The realization that everyone is figuring it out, too.

When I first moved into residence, I thought I had a pretty solid understanding of what “normal” looked like. You eat three meals a day, you stay on top of your work, you drink water like a responsible adult and you definitely don’t let dishes pile up in your room. 

It took about two weeks for that version of normal to completely fall apart. 

What I didn’t expect was how quickly university would introduce me to a whole new set of shared habits, things that feel chaotic at first but slowly become oddly comforting once you realize everyone else is doing them too. 

There is a myth of eating three meals a day. Back home, eating was structured. Breakfast, lunch, dinner and maybe a snack if you were lucky. At university, eating becomes negotiable. 

There are days when breakfast is just coffee. Lunch might be something you grabbed between classes, eaten while walking across campus or sitting on the floor outside a lecture hall. Dinner? Sometimes, it’s a proper meal. Sometimes it’s cereal at 10 p.m. because that’s when you finally realized you were hungry. 

Somehow, everyone you talk to is on the same page most of the time. 

You’ll mention you forgot to eat all day, expecting concern, and instead someone responds with, “Yeah, I had a granola bar at 3 p.m. and called it dinner.”

It’s not that people don’t care about eating, it’s just that schedules, deadlines and energy levels constantly shift. Meals become less about routine and more about survival. There’s something weirdly unifying about it, too. Sitting with friends at midnight, all eating completely random combinations of food, feels like its own kind of normal. 

Academic burnout has seasons, too, from my experience. 

Before university, I thought burnout was something that happened when you pushed yourself too hard for too long. While that’s still true, what surprised me is how predictable it can feel here.

There are waves. 

The start of the semester is almost optimistic. New notebooks, fresh motivation, the feeling that maybe this time you’ll stay ahead of everything. Then midterms hit, and suddenly everything compresses into a few overwhelming weeks. Sleep schedules fall apart, stress levels spike and motivation becomes harder to hold onto. 

Then, weirdly, things level out again. Not because the work disappears, but because you adapt. 

Next finals come, and the cycle repeats. 

What surprised me most is how universal this feels. You can walk into the library during certain weeks and just feel it. Everyone is tired, everyone is pushing through and everyone is quietly counting down the days. 

It’s not a personal failure. It’s a pattern. 

Once you recognize it, it becomes a little easier to handle. You start planning around it, being kinder to yourself during those heavier weeks, knowing that the feeling will pass. 

Another thing that hit me was the water bottle paradox. 

If you walked into any dorm room, you’d probably find at least three water bottles or reusable mugs. Sometimes more. Yet, somehow, no one ever has one when they actually need it. 

I used to think this was just me, buying a reusable bottle with the intention of becoming the kind of person who always stayed hydrated, only to leave it behind in my room every single day. 

Then I started noticing it everywhere. 

Friends borrow cups because they forgot theirs. Someone showed up to class saying, “I swear I have like five water bottles, I just never bring them.” A growing collection of mugs sitting unused on desks, each one purchased with the best intentions. 

It’s almost funny how universal it is. We all want to have our lives together in small, manageable ways, like drinking enough water, but somehow even that becomes part of the chaos. 

There’s a moment in university where you realize that the people who seem the most put together are often just better at hiding the same struggles. Everyone forgets things. Everyone misses reading. Everyone has that one assignment they leave a little too late. 

At first, it’s easy to feel like you’re the only one falling behind. However,  then conversations start happening like casual admissions of “I didn’t start that yet either” or “I completely forgot about that deadline.”

Suddenly, the pressure hits. 

It doesn’t mean slacking off is okay, but it does mean that perfection isn’t the baseline. The baseline is effort, adjustment and figuring things out as you go. 

One of the funniest shifts I’ve noticed is how studying isn’t always … studying. 

You go to the library with full intentions of being productive, and sometimes, you are, but other times, you end up chatting with friends or on your phone. 

There’s something comforting about it, even when you’re not being 100 per cent productive, being around other people who are also in the same mindset creates this shared energy. It makes the long nights feel less isolating. 

Sometimes, the best part isn’t even the work you get done. It’s the conversations you have in between. 

I also used to think staying up late was something you did occasionally, like before a big test or to finish an assignment. 

At university, it becomes part of your routine. 

Not always by choice, either. Sometimes it’s because that’s the only time things feel quiet enough to focus. Other times, it’s because your entire day is filled with classes, responsibilities and distractions. 

There’s also something strangely peaceful about campus late at night. The quiet halls, the dim lighting, the feeling that you’re part of a small group of people still awake, still working. 

It’s exhausting, yes, but also, in a weird way, it’s memorable. 

Maybe the biggest thing I didn’t realize before coming to university is how much of this experience is shared uncertainty. 

It’s easy to assume that everyone else knows exactly what they’re doing and that they have their routines, their goals, their futures all mapped out. 

However,  the more people you talk to, the more you realize that’s not really true. 

Everyone is adjusting. Everyone is learning how to manage their time, energy and their expectations. Everyone is dealing with their own version of stress, confusion or self-doubt. 

At the same time, everyone is finding small ways to make it work. 

What I’ve come to understand is that “normal” at university isn’t about having everything together. It’s about finding balance within the chaos. 

It’s eating when you can, not perfectly. It’s recognizing burnout without letting it define you.  It’s owning five water bottles and still forgetting them. It’s studying, but also talking, laughing and taking breaks. 

It’s realizing that the things you thought were just your own struggles are actually shared experiences. 

Maybe that’s the most comforting part of it all. Because once you see it, you stop feeling like you’re falling behind and start realizing that you’re right where you’re supposed to be.