In an episode of the television show “Gilmore Girls,” Rory explains to her mother Lorelai the first pancake phenomenon: you always throw out the first pancake because the griddle is too hot, and the pancake inevitably gets burned. When I returned home for winter break after my first semester, I was bombarded by questions about how I was enjoying college. If I wanted to be polite, I would answer with anecdotes about my new friends and my academic achievements. If I wanted to be honest, I would compare my first semester to the glitchy first pancake.
When I arrived on campus all the way back in August, I was a pool of mixed emotions. Like every other first-year, I was super excited about coming to a new place, making new friends, and having my first chance of being a real adult. At the same time, I was absolutely terrified about leaving home—my family, my friends, my cats, and everything I was familiar with that made me feel comfortable. Move-in day was filled with anxiety and tearfulness as I said goodbye to my mother and started my new life as a college student. I was assured several times throughout orientation that I was not alone in my discomfort, and that it would ease once classes began and I adjusted to my new environment. But days turned into weeks, and my overwhelming sadness was not disappearing.
Trying to pretend like everything was fine when I felt like my entire life was falling apart was the hardest task I have ever conquered. But I did it—for the most part. I attended my classes, completed all of my homework assignments, and aced my exams. On the surface, I was just another first-year college student who was a little homesick. I managed to hold myself together just enough to make it through the semester. But what very few people were aware of was that my mental health was declining, despite every effort I made in attempt to feel okay again. I started attending counseling sessions, I was prescribed medication to treat anxiety and depression, and I regularly engaged in physical activity. But nothing seemed to help, and I began to lose hope.
By the end of the semester, the only place on campus where I felt comfortable was in my bed, under the covers, blasting sad music through my headphones to drown out my own thoughts. Only a handful of people knew what was going on, and they were all concerned for me. I was concerned for me. And I felt like a burden to everyone who cared about me. I started skipping my classes so I could hide in my room for a little bit longer. Shortly before finals, I reached an incredibly dark place. I ended up leaving campus on medical leave and taking incompletes in all of my classes. It was not by any means the way I expected how my first semester of college would end.
During winter break, I faced an immense decision—whether I would return to Conn for the spring semester or extend my medical leave. I was feeling so much better than I had during the fall semester, and I finally began to develop a sense of hope. For the first time in what seemed like a lifetime, I believed that there would be a time when I would honestly be able to say that I was okay. Despite this progress, I was petrified that once I returned to campus, my health would begin to decline again. Ultimately, I decided that I would come back to Conn. I have an amazing support system here, and I am now taking everything one day at a time. I am much too stubborn of a person to give up on something so quickly, and I knew I had to give Conn another shot. After all, no one gives up on making pancakes just because they had to throw the first one away.
Mental health is unfortunately an incredibly uncomfortable topic to discuss in our society. My aspiration for sharing my story is that it will help open up the conversation about mental health on Conn’s campus and possibly provide a spark of hope to anyone who is in a similar situation. It is okay not to be okay. As long as you reach out for the support you need, there will be a time when you will be able to say that you are okay and actually mean it. You are never alone, even if you feel like you are. It may seem like everyone around you has their lives together, but everyone is fighting their own battle. There will always be kind people around to support you. What is most important is that you take care of yourself. You have so much strength within you—if you didn’t, you wouldn’t have made it this far. I know the last few sentences are total clichés, but they really are true. To conclude, I want to share a quote that has helped me make it through the past few months in the hope that it may help someone else: “What lies behind us and what lies before us are but tiny matters compared to what lies within us.” –Ralph Waldo Emerson