Change is difficult, there’s no avoiding that. I’ve always thought of myself as being very change averse and undoubtedly as I’ve got older that’s probably true.
But looking back over my first 50 years on the planet I’ve dealt with a lot of change, often without giving it much of a second thought.
Sending my son off to Uni for the first time has been a hugely emotional time and understandably he has (and still is) finding it hard as well. As I was explaining to him the magnitude of what he was doing - and that is why he was exhausted.
There are very few times in your life where you will completely transport yourself to a new city/town, where you know no-one. You will embark on a new course or career and at the time time learn to cook and fend for yourself, completely independently from your parents.
I keep telling him that he is doing hard things, indeed things that a great many people will simply never experience in their lifetime. Some exhaustion and overwhelm is to be expected.
I was the first person in my family to go to university. I still am for that matter, some 30 years on. Unlike my husbands family where PhDs and degrees abound, no one in my family could offer the slightest bit of help or advice on how uni life would be. In fact if it weren’t for an extremely supportive (and persistent) biology teacher it wouldn’t have occurred to me to apply in the first place. It’s very hard ‘to be what you can’t see’ after all.
My parents were unfailingly supportive and hugely proud but they were acutely aware that I was treading a new path - one that took me in a very different direction to them.
At the time I was blissfully ignorant of all of that. I applied and got a place doing a course I loved. When that ended I applied to jobs, moved to London and set about my new life with enthusiasm, going back home was never even an option. It genuinely didn’t occur to me.
Without realising it I had moved on, moved away and in doing so my life was irrevocably different from that of the rest of my family. Once you forge your own path like that you simply can’t go back.
Looking at it now, it’s clear that in many cases I find myself stuck between two camps.
My roots, my heart and my heritage are firmly northern and working class. It’s how I identify and define myself. I’m proud to be be of a strong line of working class, northern women. But my life, my outward appearances and day to day ‘doings’ couldn’t be more middle class if I tried.
I have a perspective on life that neither my family, nor my friends around me share and at times that can feel very difficult to navigate.
Ironically having spent years thinking I could never move back home, I now find myself thinking that it would be rather nice. It’s strange to think that for all that I define myself as northern, I’ve spent far longer living in the south than I ever did ‘up north’. It’s about time I redressed that balance.
Change comes with curiosity. Curiosity is the proof that you are in touch, alive vibrant to your world and your feelings. Change is the rhythm of life irrespective of ourselves. It happens to us passively whether we desire it or not . I like to think of curiosity as the boat that allows us the bob along with the flow or partly direct ourselves along its course. Curiosity is for me part of the souls expression of its journey rather than just the general journey we all traipse along …. Being alert to every bit of detail and stimulus is demanding. Learning where to put it tiring. Millions upon millions of decisions and evaluations and self supporting everyday - it’s easy to feel overwhelmed in such a vast new landscape and good to rediscover the earth of places we have not trod for years. A rethreading of life’s loom.
So brave of you to share this time with us and in such an open way. I will be wishing you and your son good surprises along the way. At 70+ here in the Pacific NW of the US, it sometimes surprises people to hear that I never attended college, or uni as you say. A born entrepreneur, I always have relied on myself for getting on in life. This said, I have nothing against higher education and love learning in my scatter shot sort of way. In my family I have always thought it very sad that neither my mother or sister ever went on to higher education. It just wasn't in the cards for my mother, a person who loved people and children and read almost daily. Most sad is that my sister bailed in her first year of college and never went back. At the time, I assumed that she would return. She is a terrifically intelligent person and had her eye set on becoming a child psychologist. But she felt alone and unable to befriend the girly girls in her dorm and 'flew the coop' as we say. If I could go back in time, I would have suggested that she try to befriend 1-2 fellow students or even instructors. She had been very popular in high school, and I think it was crushing not to have everyone's good will to support her. So, I guess that is what I might suggest to your son, too. To look for at least one person who maybe shares some classes and seems to be easy to get along with. Offer to buy coffee and talk about how things are going. Even a little step like this can make a big difference in finding one's place at a new location.