Ever since I can remember I’ve been a carer for my Mum. She’s the most lovely, beautiful woman who unfortunately also suffers from severe depression that often leaves her unable to complete some of the most ordinary tasks.

Her emotions range from extreme lows and frequent suicidal thoughts to high anxiety, erratic paranoia and anger towards the people around her. Some days she can be happy and okay too, and these days have increased over the years, but it is still absolutely distressing to see her in a very low mood.

My job since I was little has been to essentially act as Mum to her. I listen to her on her down days and reassure her things will get better, I calm her paranoia, and I’ve also stopped her from suicide on multiple occasions. It’s a full time job between us, I have my dad around too, and she is always on my mind. Some days it’s scary, sometimes sad, but sometimes inspiring. I’m proud of my mum when she challenges her anxiety and depression, when she pushes for happiness.

I had applied to university, considering it the next obvious next stage for me. Despite the stuff going on at home, I had always really enjoyed my studies at school and I wanted to go on to do maths, and at the time I didn’t really consider the transition to university. It wasn’t until the weeks started leading up to it that I realised I was terrified of leaving mum behind and I knew she was too.

Those weeks she began getting worse, her paranoia was exhausting, she seemed to always be crying and it always felt like my fault. I felt increasingly guilty. On my birthday she attacked me and my dad and went missing for days. I seriously began to doubt whether I should go to university. She seemed to just be getting so bad and I knew it was because of me. She told me a week before I was to leave that she knew a way to kill her and myself. I’d heard her say things like this before, but this was just too much.

Despite all this, I knew I had to go to university. During the holiday I helped her set up contacts with the doctors if she needed anyone, and she had my number plus skype to contact me. I just knew despite my devotion to caring for my mum that it had exhausted me mentally and physically and I needed to leave for my own benefit.

So it happened, and it was just so surreal. Freshers’ week was just so unlike anything that ever happened in my life. My life prior had been so centred on my mum and trying to keep a hold of myself, rarely going out or doing anything, and suddenly I was here, supposed to be having ‘fun’.  I will be honest, I felt completely undeserving. I found it so hard to get into the spirit and missed home a lot, although I wouldn’t admit to it. I was also angry that I wasn’t and I knew I wasn’t ready for the university experience. My summer had been far too crazy for me to mentally prepare for my studies. I had spent so long spending my time worrying about my mum, I couldn’t get my head around looking after myself in the same way. I hid all of this by being unusually extroverted around friends I met, and drinking excessively considering I had never drank before. (Not the best idea but you can get away with it in freshers) For a while I fell into a self destruct mode and one night I replicated a situation I’d seen at home and ended up in hospital.

I can’t begin to tell you how alien it felt. It probably didn’t help that maths at university is a huge step up from A Levels. I found the course really tough at first so on top of my low mood I was worried I was struggling. One day I broke down and told a friend I had met not a few weeks ago how I was feeling, and with their support as well as the support of a psychologist at the local hospital (although arguably, I don’t think they helped much) I started to push myself towards recovery. For the entire semester, although I am incredibly ashamed to say this and call myself a carer, I didn’t go home. I just needed the break and time to actually realise who I was again.

Over the term I grew so much stronger and that Christmas when I went back, I told my mum how hurt I had been about everything. She apologised and cried and told me how she was getting help. I was proud of her. The rest of the holiday went actually okay! So much better than summer, and I realised that actually the extreme stress she’d had over summer was just anxiety for me going. In January I did really well in exams, demonstrating to myself that I can handle university and that I wasn’t struggling with the course like I had feared.

That second semester I turned things around and returned to being a proper carer and went back most weekends to check on her. It can get quite hectic at times, but I’d prefer to be there when I can. Over time I realised none of this had actually been my fault, I forgave myself and taught myself to treat myself better. I also started reading up on other young carers and other people who have shared similar experiences to mine.  I channelled my spare time to positive things, not only doing things I enjoy, such as some of the societies at Uni, but also by raising awareness and helping other young carers who have lived the same experiences. Me and my Mum keep good contact now by text and skype, and I will return home if she needs me. In a lot of senses, Uni has helped both of us. It has helped my mum to develop more independence and build some of her own coping techniques while I’m gone which were dwindling with my constant care, and for me to become more emotionally able to deal with situations that can arise.

This summer I returned to my full time caring role and such a more experienced, happier and stronger person. I know I went back more confident at least and I realised I could help her so much more than I could before!