Isabel Williams explores the complicated emotions that many students face once the exam season concludes, discussing the science behind these feelings and what we can do to combat them.

As university students, the schedule of our day to day routine is often dictated by our studies: our hobbies, social lives, sleep schedules and meals get placed on the backburner in favour of academic priorities. When exam season finally hits, the hum of stress that has started to permeate the air takes on a palpable form: libraries squashed full of people avidly typing; creased foreheads and darkened under-eyes; conversations that solely attempt to ex-communicate the feelings of anxiety and general discomfort we are all harbouring. So when the last few assessments are handed in, the initial reaction is understandably one of joyful relief. But as this jubilation fades and our friends begin to leak slowly off campus and away to other places, many of us may find ourselves feeling suddenly lacklustre, doom-scrolling for hours on social media or lying awake in bed, the suspicion suddenly large in our minds and heavy in our bodies that something about us is growing stagnant.

It should come as no surprise that the aftermath of exam season is often a mass of disorientation and sour spirits. The anxiety triggered within our bodies during this period results in an increased production of the stress hormone cortisol. Part of cortisol’s effect on the body is that it boosts your energy and temporarily strengthens the immune system against illness. That being said, chronic stress over a prolonged time can lead to a suppressive response from the immune system, which after the exam period (or even during) can make us more susceptible to illness. Combined with our lost hours of sleep, the sudden drop in cortisol levels after exams can leave us feeling tired, confused, or emotionally volatile. Meanwhile, students may also feel that the boundless energy they once poured into mental activity is now left with no outlet. The schedule we used to structure our daily activities no longer exists, and with all this free time there may be a renewed pressure to find work in order to pay the bills or further our careers.

Western culture presents an understanding of productivity that is almost entirely centred on constantly aiming to produce capital, and asserts this as the only viable lifestyle choice. It’s a sentiment that is frequently pushed by self-proclaimed “alpha male” entrepreneurs and podcasters: if you’re not spending all of your time working towards making money, you’re wasting it. Many of my friends and fellow undergrads have expressed feelings of guilt or nervousness that wash over them when they are not studying or working, as if by taking time out to “do nothing” they are in fact doing something implicitly wrong. Even my most workaholic friends are haunted by the notion that however much they succeed, however many tasks they complete, they are simply not doing enough. 

This approach to productivity seems to ignore that the brain, as an organ, needs to rest in order for it to function at optimal levels. In fact, a study published in 2019 by the Department of Psychology at the University of Hertfordshire found that time spent away from work can actually improve productivity. The study asserts that an “incubation period” of even a few minutes, where one takes a moment to rest and distract their mind from working, is conducive to improved creative problem solving. Allowing the mind time to idle can lead our subconscious to develop in ways it may not have done if it were consistently focused upon a task. Whilst this may be beneficial regarding the development of our studies, it’s important to recognise the impact this can have on our personal self-development too. 

Part of the effect of the exam period coming to an end is that without academic goals, many students lose a sense of purpose. The natural solution to this is to find purpose that exists outside of work, so we’re not stuck with that nameless dread and feeling of inadequacy once the academic deadlines dry up. Taking this time to reflect on and indulge in the aspects of our lives that often get neglected reminds us of what we have to offer outside of academia. Personally, I have found that setting myself small goals for my activities (e.g. reach this level on Duolingo, read this many pages of  a book by Friday) gives me both a sense of intention during the holiday period, and a sense of satisfaction when my goals are reached. I use them to structure my time: Wednesday morning is for jogging; Friday night is movie night; Saturday is for seeing friends. Rather than having to wake up to a long aimless day with nothing to show at the end of it, a small but dependable routine like this gives me something to prepare for and allows me to shape my days accordingly. 

Satisfaction can come from anywhere if we allow ourselves to take pride in the things we enjoy doing and acknowledge our successes; even when it’s something as mundane as making a delicious meal. Even if we never reach the goals we set for our personal interests, it feels good to have something to work towards, and the sheer act of doing something we enjoy is inherently meaningful if we allow it to be. At the risk of sounding cheesy, every individual moment we have is a one-off experience; far from being meaningless, they are a part of the long-haul process of developing a sense of self. If that’s not worth our time, I don’t know what is.