The opinions expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not reflect the views of Her Campus.
Mental health issues seem to climax in college, yet this is arguably one of the absolute worst times to deal with them. As if students don’t face enough between schoolwork, jobs, extracurricular activities, planning some sort of future, moving to a new place, having some semblance of a social life, living alone for what is often the first time, and a whole lot of raging hormones, issues like PTSD and schizophrenia sneak their way in to complicate things.
I’m one of the many students affected by mental health issues while in college. Though they’ve plagued me for years, I was only recently formally diagnosed with anxiety and depression. It’s been an exhausting journey, and it’s one that I continue each and every day.
I should preface my take by telling you that I’ve also had a host of physical ailments—joint problems, migraines, heart issues, you name it. Quite frankly, I still don’t tell many people what I’m going through because of them; if they haven’t tired of listening to me complain of knee pain and syncope already, surely these equally invisible “lesser” issues (as society somehow sees mental matters) stand no chance. Is this me being paranoid, my anxiety showing, or is it a result of the world’s response, a lack of empathy?
While my physical problems can literally be crippling, these mental ones manifest in equally horrific ways. As I panic over making a phone call or my need to make a detailed itinerary for a trip, I’m well aware that many of my fears are irrational. When I’m lying in bed, void of motivation, and start crying, saddened by nothing, I know I have countless reasons to be happy. Contrary to the concept of it being “all in my head,” I have no control—I really can’t help it.
One of the most difficult steps I’ve taken, lugging my suitcase of disorders behind me, was getting help. My school offers free (well, included in tuition) counseling services, but I’d only heard horror stories about them. Instead, I went to a regular family doctor—my first grown-up appointment in a new place and the result of many a panic attack as I dialed the number. My doctor’s been wonderful—From the moment I handed her a color-coded chart of ailments on my first visit, she’s never once accused me of hypochondria or overanalyzing my symptoms.
I’ve since gotten involved with my campus’ chapter of Active Minds, and met with others who know my pain, who believe that I am far from crazy. From them, I learned just how dire the on-campus mental health situation has truly become.
Students tease that they’d rather kill themselves than write a paper. Others joke that the “skinny friend” should eat a burger. Had they confronted suicide or eating disorders firsthand, they’d likely think before speaking.
Services themselves are inadequate. For all we know, our food service and facilities employees are trained to handle mental illness, but no one would know to turn to them. It’s important nevertheless to have professionals on hand to deal with these sorts of things, particularly in a place like college, where they run rampant. A Counseling Center or the equivalent can be a safe haven.
No matter what, it’s hard to utilize services of which you aren’t aware. At my school, first year students learn repeatedly during orientation how to recognize consent and how to help a friend who’s blacked out, but not often how to help themselves when they’re anxious about nothing, or depressed beyond what chocolate can help. If these services do in fact exist, they need to be publicized more. I’m only just delving into these offerings myself, nearly halfway through my second year, because I knew only what I heard from my peers.
A stigma unquestionably exists about getting help, even under assurances of confidentiality. If someone’s anxious and afraid of what others may think, no “guarantee” will easily convince them that word won’t get out, especially on a small campus. No one wants to be known as the girl who tried to kill herself. By not having proper services for dealing with these issues, or not promoting them in order for their purpose to be realized, schools are inadvertently perpetuating this stigma that mental illnesses aren’t worthy of help.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned on my journey so far, it’s that there is hope and there is help, even if it seems impossible. Research, find out what your school has to offer. Many offer professional counseling or therapy of which you may not even be aware. If these options don’t suit you, talk to someone. Email me here on Her Campus, I’m a pretty good listener. Find a doctor. Even confessions on Whisper or YikYak can alleviate some pain; I’ve seen countless anonymous friendships form over a desperate post. No matter what, hang in there. Sometimes—and as I continue on this journey, it occasionally seems like most times—hanging in there is all you can do.
photo credit: Kailey Rae via photopin (license)