Senior member of RCS staff

What did it mean for you to be estranged and studying at university?

I went to university – I was the first person in my family to do so but was estranged from one of my parents in the year before I started. I grew up very quickly – it was quite hard watching others in my year go home at weekends or for Christmas; or see their families come to concerts and send them ‘care packages’ to halls.

For a while I was sending money back home to try to support my mother and brother, but I couldn’t sustain that and became estranged from all my family quite quickly. It wasn’t something that was really talked about then or understood – I just got on with it. It was always awkward when people asked what my parents did, or what I was doing in the holidays.

I had part-time jobs to try and support myself, but it was always a challenge to secure accommodation in the breaks. I did sofa surf a lot and lean on friends – I was lucky that I had some good friends – but I definitely felt ashamed. I was at a university where there were people with a lot of money and privilege, and I remember just feeling inadequate all the time. My learning suffered because as a musician, I just didn’t have the resources to get the 1:1 tuition I really needed, or a place suitable to practice.

Living in halls, then, there wasn’t a kitchen and in the holidays the dining rooms shut, and I ate cheap, unhealthy food so I was ill a lot. I developed an eating disorder because I needed to feel in control of something. I remember being really ill during finals and ending up in hospital, and it was lecturers that came to visit me. That was my lowest point.

What do you feel people should know about estranged students – what are the challenges?

The challenges are often hidden, and reasons for estrangement are complex and often come from trauma in the past, which you’re still trying to process while dealing with the practical challenges of day-to-day life.

There’s a stigma, because people would say to me ‘oh they’re still your parents’, and I’d feel guilty like I actually had some agency in the situation I was in. I still feel that even today – like what was so wrong with me that that was the situation that resulted? The self-doubt and impostor syndrome are the worst.

Financially, I think it’s so much worse for estranged students today – the cost of living is so high, and the availability of funds is so challenging that I don’t think I could’ve done what I did 30 years ago, today.

In short, you feel that there must be a problem with you – it’s really hard to value yourself and not feel that it should be different. It’s hard not to be a bit angry about that sometimes, or maybe resentful. At the same time, you’re trying to style it out and do well in your course, because of what it took to get you there, and to prove you can do it.

I’ve put that pressure on myself all my life – and I never measure up to what I think I should be. Only as I’ve got older do I understand that everyone has their version of that, and that being estranged and having to be resilient has probably helped me achieve more and given me the drive I have today.

I think people should know that being estranged doesn’t define you – but it does put barriers in the way and dealing with those practically, without having to justify why you need the help by explaining painful situations, is always welcome. Practical solutions about where I can live, eat, work safely and who I can call in an emergency – all of that made me feel that it was do-able.

What support did you receive and how did it impact you personally and in your studies?

I was so lucky. Local authority financial support meant that most of my costs were paid for, and we didn’t pay fees in those days. I left university with minimal debt apart from the student loan, and I’ll be forever grateful for that, because now I don’t think the same is true, so I feel incredibly fortunate and a bit guilty that someone in my situation today wouldn’t probably have the same state resources to call on.

My school, the local authority, and my university all ensured in the end that I could stay in the education system and do my best. My university ended up employing me after I graduated and set me on my path to RCS ultimately. There were one or two staff in the department, and in the University that looked out for me – just knowing that they saw me and made sure I was OK, and made sure I got medical help and so on made a massive difference.

Your advice to others who are in similar situations?

Don’t let shame or guilt hold you back from asking for help. People understand better today what estrangement means, and the impact it has. Also don’t feel you have to share loads of really painful details to justify your situation – people said things to me like ‘no one died’ as though I was making a fuss and I could fix things if I wanted to.

Find someone you trust to talk to about getting the help you need and remember you’ve as much right as anyone else to ask for it. I promise that there’s a point where you do go from feeling like an imposition, to realising that you’re a pretty good advocate for yourself and being proud of that.

There’s a small, but tight community of estranged people at RCS, and the Fair Access team makes space to bring them together and give you a voice. There’s no pressure to share but just knowing you’re in a space where people get it – it can really help to recharge you.