Auntie SparkNotes: I Couldn’t Cope At College and My Parents Are Blaming Me

Dear Auntie SparkNotes,

It’s gonna be a long email, so buckle up.

I have pretty severe depression, anxiety and a lovely little brain-devil known as Pure-Obsessional Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, which basically means I have loads of intrusive thoughts about harming and killing my family and friends and screaming bigoted invective of all sorts at strangers. So I’m not the happiest camper, and haven’t been for most of my adolescence. I’m also a freshman at a really cool honors college in my state, to which I got a full ride (!!!).

I’m ALSO physically disabled, which throws an extra snarl into the whole mess of living on my own at college and coping with schoolwork alongside my mental illnesses. I really love my school, Auntie, I do, but this semester has been literal hell. I’ve had like two anxiety attacks a day at minimum all semester, I was depressed and lethargic and isolated, and I was having horrible suicidal ideations. (I’m in therapy, though, so please don’t worry! I’ll hang in there.) Long story short, I flunked one class this semester, and because of the way my schedule was set up, my scholarship is now in danger (though I’m fairly sure I’ll be able to get it back). I called my parents in a teary panic about two weeks before the semester ended, apologizing profusely, and they reassured me that their finances were not endangered by the loss and it was totally normal for first-semester students to have trouble.

And then, several nights ago, after I’d gotten home for break, my parents and brother and I were all eating dinner together, and my dad started in on my brother for HIS bad grades, and then began to talk to both of us, saying we need to get our heads out of our asses and do the work, etc. I got really angry, angrier than I’ve ever dared be around my parents as a born goody-two-shoes, and started asking him what he meant. Talking specifically to me, he said that:

a) I was making up my mental health issues so I wouldn’t have to try,
b) that school was my (and my brother’s) one responsibility since our parents do everything for us,
c) that he was disappointed and frustrated,
d) that I was lazy,
e) he couldn’t believe I of all people was having trouble writing papers since I’m really good at it,
f) he doesn’t believe I’m as sick as I say I am because I can still function,
g) that I had apparently just given up (I missed a final because I was underprepared and I thought going would trigger suicidal ideations),
i) he doesn’t get why I am so anxious and distressed about school, and when I told him I didn’t know either he just scoffed and said I was lying,
k) he and my mother both accused me of lying to my psychiatrist about how school was going (I haven’t seen him since October) and said if I really wanted to get better I’d have gotten out and socialized and exercised instead of staying in my room watching Netflix all the time, and
l) my personal favorite, that if I got anxious during studying I should just throw up and go back to work and repeat as necessary until the job got done (this last was said the next day when I confronted him about it).

Variations of this conversation, which always leave me resentful and in tears and them confused and worried, have been happening since I was diagnosed, but it has never been as angry as this. I’m so upset, Auntie. I love my parents, and I want to take responsibility for my actions: I’ll admit I should have gotten out more, shouldn’t have given up so easily, should have steeled myself and tried harder, et cetera. But I also feel so guilty and awful, almost as bad as when I was at school, and I can guess from experience the closest thing I’ll get to an apology from them is an “I’m sorry you feel that way but it’s not my fault you’re fragile.”

Auntie, I am so confused. My parents have known about my mental health issues for a couple of years now, and have done the best they can to be supportive. They even pay for my therapy! (They mention that a lot.)
I guess what I’m asking boils down to three things: am I to blame for this whole episode? Is it all my fault?; is what my parents are saying reasonable constructive criticism of the way I have coped?; how do I get them to listen to me so I don’t feel like I can’t talk to them and then they get sad that I’m not talking to them?

I’m so sorry you’re going through this, Sparkler.

And your very long question has a fairly short answer, and it goes like this: The next time you go to see your psychiatrist—and you should be going to see him, ASAP—your parents should come with you. And together, under the supervision of a mental health professional, you and Mom and Dad are going to do some serious communicating.

Because clearly, you haven’t been. And unfortunately, sweetheart, that “you” does apply to you, in particular.

Which is not to say that this is your fault, and please don’t let that be the takeaway from what I’m about to tell you. Even if Auntie SparkNotes wanted to point a bunch of accusatory fingers at someone who was already in terrible distress (and I really, really do not want to do that, at all!), it would be ridiculous to blame you, personally, for a misstep that clearly arose primarily from the fact that you are unwell.

That’s the point, though: You are unwell. Your mental health issues are really crippling, to the point where you can’t study, attend class, sit for exams, or maintain the GPA required to keep your scholarship, let alone succeed at this stuff while also keeping the rest of your life together. You’re not so much hanging in there as you are dangling by a thread—which keeps snapping, at which point you plummet unstoppably toward the ground until the thread happens to snag on something else.

And yet, look at how you describe all of this in your letter. Particularly, look at the part where you’re like, “But don’t worry about me! It’s no big deal, I’m totally fine!”

Let’s just be honest, sweet pea: That’s, like, extremely not true. And if you feel compelled to put this kind of faux-sunshiney spin on your immense struggle in a letter to me, a complete stranger, then I’m gonna take a wild guess that you did at least that much with the people you’re actually close to. Waiting until two weeks before the semester’s end to tell your parents that things had gone very wrong? Not checking in with your regular psychiatrist when you were having multiple attacks per day and could barely leave the house? Those weren’t your best choices, not because you were coping badly, but because you were coping badly and not telling anyone who might have been able to help.

And as much as your dad’s behavior leaves a lot (A LOT) to be desired, it would make a certain amount of sense if you kept him in the dark about how badly off you were. You must realize: When your parents told you that it was normal for first-year students to struggle at college, they didn’t mean that it’s typical to have puking panic attacks while studying and skip your finals because you’re afraid you might hurt yourself. That’s not at all normal! It’s very, very scary! The fact that they reacted by telling you your trouble was expected and okay is a solid indicator that they had absolutely no idea, at all, what kind of trouble you were actually having.

Hence the angry, disappointed, grossly insensitive reaction when the truth came out. Because people, even parental people, tend not to be at their best when they feel like they’ve been blindsided. Your dad said he was frustrated and disappointed; one might imagine that he was also hurt, surprised, scared, and sad to realize how much you hadn’t told him.

But that’s why you’re going to get this all out there in the safety of your psychiatrist’s office, where you can trust that the conversation will be kept constructive, and your parents can get a better sense of what they can reasonably hope for and expect from you. And while the outcome of that convo will ultimately be up to you, your ‘rents, and your doctor, I want to leave you with one suggestion: Please leave the urge to downplay at the door. There’s no shame in admitting when something is more than you can handle—and if college is beyond your capabilities right now, it’s in nobody’s best interests for you to push yourself to the breaking point just to barely succeed. So be open, be realistic, and be honest.

Because when it comes to stuff like this, that’s the best way to make sure that you’re being heard, and your best hope of getting the kind of help you need to be happy. And we want you to be happy.

Got something to say? Tell us in the comments! And to get advice from Auntie, email her at advice@sparknotes.com.
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