Me. I went to uni about the same time as you, OP.
I was in halls in a wing with a bunch of 'laddy' lads who drank excessively, were loud and obnoxious, tried all the bedrooms doors at 2am and then kicked and banged on them when they were locked. Yelled awful things. There was just one woman in charge of the whole building and when I tried to tell her what was happening and ask to be moved she told me there was no other space so I'd have to learn to ignore it. That growing up was about developing a thick skin.
They were nothing short of bullies who'd realise there would be zero consequences to their actions. It did not surprise me, years later, to read this uni had one of the worst records for sexual assult.
There was zero support to help you settle in and understand uni life - even things like timetables were more like rumours. No one to turn to with concerns or worries. No one who gave a damn, tbh.
I was the first from my family to go to uni so no one there could really help me, as they didn't know anything about it.
I went from someone who, during A Levels, was highly sociable and often out with friends, to someone who NEVER went out and only ate cold food or take away, because to cook anything required going into the shared kitchen where these boys drank and shouted and played "hilarious" pranks like pissing in the milk or swapping sugar for salt.
I remember several occasions where I woke up in the morning and was disappointed that I had - that I had to wake up and get up and live. I started to resent my family for being the reason I would not act on those thoughts - out of guilt of what it would do to them.
I moved into a house with 2 friends in my second year but, by then, the damage had been done. I dropped out not long into my 2nd year - and thus ended my career in law.
I did OK after that and have gone on to have a pretty good and enjoyable career in IT. I recently did a part-time distant degree in a subject I love, just for the satisfaction of finally getting one. But I hate that my uni experience was so blighted and have been deeply ashamed of it. My family don't know how bad it got, to this day, and I don't intend to tell them.
The one glimmer of light in it all was that I met my very best friend. Someone who I KNOW would help me bury a body
. Someone who, 20+ years later is still a great friend (and who also had a shit time at the same uni). So, there's that.
I suspect there are more of us "uni survivors" than we realise...