsive behaviours. Obsessions are recurring intrusive thoughts that cause significant amounts of distress; compulsions are the repetitive actions or counter-thoughts used to combat that distress. Here’s the kicker: people with OCD are fully aware that most of the time, the connection between our obsessions and compulsions is totally arbitrary. I know three showers aren’t going to give me an HD-average, but damn if my OCD is going to test that. This is magical thinking in action; if I stick to this completely random, capricious routine, then all the things I’m scared of won’t happen.
Here’s the thing: whenever someone makes an OCD joke, no matter how benign, it takes that whole experience and slam-dunks it in the trash. According to the Royal Australian College of General Practitioners, approximately 1.9 per cent of all Australians live with OCD. That’s just a conservative estimate because this condition is so heavily stigmatised that people don’t want to talk about their own experiences. Whenever someone makes an OCD joke, it’s more than just making a joke: it’s trivialising the stories of every single one of those people, and more.
I don’t want to sound preachy – we all know by now that preaching just pisses people off. Preaching is what pushes people away, and right now I want to connect us through the common goal of not being a dickhead. So, let’s try it out for a change: don’t be a dickhead. Next time you want to describe something as OCD (and this goes for any disorder), take a second to think about what you’re really saying. Because eventually, I want to tell this story without being just another part of someone’s boring repertoire.

Anonymous
The Importance of Surface-Level Awareness Raising for Mental Health
12:40 pm Comments Off on The Importance of Surface-Level Awareness Raising for Mental Health
Eleanor is a member of the batyr@anu executive team and has spoken for batyr.
In the wake of large scale events, such as Mental Health Day on 10th October, there is often conversation to do with the value of awareness-raising campaigns. People may question the value of such initiatives that seem only to only scratch the surface of the tough issues, or even ‘trivialise’ the lived experiences of those with mental ill-health. Messages such as ‘reach out’, ‘ask your friend if they’re OK’ or ‘self-care’ can feel empty or potentially patronising to someone who struggles with ‘real’ deep-seated demons. In the ANU context, these campaigns can feel especially empty given the strain on the mental health and pastoral care resources available and the over-saturation of government outreach bodies.
I’d like to make a case in favour of these campaigns; to demonstrate that they make an impact upon the community by doing more than just getting people ‘talking about it’. While only, for example, writing down ‘one thing I’ll do for my mental health this year’ may seem meaningless, it can be the start of intention setting and a conversation with friends. In no way do organisations in the early intervention campaign space think they can fix major issues, such as overworked counsellors and poor quality of service. They aim, instead, to start discussion before and beyond when many individuals reach a crisis point. A seed planted is worth far more than nothing at all, especially when it doesn’t require excessive amounts of effort from the recipient. The reality is that most people don’t often set aside a dedicated period to talk about mental ill-health and check in with each other, so having a day or an occasion is necessary. It is often friends who are first responders to disclosure of mental ill-health, and it is important to nourish a culture of acceptance and proactive listening within that demographic. Rather than being shallow, these campaigns are an important way to broach a somewhat uncomfortable subject for many people.
This is especially important when people of a variety of backgrounds and levels of exposure to ideas relating to mental ill-health convene in a place like a university, so as to avoid a self-perpetuating stigma cycle exacerbated by lack of understanding. Mental health awareness campaigns should aim to be intersectional and cater for a variety of experiences, by understanding that different cultures, abilities, genders (among other things) all experience mental ill-health differently. This is due to the combination of various stigmas they must contend with. For instance, not everyone can relate to ‘keeping a stiff upper lip mentality’ as a prerogative and similarly, not everyone is comfortable talking about ‘feelings’. Issues relating to identity and acceptance can also be a major source of stress for young people, making this especially important.
Ultimately, the aim of these campaigns is to promote understanding, leading to a climate in which people feel as though they can seek help. However, it is also worth noting that increased help-seeking leads to increased demand, so it is important that the support is there for those who seek it, so as not to be a discouraging experience. If most people in the community understand the prevalence of these situations, and friends can also recognise symptoms of mental ill-health in their peers, a more proactive and recovery-oriented environment is created for those in the middle of a period of poor mental health.
It is impractical to initially engage a wide audience with sudden deep analyses of the scourge of mental ill-health upon the population. Sometimes it is necessary to cater to a particular audience, on a practical level, as the general public is not necessarily inclined to want to listen to information that can get them down themselves. Presenting the issue of mental health (with sensitivity of course) in an upbeat and smile-first way is both pleasant and pragmatic rather than ridiculous. This is the way in which organisations are often able to recruit wider support – such as in the corporate sphere – where issues such as ‘image’ do come into play. At the end of the day, these are the bodies with resources to contribute towards genuine research, education and general progress when it comes to the support of people living with mental ill-health. It may be worth spending a bit of money on merchandise or social media if it means that it will one day result in a substantial donation. Such a dilemma is one faced by many of those in advocacy roles, but an outcomes-focussed approach can be preferable over a highly principled, yet unproductive, one.
However, mental health advocacy is of course about more than just the slogans and the marketing. Despite the stigma surrounding the more common examples of mental ill-health (like depression and anxiety) being gradually broken down, this is not applied universally across the board. There certainly needs to be more attention paid to the less commonly understood varieties of mental ill-health. There remains a divide between the ‘crazy’ and the ‘down/stressed’. Whilst people are often happy to talk about mental ill-health in terms of ‘wellbeing’, conditions such as bipolar disorder and eating disorders still often elicit some level of judgement and the potential perception of fault of the individual. It is generally more acceptable to a degree nowadays to be ‘not doing so well’ – people are practicing greater forgiveness for themselves and each other.
Yet, there are certainly some problematic characteristics of the ways in which ‘not being OK’ can be romanticised in internet culture and how the narrative of ‘I have problems so I’m different/special’ is played out in the minds of young people as a result. It is also important to note the divide between having a ‘bad day’ and having substantial periods of mental ill-health, so as not to create misunderstanding or to invalidate the experiences of those with these difficulties. This is where health providers and educators can work together to elucidate what mental ill-health actually looks like. Furthermore, there is a place for dedicated organisations that aim at general prevention, reducing stigma and wider culture change – such as batyr. It is going to be the university students of today at the helm of meaningful whole-community change in a decade or so. This doesn’t have to necessarily be in direct mental health action, but can be involved in disseminating attitudes in the workplace in the long term.
So, next time someone on campus or at your residential hall wants to run what seems like ‘just another awareness campaign’, know that, whilst there is still much to be improved upon in the mental health advocacy sphere, it could be the conversation that helps a person too afraid to address topics that are ‘deep’ or ‘difficult’ to speak up. Whilst many mental health services are terribly under-funded and those contending with mental ill-health are under-supported, it is still important to open dialogue. If an environment is created where help-seeking for a mental health condition is encouraged, that could be the difference between one person reaching out or suffering in silence. If a simple campaign makes even a bit of a positive impact on someone’s well-being, surely then, it’s worth it.

Eleanor Armstrong
A fair start for students
September 11, 2018 4:40 pm Comments Off on A fair start for students
To someone older and wiser (and richer),

The future of our country currently lies in the hands of people who cannot make ends meet. Tertiary students are expected to complete 40 hours of study a week (the equivalent of full time work) while working to support themselves financially and living away from home, often not by choice. This means that in order to support themselves financially, students are forced to make study a second priority.

The biggest hindrance to students studying away from home is an inability to receive Centrelink payments. Young people are considered financially dependent on their parents until they are 22, by which point, many will have finished their degrees. It is unrealistic to expect every student to be in a position where they are financially supported by their parents. The current Centrelink conditions imposed on students overlook the significant number of families that live between being poor enough to be eligible for Centrelink and wealthy enough to afford to support a child through university.

If we truly want an agile economy, we need a young, educated and energetic workforce. How can we expect students to fill this role when they are beaten down by their living conditions, wondering when they are going to be able to eat their next meal?

I am writing to you today to seek your assistance with sharing my story and helping to begin the conversation on the struggle our students face today, in the hope that exposure and momentum will bring about change.

I am a third year student at the Australian National University studying a double degree in politics, philosophy and economics and international security studies. To do this degree, I had to move away from my home and family who live in Townsville, North Queensland. As I am 19 years old, Centrelink considers me a ‘dependent’ and my parents’ combined salaries and assets are such that I am unable to receive any financial assistance from the government while I study. However, a series of unfortunate and unpredictable events have left my parents without the capacity to financially support me.

I am legally an adult. I can drive a car, vote in elections, purchase property, join the defence force, accumulate thousands of dollars of debt, drink alcohol, pay taxes, sign legal documents, travel overseas and be tried in a court the same as any other adult for any crimes I commit. All of this, I can do without the express permission of my parents. I am legally responsible for the decisions I make. The law treats me the same as it does a 25 year old, or a 53 year old. But not when it comes to Centrelink. For some reason, the government has deemed me financially dependent on my parents until I turn 22, unless, of course, I spend at least a year in full time work. But I dare you to try and find full-time work as a 17 year old with nothing but a high school certificate and no interest in trade. It’s not an easy task. Believe me, I’ve tried.

Ah, but there’s a loophole… I just need to get married, or have a baby. Then I’ll be ‘independent’. Believe me when I say that these are solutions some students have actually considered. Can you imagine that? Seriously considering life-changing decisions like having a child just so you can put food on the table?

To be able to continue my studies, I work two jobs. This is on top of the expected 40 hours a week of study I am expected to do to maintain my status as a full-time student and be able to remain in my on-campus accommodation. Even working most afternoons and evenings, often doing early morning shifts and weekend shifts, I am unable to meet all my necessary expenses.

I do not tell you my story with the intention of earning your pity. Nor do I tell you it in the hope that you will possess some magical solution that will alleviate the pressures I face. I tell you my story because I know it is not the exception to the rule. My experiences are not unusual. I hear similar stories around university all the time. And various studies have revealed that the evidence is more than simply anecdotal. Two thirds of undergraduate university students experience financial hardship with an annual income under $20,000. One in five students survive on just $10,000 a year. Both of these figures fall far from the national minimum wage. One in three students report regularly missing university classes due to work commitments. One in five students must regularly go without food because they cannot afford it.

Financial stress is a serious problem for university students today. And in 2018, when education is Australia’s third largest export industry, and the government preaches the importance of educating young people, students should not have to wonder where their next meal is coming from and how long they will have to go hungry.

And yet whenever I mention this struggle I am told “that’s what uni’s about” or “living on instant noodles and spending your leftover cash on cheap booze is why uni is the best time of your life”. I fail to see how it could be the best time of my life when I am trying to work out a budget and determine how many meals I can eat this week. Students are responsible for this too. The common “Dude, I’m so broke this week”, that we have all been guilty of dropping to friends at least once adds to this rhetoric, and is only going to increase our apathy towards to the very real problems faced by students, unless we make a change.

We as a society cannot continue to romanticise the lifestyle of the ‘broke uni student’. Trivialising the financial hardship of students makes us apathetic to the real problem of poverty and financial struggle that is severely impacting the lives of young people across Australia. If we do nothing to improve a system that makes life for students near impossible, we not only set them up to fail but we disadvantage our entire society. We need to make conscious and significant change. We need to give students a fair start.

Sincerely

A broke uni student.

Kira Ahyick
ANU Student Rebecca Beath Joins NRL Touch Premiership
June 28, 2018 9:36 am Comments Off on ANU Student Rebecca Beath Joins NRL Touch Premiership
ANU Engineering and Science student Rebecca Beath has made it into the NRL Touch Premiership, playing for the Parramatta Eels Women’s team. I asked Bec a few questions about her experience as a student athlete after she won her first game in the competition earlier this month.
How long have you been playing touch and what drew you to the sport? Can you tell me a bit about your involvement with ANU Touch?
‘I’ve been playing touch since I was 10 years old. I always enjoyed running around with the footy at recess and lunch throughout primary school, and from there I made my first ACT rep team and haven’t looked back since! I think I got drawn to touch because I always wanted to be like my big brothers playing footy, but was never a fan of the contact involved in tackling, so touch was a great middle ground! I got involved with ANU Touch in my first year of uni (2013) when I signed up for Uni Games. From then I’ve made my best mates at uni through the Touch Club, and was President from 2014-15 as well.’
Has ANU played a part in shaping you as an athlete?
‘ANU has played a part in my athletic career by offering awesome facilities to train in, and the elite athlete program run by Billy Mason. I’m not involved with the program any more due to time constraints but it is an awesome way to get the guidance needed in the gym to achieve great results! Support from lecturers and tutors has always been great too, they’ve always been understanding if I miss a class or need an extension due to my sporting commitments.’
How did you become involved with the NRL Touch Premiership?
‘I play Touch football up in Sydney for the Manly Sea Eagles, and also for the Alliance at the Elite 8 competition. When the Premiership was announced, players from NSW were selected into squads for the three NSW teams, and I was lucky enough to get picked in the Parramatta Eels side!’
What has it been like balancing commitments to study and work with playing professional-level sport?
‘It’s been really difficult, but with strict time management it’s possible! Travelling to Sydney twice a week takes its toll, but by preparing early and knowing what I have coming up, I can make sure I get all the work done that I need to.’
What advice would you give to ANU students who are aspiring to achieve similar heights in their athletic careers?
‘I would say don’t be afraid to approach lecturers and tutors if you need a little extra help! It’s always hard to manage both study and sporting careers, but when plenty of notice is given, lecturers can be quite accommodating and do all they can to help you out. Depending on your sport, elite level opportunities may not come around too often, so be sure to take them when they come!’
Are you feeling optimistic about prospects of winning the Premiership?
‘I think we have a really good shot at winning the Premiership. We’ve got a bit to work on from our first game, but if we play the best touch we can I know we can get a win on the 30th and then in the final up in QLD. It’ll be tough against some of the best players in the country, but hard work can get us there.’

Alisha Nagle
In the Spotlight: ANU Flautist Serena Ford
9:19 am Comments Off on In the Spotlight: ANU Flautist Serena Ford
ANU student and 2018 winner of Canberra Youth Orchestra’s Concerto Competition Serena Ford will be a highlight performance at the upcoming CYO concert on 30 June. The CYO, which celebrated its 50th anniversary in 2017, performs four concerts a year at Llewellyn Hall and is the premier youth symphony orchestra in the ACT and wider region. I caught up with Serena before the big performance to ask about her musical journey:
‘I first started playing the flute in grade 5 with the Instrumental Music Program like many young Canberrans. I started because I really enjoyed, and still do, playing with other people. There’s a kind of ritual to playing music together and it doesn’t matter what music style you are exploring, it’s just such a communal, human experience, so that’s what first got me into music.’
‘I do feel this is a milestone for me. In the past I just played music because I enjoyed it, so I never did exams or any of the prestigious stuff to formally recognise the level I was at. This concert has become a symbol of all the work from my past years of practise, so that’s a really good feeling. The piece I’m playing is called Flute de Pan and it’s based off the Greek mythology creature, Pan, who I’m sure many of our classical studies students would be interested in. It’s a really interesting story since Pan is actually often credited as the inventor of the flute since he was chasing a nymph who transformed herself into reeds, which he then snapped and began to play as a flute.’
Alongside her musical achievements Serena is studying a Bachelor of Asia-Pacific studies here at ANU. I asked Serena how she manages to balance studying with being a committed flautist.
‘It has been quite a busy few years at university! I have to do a lot of intense planning at the start of semester to make sure I meet all my musical aims and academic aims in time and at a good level, and I practise every day. Although music is also an intellectual process in many ways, it helps me to practise a bit of flute in between massive study sessions so that I’m stimulating my brain with new tasks and keeping myself energised.’
Serena’s career at ANU started in year 12 at the Open School of Music, which she said exposed her to a new level of music learning. ‘In a more abstract way, I’ve found that through my other non-music specific studies at the ANU, the emphasis has always been on thinking about concepts in novel ways. Interestingly, this has really helped with the way I approach new pieces, since I realise there is a depth of thought and complex processes that go into writing a piece of music from the composers.’
Despite the concert’s prestige, Serena said she isn’t feeling too apprehensive about performing yet:
‘The funny thing is that it doesn’t really hit me that I’m going to be in-front of people performing until two seconds before I actually get on stage. So for the moment I feel pretty relaxed, but I know what’s coming! Sometimes I get so into the zone from performing that I don’t actually have solid memories of playing. I don’t remember any details between the moment of getting on stage and getting off. So I think I prefer to let the nerves come to me when they do and just focus on my technique and sound for the moment.’
I asked Serena about why students should get involved in Canberra’s orchestral scene and how other budding musicians can get motivated.
‘I think the main aversion most young Canberrans have toward the orchestral scene comes from the belief that it’s only traditional, classical music. We actually dabble in a whole bunch of different stuff, with the CYO playing alongside the jazz trumpeter, James Morrison last year, an a cappella group, The Idea of North, and plans to play a student study favourite later this year – film soundtrack music.’
‘Orchestral music can explore all sorts of human experiences and emotions. When you’re watching musicians onstage, they are engaging in a medium of human communication, since they are interpreting the collection of sounds and feelings and presenting it to the audience, who also have the chance to experience and interpret it in a different way again. It’s really magic and I highly recommend listening to as much live music as possible, since each new live performance is an expression of a mood and orchestral music covers the whole spectrum of emotion and styles.’
‘Following passions you have outside of study life really enriches your everyday life. When I’m stressed out about my studies, I practise my flute and that makes me feel better. When I’m stressed out about my flute, I study! The important thing is to pursue things that will give you satisfaction and which allow you space from only doing one task your whole day or week. It’s not about distraction or procrastinating, it’s just a really nice way to fulfil yourself and spend time cultivating the things that make you feel most content. I guess my last bit of advice is that getting into the zone and focusing deeply on whatever you’re doing, whether it’s practising the piano for fun, cooking in between study sessions or studying itself, feels dang good! And it’s good for you, too.’
Musical director of the CYO and ANU convener Leonard Weiss said that CYO is delighted to feature one of its own in the upcoming performance.
‘For me, it’s such a pleasure to conduct an orchestra that inherently brings a lot of energy and enthusiasm to each rehearsal and especially the performance,’ Leonard told me. ‘For the most part, every musician is approaching this repertoire for the first time, so there is a genuine hunger for and appreciation of each new piece that we perform, which I think is evident to our audiences.’

Alisha Nagle