In my second semester of my freshman year, I signed up for a counseling appointment.
It sounds so simple, so easy, when I say it like that. That sentence encompasses none of the months of internal struggle I wrestled with on my own, refusing to even consider help. It involves none of the anguish I dealt with in the moments I was signing up for the appointment, none of the shame and terror that consumed me as I sat signing the documents to say I understood the rules. In short, the sentence holds much more weight than anyone could ever see.
The problem with this is that it shouldn’t. Signing up for a counseling appointment felt like giving up to me; it felt like there was something really, truly wrong with me and I felt so, so broken. The defeat I carried weighed on bones, and I took the pre-test they required in a state of incredible apathy: if I was broken, I was going to admit I was. I told the health center about my specific mental illnesses and the manifestations of those illnesses, including those manifestations that are not talked about with any sort of compassion. An example of this would be suicidal ideation.
After I took the test, I expected to have an appointment the next week or so, as that’s what I was told. Instead, a counselor who would eventually become mine came out, expressed his worry for me, and invited me into his office to talk. It was painful and slow. Though I was there of my own violation, it wasn’t willingly, and my side of the conversation was pried out of me like teeth. I felt like I’d lost by being there and it was a hard feeling to come to terms with. Now, after almost five or so months of going to him, the conversation flows easier. I’m not hiding much anymore. I don’t know if it helps me, but it does give me a new perspective and it makes me want to be better.
The fact that going to get help for illnesses we were never equipped to deal with is a problem. We have diseases that are as serious, valid, and painful as those such as cancer or broken bones. We cannot heal those on our own, and by the same token neither can we heal ourselves of these diseases of the brain. Perhaps we cannot see them, but mental illnesses have a very real, very damaging effect on the brain, as if they were physical illnesses. Depression, for example, sets one up for confirmation bias and stagnation. It damages the hippocampus, the part of the brain that forms new neurons and connects them to create new memories, new connections, new knowledge, new habits, new emotions, new habits, new perspectives, new motivations, and new inspirations; everything new to a person.
A healthy brain will grow new neurons as a person learns more, but neural growth slows significantly when a person is depressed so that they cannot keep up with learning. Most new experiences and most new information won’t stick. Therefore, the brain can’t incorporate new experiences to adjust the old thought cycles or modify old knowledge. Experiences typically rearrange and teach your brain but that doesn’t occur often when a brain is depressed. That results in stagnations and thoughts confirm biases instead of contradicting them. The rest of the brain is also not fully accessing the emotional center, or the amygdala. Thus, the amygdala is not contributing emotions to a person’s brain or worldview like its meant to do. This is not who someone is, it is not a way of living. This is a broken brain. That seems harsh but it’s important to recognize because this damage, this illness, it’s reversible and treatable.
What’s required is getting help. If you are suffering, if you are drowning under the weight of your mental illnesses or even just overwhelmed by your problems, get help. Talk to someone. Sometimes another person has experienced what you have and they have tips on how to manage it better. If this is something interfering with your daily life, you deserve to live a happy and healthy life to the fullest extent you can, and if that means getting help, get help. There’s nothing wrong with it. Many, many people do it. It helps, it does, and that’s nothing to be ashamed of. You haven’t lost if you ask for help—you have taken a step closer to winning. Sign up for an appointment. Even if you’re not sure there’s anything wrong, sign up.
When you feel comfortable doing so, scream it from the rooftops that you’ve been to a counseling session. Even if it didn’t work, doing a small part to remove the stigma of asking for help or even having a mental illness is an important thing you can contribute to. Remember that you don’t even have to go to a counselor. You could go to a friend, a professor, a leader in the community. You could go to your RA. You could go to members of Open Minds or you could call the Emory HelpLine. There are resources for you to get better. You deserve to get better and it begins with acknowledging the problem and getting help to treat it. It’s worth it, I promise. Even if it doesn’t help in the way you expect, it’s worth it— because it helps in the most unexpected, most helpful ways.