I’m a philosophy student – I spend hours each day contemplating fundamental questions and the answers men with beards have given them.

“Do humans have free will?” “Does God exist?” And even: “Do I?”

When I started university, we were thrown straight into weird philosophical territory. I’d expected my work to challenge me – but I was surprised when I began to feel unhappy.

The spirit of questioning scepticism in my lecture halls had spilled into my personal life, and I became pessimistic. My problem was bigger than individual beliefs – it was an overwhelming attitudinal change.

A few weeks passed and I started to feel numb and emotionless. I couldn’t handle an existential crisis on top of the social anxieties that come with starting university.

My shyness worsened when people asked, “why are you being so quiet?” Or worse, “why are you being so boring?”

My most basic world views had been thrown into question and I felt vulnerable, so I closed myself off from the world.

A term passed and I knew I had to do something – I didn’t want to waste my university experience being miserable. I saw a councillor over Christmas. While I found no easy answers, I benefited from discussing my problems with someone sympathetic.

A few sessions in, my anxiety began to settle down and I slowly adapted to this new, more sceptical way of thinking. I was ready to head back to university – a different, but stronger person.

I’m now fully recovered – I can entertain weird theories and even allow some to change my life. But I’m comforted by the knowledge that help is available should I need it.

Why do we never mention this mental health trigger?

We discuss factors such as loneliness and homesickness, and the mental health charity Mind has a page on exam pressure, so why don’t we ever mention this? When I remember how suddenly my world views were shattered, I’m shocked that we don’t expect more students to get anxious and depressed as I did.

Whenever a course pushes students into uncomfortable conceptual territory, they’re vulnerable. Rebecca Walters, a third-year psychology student at the University of Leeds, says: “When I started learning about neuroscience, I couldn’t believe people were so reducible to their brain chemistries. It terrified me at first.”

Toby Evans-Jesra, a second-year English student at the University of Brighton, says: “I spent time studying nihilism, which made me feel really unnerved in my everyday life.”

Helen Connolly, a third-year sociology student also at Leeds, says: “I learned that so many aspects of our lives can be seen as ways of exploiting marginalised groups. It’s depressing to learn that anything – from the language we use to the way we raise our children – can be seen as manipulative.”

If you’re troubled by ideas you encounter in your studies, I urge you to get in touch with your university’s mental health services – they exist for this very reason. Find their details online and call to book a session. You can also call nightline – a service run by student volunteers.

I confided in my family too – it helped having my loved ones as support.

University is designed to shake up our beliefs, which is brilliant. We shouldn’t sanitise our curriculum. But students must be supported and told where to find help if they’re suffering. Your time studying will probably be brilliant, but if it gets too much, remember you’re not alone and seek help.

I did, and now not only can I handle my philosophy – I’ve got a beard coming on.