Space Unfilled

The ANU itself has clearly downplayed expectations of student expenditure. They estimate that the average student needs $25,446 a year to live on campus, afford food and organise their own travel. Based on this figure, it’s assumed that an individual must earn $471 a week to support themselves as they study. Pushing independent students to work 22 hours a week - at minimum wage - just to break even. To meet my own needs, I’ve had to juggle three jobs, while managing a full-time study load, which certainly hasn’t helped with my burnout.

With these increasing pressures, it’s no wonder that so many commentators have sounded the alarm of a significant student mental health crisis. The National Union of Students’ annual survey found that 35 percent of Australian students had experienced thoughts of self-harm or suicidal ideation within the past 12 months. While this issue is exacerbated by a range of factors, financial and academic burdens faced by students are a blindingly obvious cause of the state of our academic experience.

Drafting this piece, I wanted to reach a strong and direct call to action, but frankly, the situation feels a little hopeless. That’s not to discount the benefits of things like lowering Centrelink’s age of independence, or making extensions and academic support more accessible. But it feels resoundingly unfair, while being constantly burned out by these pressures, when I also have to participate in the fight against them.

Activism, while massively important, requires a significant time commitment and an emotional toll on those involved. I’m often left to question if it’s actually realistic to expect that students continually put their own well-being on the line. Having to fight for our own basic level of support is a maddening task that often feels like pushing an unrelenting boulder. But frankly, if we don’t take this fight up now, no one else will. Historically, the rights of students have only been won through activism, lobbying, and the hard work of students and our representative bodies.

It seems absurd that to fight our own burnout, we as students will need to dive even deeper into an all-consuming riptide. However, giving up isn’t an option. Taking a step back and getting the rest I needed has been invaluable in getting myself ready to keep pushing forward. To avoid what might have otherwise led to complete self-destruction.

This fight requires our constant attention because our systems are failing us, and students are struggling. But each of us needs to take stock of the mental energy we dedicate to responsibly participating in activism. Only in this, can we sustain the necessary fight for our student experience while maintaining our personal well-being.

This ocean can seem impossibly deep. Through self-care, solidarity, and self-preservation, we may very well reach the surface and get our education in a way that doesn’t pull us under.

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“I drew this of my fantastic friend Jess because I think they are a rad, good-looking human. I didn’t expect how lively it ended up being, the sudden surge of water simultaneously shocking and invigorating. It reminds me of when I was a kid playing that game at the beach with friends, the one where you stand with your back to the waves and let it crash on your back. I can feel the anticipation and excited fear, then the satisfying impact of the water all around.”

Georgia is an engineering student who loves art and should really find time to do more of it. You can find her on Instagram at @gconechadoart