(This article was originally published in Wordly Magazine in May 2020. You can read the original article here: https://wordlymagazine.com/2020/05/27/lonely-deakin-the-silent-epidemic/)
Loneliness seems to be an epidemic in our society and, at
university, it’s an insidious problem that often appears invisible. Portrayals
of campus life in TV and film soon give way to the sobering reality that, for
some of us, attending university can be a painfully solitary experience.
As a student of Psychology, these ideas began to percolate as I perused the Deakin Love Letters Facebook page. Like a KFC dinner, it’s a guilty pleasure. It often succinctly and effectively captures the zeitgeist of all campuses on any given day. Before too long, I began to notice an emerging trend in some of the comments and posts: lonely students, crying out for simple companionship and human contact. Sound familiar? Examples of students in second, third, and even fourth year who had ‘no one to talk to’ became commonplace. I was shocked. How could this be possible?
It was sheer dumb luck that I made some friends in my first
week at Deakin. It was affection and a considerable amount of effort that
helped keep us together. Two years later, we’re a surrogate family, even
welcoming a new member into our fold. Typically, we see each other multiple
times a week, simply hanging around, conversing on subjects both profound and
trivial. Common interests certainly helped cement our friendship. A shared
passion for science fiction, anime, and junk food continues to be the glue that
binds us so profoundly.
Speaking solely for myself, my friends have been an
emotional bulletproof vest—a flak jacket protecting me from self-doubt, stress,
depressive episodes, and the ever-present urge to quit university and get a job
at Kmart.
Cheesy as it may be to admit, what we have is unique. Special.
Why don’t others have it? What’s stopping people from making friends?
Why are they so lonely? To answer these questions, I decided a frank
conversation with my own group was in order. They, too, have had little luck
forging new connections outside our circle.
Unsurprisingly, the blame was quickly laid at the feet of
social media, and by extension, increased internet use. This perspective is
hardly novel, but hearing it articulated by my peers was surprising.
One friend offered, ‘People don’t have the social skills
they used to because of social media. Fear of other people is heightened
once the safety net of the phone is removed.’
‘It’s nature versus nurture. Some people have grown up
online. It’s a place where they can behave differently. In the real world, they
have to deal with facial expressions and concepts like sarcasm. Conversation
can be difficult if you don’t know how to read social cues.’
While laziness surrounding social obligations seemed to add
to the problem, my friends were quick to point out that anxiety, a fear of
judgment, and good old-fashioned garden-variety shyness were also contributors.
‘People are standoffish and unwilling to make the first
move. But then again, so was I. Is that shyness? It seems like people are
very guarded, emotionally.’
One can’t blame a new student from being apprehensive.
Commencing study at university is—for most people—a life-altering experience. I
can relate. Fuelled by palm-sweating anxiety, I spent my first full week of
classes frantically talking to everyone I could in an attempt to forge a
connection. Needless to say, I wasn’t always successful. Over-excited (and
wearing far too much aftershave), I probably scared some people away!
During O’Week, I decided to enquire about some of the more
structured social activities offered by Deakin. A friend who lived on campus
for a year offered his perspective:
‘These types of events are fine, but they often cater to the
most extroverted types of people. To those who are more introverted, they are
off-putting. It doesn’t work for everyone.’
Indeed, it seems like those at the more introverted end of
the spectrum constitute a kind of ‘silent majority’ at Deakin. In my own group,
activities are often low key: writing, creative endeavours, movie nights, and
pointless trips to Chadstone. None of us really enjoy drinking, and our time
together is often relaxed and laid back.
‘We introverted people are everywhere—hiding in plain
sight,’ offers another friend who would rather spend his evenings watching
films than going out.
So, what’s the solution? To anyone new to university, I
would humbly offer the following advice: find your people. They’re out there.
People like you—no matter how obscure you think your interests are, someone on
campus will share them. Be brave and invest in the search.
Use your fear and know for certain that you are not the only
one feeling it. If you’re unsure, simply ‘fake it till you make it’. Act with
confidence and, sure enough, real confidence will eventually find you.
Don’t rely on class time to make friends. Sure, they can be
a good place to meet people, but classes are tightly structured, leaving little
space for conversations to breathe. Try and take that budding rapport to the
next level by asking someone to join you for coffee, getting together to study
for an upcoming exam, or even walking to and from class.
Lastly—don’t give up. For those with genuine social anxiety,
this may be easier said than done. University can sometimes seem like a
large, scary machine filled with thousands of people. That just means you have
an even greater chance of success—greater odds that you will find someone who
enjoys the same things as you. University life doesn’t have to feel scary, and
you need not walk the path by yourself. Finding yourself a friend could be one
of the greatest things you could do for your mental health.
