When stress becomes the background noise of university life

University is often described as a time of growth, but it can also be a time when stress quietly becomes “normal.” Deadlines stack up, money worries sit in the back of the mind, and social pressure can make everyday life feel like a performance. Staff are not immune either: heavy workloads, emotional labour (supporting students in distress), and constant change can drain resilience over time. In that context, “mental health support” is too often reduced to crisis services—what to do when things have already fallen apart—rather than building everyday skills that help people stay well.

This is why the Can creative activities and mind-body practices help enhance well-being and mental health awareness? An exploratory qualitative study in UK higher education research paper matters. Instead of asking only whether interventions reduce symptoms, it looks at something more subtle and arguably more powerful: how extra-curricular creative activities (like art-based sessions) and mind-body practices (such as yoga) may shape people’s awareness and understanding of mental health and well-being. It also examines what gets in the way—because even the best support fails if people cannot (or do not want to) access it.

Using questionnaire responses from 25 students and 20 staff at one UK university, the study offers a grounded view of how these activities feel from the inside: what people notice, how it changes their self-care, and why “joining in” can be harder than it looks on a busy campus.

What participants said changed after picking up a brush or rolling out a mat

The study found that both creative sessions and mind-body practices were commonly experienced as more than “nice extras.” Participants described them as tools for building mental health awareness—not only recognising distress earlier, but also understanding what helps them stay steady. In plain terms, people felt they gained a clearer read on their own warning signs (like tension, irritability, or spiralling thoughts) and a stronger sense of what calms or restores them.

Many responses pointed to the immediate emotional effects: feeling calmer, more grounded, or mentally “reset.” A yoga session, for example, was not just exercise; it was a structured pause where breathing and body attention helped people notice stress in real time. Creative activities offered a different route: they provided a way to express feelings without having to explain them perfectly. That matters on days when talking feels like work.

Participants also linked these sessions with community-building. In post-Covid campus life, this was especially important: people valued activities that brought them into the same room with others for something that wasn’t assessed, monitored, or competitive. A staff member who spends all day solving problems may experience a creative session as rare permission to be a person rather than a role. A student who feels isolated might find it easier to connect side-by-side in an activity than face-to-face in a conversation.

Barriers were practical and personal: lack of time, scheduling clashes, and simple preference (“it’s not for me”). These limits mattered because they shaped who benefited—and who stayed on the outside.

Why these activities can shift well-being in ways talk alone sometimes can’t

Psychologically, the findings fit with what many therapists and researchers already suspect: well-being often improves when people have reliable ways to regulate emotion, not just insight into what they “should” do. Mind-body practices support self-regulation by working through the body. When stress rises, the nervous system tends to shift into fight-or-flight: faster heart rate, shallow breathing, tense muscles, racing thoughts. Practices like yoga or mindful movement invite the opposite shift—slower breathing, softer attention, a sense of internal safety. This can make it easier to respond thoughtfully rather than react automatically.

Creative activities may help through a different mechanism: meaning-making. When someone paints, writes, or makes something, they are often organising experience—turning vague emotion into a shape, colour, or story. That process can reduce overwhelm. It also resembles what psychology calls “externalisation”: putting feelings outside the self so they can be observed rather than swallowed whole. For a student who cannot articulate why they feel low, making something can be a first step toward recognising patterns (“I always feel like this near deadlines,” or “I’m harsher on myself than I realised”).

The study’s emphasis on awareness also connects to ideas from mental health literacy research: people are more likely to seek help when they can identify what they are experiencing and believe support will be useful. Importantly, these activities can act as a “soft entry point” for people who do not want formal counselling or feel worried about stigma. Attending a yoga class or an art session may feel socially safer than booking a mental health appointment, while still building the skills that protect mental health.

Yet the barriers reported in the research paper also echo a well-known challenge in behaviour change: the people who most need support often have the least spare time, energy, or confidence to access it. A student juggling shifts at work may miss the session that would help them most. A staff member already depleted may not have the bandwidth to try something new. The implication is clear: designing these programmes is not only about offering them—it is about making them genuinely reachable.

Turning a “well-being programme” into something people actually use

The findings from Can creative activities and mind-body practices help enhance well-being and mental health awareness? An exploratory qualitative study in UK higher education can guide practical decisions in universities, workplaces, and community settings.

First, make access easy. If time is a barrier, offer short formats alongside longer ones: a 30-minute lunchtime creative drop-in, a 20-minute guided stretch session after lectures, or brief “reset rooms” during peak assessment periods. A busy administrator is more likely to attend something that fits into the day than something that requires a full evening commitment.

Second, treat these activities as part of culture, not a side project. In business settings, that might look like team leaders modelling participation—joining a short weekly mind-body practice before high-pressure meetings, or running optional creative breaks during long workshops. In higher education, it could mean embedding sessions into student welcome weeks and staff development days so they feel normal, not niche.

Third, widen the invitation. Because personal interest shapes engagement, programmes can offer variety without losing coherence: collage and journaling for people who dislike drawing; gentle yoga and breathwork for those who find vigorous exercise intimidating. The aim is not to turn everyone into an artist or yogi, but to provide multiple routes to stress relief and self-awareness.

Finally, connect activities to help-seeking pathways. A creative session can include a simple, non-intrusive signpost: “If this brings things up, here’s where support is available.” That small bridge can convert increased awareness into timely support—before distress becomes crisis.

A simple question with a serious implication for campus well-being

This research paper suggests that creative activities and mind-body practices can do something quietly powerful in UK higher education: they can strengthen well-being while also improving mental health awareness. Participants did not only report feeling better in the moment; they also described learning more about themselves, feeling more connected to others, and gaining everyday tools for coping.

The bigger message is not that universities should replace counselling with yoga or art. It is that prevention and community matter, and that skill-building can happen in ways that feel human, social, and achievable. If a campus offered every student and staff member one reliable weekly space to breathe, create, and reconnect—would fewer people reach breaking point before they asked for help?

Data in this article is provided by PLOS.

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