Why is it easy to tell someone you’re going to a doctor to treat that cold you’ve been fighting but it’s difficult to say you’re going to see a therapist? We all know mental health isn’t easy to talk about. As a society, we spend a significant amount of time dancing around the problem rather than addressing it. There’s no hiding that mental health is an issue that is becoming more prevalent on our college campuses. College students are committing suicide. August 22nd, 2017, Ball State University basketball player Zach Hollywood took his own life. The last thing he tweeted was “Be careful what you say to everyone because you don’t know what kind of battles they are going through.” We need to talk more about these battles rather than waiting until it is too late.
Five months ago, my life was a nightmare. My grandfather passed from heart complications and my family being a small and intimate one made this incredibly hard to deal with. I had never lost someone so close to me. In my past experience, death was a distant thing that I was able to deal with but I quickly learned that the weight of grief is heavy.  Getting out of bed most days was grueling  and I spent much of my time fighting back tears.
The battle I was fighting was a silent one. I started to lose interest in the things I loved the most. Running started to feel like a chore I was forced to do. I either underate or overate at meals. I was drinking heavily as an attempt to fill the void. Being around my friends felt exhausting and I just wanted to spend my time alone. I didn’t know what to do about it. While the people around me knew what I was going through, I didn’t know how to ask for help. I didn’t understand my own feelings so I didn’t think another person would be able to. I remember crying my eyes out to my roommates the day after my grandfather died. I didn’t know how to cope with my feelings or express them. I was so lost and hopeless.  My mental health wasn’t where it once was. The simplest of tasks took a significant amount of energy out of me. I was fighting a war in my mind trying to tell myself to keep going despite the voice in my head telling me to give up.
I bounced back and forth with the idea of therapy for a while. I wasn’t sure of the reaction I’d get from those close to me and I swore I could fight this battle on my own.  I first asked my father about it back in April. I worked up a lot of courage to do this and I recall how disappointed I felt after he replied to my text. He expressed support but I was shocked at him asking why. I thought he would understand, I lost a grandfather and he lost a father. I seemed to have forgotten people cope in different ways.  I remember he asked me why I wanted to see a therapist. I couldn’t give him a concrete answer. I knew what I felt but I was unable to it into words. I was overwhelmed. I didn’t know where to go or what to do. I couldn’t escape these feelings and getting help was proving to be more strenuous than I anticipated.
This made me think that maybe I didn’t need to see a therapist. That what I was feeling would just go away. mean, I had everything a person could need to be “happy,” why was I feeling so unhappy?
I finally made an appointment with a therapist in August. I realized enough was enough and I had to do this for the better of myself. I felt too many low moments where I was unable of how to move forward. I needed help. These feelings weren’t normal.  I was terrified and I thought about backing out at the last minute but  I couldn’t let myself do that. Those five minutes I spent in the waiting room were nerve-wracking. . The therapist asked me a number a questions about myself and what brought me to therapy. She asked me about my low moments: how frequent they were, what they felt like, how long they lasted.  Finding the words to explain a feeling I’ve known so well for the past few months turned out to be quite hard.  I had to face a lot of things about myself and my current state that I had been avoiding for months now. For the first time in a while, I had to be honest with myself. I could no longer avoid the feelings I had been putting on the back burner. I’m glad I did it. Making the appointment took a lot out of me and afterwards and I felt exhausted.
But I’m glad I did it.
You don’t realize how hard it is to put your own thoughts and feelings into words until someone is prompting multiple questions at you, one after another. The act of talking about things you’ve never spoken about before is a difficult task but a therapist has their way of reassuring you that your feelings are valid and you are not crazy for feeling the things you do.
My experience opened up my eyes to the issues surrounding mental health, especially for college students like myself. . There are so many changes we go through that can affect our mental health   in these four years at our respective colleges and universities. Two-thirds of students struggling with mental health issues  do not seek treatment, according to the American College Health Association Spring 2015 assessment. And some of the reasons are thus: they are afraid to seek out help, lack the knowledge of how to do so, or worry that if they go to seek help, that they are admitting to having a mental health issue. . Â
It’s time for us to acknowledge our weaknesses and to seek help for our mental health. It’s time to stop belittling those that struggle with depression or anxiety as people who are weak.
It’s time to stop letting people die to an issue that we can fix.
I write of my own experience hoping that it’ll pave the way for others and show that it is okay to seek out professional help when you need it. Therapy isn’t for everyone but it doesn’t hurt to give it a try to see if it could help you.  Your head may be telling you that your problems are insignificant but I’m here to tell you that  putting you and your mental health first can save your life.
You can do this. I promise.