One month before the start of my Prelims, my boyfriend and I broke up. We had been dating for a year and a half. He was a long-term friend before we both realised that we had been flirting with one another and pretty quickly we committed to a serious relationship. In our little bubble at home everything seemed great. We saw each other nearly every day as our schedules lined up well, with us both doing A-levels at the same time. The big, looming thing was university.

After our A-levels, it was confirmed. I was heading to Oxford and him to Swansea. We were both nervous about the prospect of being apart, but we decided to try and make it work. Before we knew it, we were heading off to university to start our new lives. In Michaelmas, I saw him basically every other weekend. It was a full-time commitment, but I didn’t mind. In the wild new world of balls and black tie, he reminded me of home. I loved visiting his uni house, meeting his new friends, and slotting into his new life, even if it was just for a couple of days at a time. Hilary was the same, seeing each other as much as possible and trying to treasure that time. I skipped lectures to see him when it was our anniversary, and he came up to see me even when I was up to my eyeballs in work and I would try to rejig my life around him.

Trinity was when things took a turn. I knew that the term would be hard, because revision would mean I couldn’t just leave Oxford behind to go and see him or for him to visit me. I was also starting to really solidify friendships which had been hard to maintain with my constant trips to see him. The mental toll of a long-distance relationship was taking effect—it is very hard to feel connected to someone miles away when the degree and lifestyle at Oxford requires so much commitment. I felt torn between two places. It turns out that he had been feeling the same thing. Miserable about not seeing me, but miserable when he did because he knew it would only last a couple of days at most. So, we ended things.

I fled Oxford to go home and be with my family. It helped, for a weekend, but Sunday rolled around, and I found myself travelling back to Oxford in time for my tutorial first thing on Monday. On returning to Oxford, I initially felt nothing. There is so much to do, so many essays to write, so many nights out to be had and I felt a freedom which I hadn’t had before. I felt untethered. No one knew what I was doing, I could just do things. It wasn’t that my ex was controlling—the exact opposite—but we always knew what the other one was up to. That was our way of feeling close, while over a hundred miles apart.

Then, the sadness creeps in. No one knew what I was doing because no one asked; I was free because I was alone. Suddenly the nights out turned into nights in with Taylor Swift blaring and lots of tears. Initially I felt like I couldn’t cry in front of my friends in college because they might think I was weird, and because they didn’t know my ex very well. I couldn’t have been more wrong. The people I have opened up to have been nothing but supportive. Their cups of tea, tearful screenings of La La Land, and hugs when I’m feeling down have made such a difference. With the stresses of my exams, the thoughts of loneliness are heightened. I just want someone on the other end of the phone to tell me everything is alright. I’ve taken to phoning my dad at midnight, often in a mess and we stay on the phone until I have calmed down enough to get some sleep. My friends have had to deal with several ‘crash outs’, as I have deemed them. When the breakup and the exam stress and any other minor inconvenience all pile up they sit opposite me with a kind smile as I rant, and rant, and rant.

On the one hand, the college environment might seem the worst place possible to go through a breakup. You are constantly seen. I thought to myself that no one can be bothered with the girl sobbing over her cereal at breakfast or sniffling at her desk while she works. I have been putting on a brave face to everyone but my closest friends, stomping through Uni Parks on my own when I need to clear my head, arriving for food in halls with a smile on my face. For the most part, people in college would have no idea about what I was going through unless I told them. 

On the other hand, the college environment is perfect for getting over a breakup. There is so much going on you are very rarely able to wallow in your sadness, and when that sadness does come (usually around midnight, on your own, in your room), your friends are always nearby for a chat.  

I can’t say I have managed my breakup the most gracefully. After all, it hasn’t even (at the time of writing this) been a month. I’m not completely settled, and I don’t think anyone would expect me to be. But despite this I do think I have managed fairly well so far. Here are my top tips for getting over a breakup at university:

  • The workload is so massive that if you do your entire reading list you might not have a chance to think about it at all. Maybe you will even get more productive!
  • Do some exercise, organised or not. University Parks walks make a great distraction. Put on your headphones, blast some music, and march around until you feel human again.
  • Get out. This is easier said than done if you have exams coming up like me. But in those first weeks after a breakup, meet your friends at a cafe, go for a drink in the evening—those £4 OXO cocktails are a great breakup healer—and brave Bridge. You can do whatever you want now, you are your only priority. Whatever will make you feel better; just do it.
  • TALK to your friends. Sob into your cereal and sniffle at your desk. People are generally quite nice and will want to help you.

I definitely don’t have all the answers but what I will say is be kind to yourself. Long distance, no distance, long term, short term, ending on bad terms, ending mutually, breakups are hard. You can do this!