The Other Epidemic: Mental Health in Higher Education
By Sophie Huang
Trigger warning: depression, suicide
In March 2020, I was looking forward to all the high school milestones promised for the end of my senior year: picking out a dress for prom, taking pictures with my friends at graduation, and starting college at my dream school in the fall.
Like many high school students, I knew that transitioning from high school to college would have its own unique challenges. But nobody could have prepared us for COVID. Today, as we find ourselves facing wave after wave of COVID variants, students in high school and college across the country are dealing with struggles that nobody has solutions for.
Between remote classes, canceled social gatherings, and isolation, many college students have had their lives uprooted and support systems stripped away. Most students have lost key milestones like graduations, proms, and in-person college experiences. According to the Healthy Minds survey, an annual survey of thousands of students nationwide, the rate of depression, anxiety, and serious thoughts of suicide doubled among college students over the past 10 years even before COVID. Now, colleges big and small across America are seeing harrowing numbers of students dying by suicide on their campuses.
But administrators are conflicted over easing COVID restrictions for the sake of students' mental health. Eli Capilouto, President of the University of Kentucky, said, "If we’re not careful, we’re going to trade one epidemic for another, and in many ways I think we are.”
The mental health epidemic that Capilouto references is by no means a new or COVID-specific phenomenon, although the pandemic has certainly exacerbated it. Yasmeen, Chief Operating Officer at S. Montgomery Admissions Consulting, graduated from Macalester College a few years ago. Reflecting on her experiences with mental health there, she shared, “I was on an antidepressant and anti-anxiety medication and used only some of my [ten free school-allotted] therapy sessions. I never did consistent counseling. I honestly didn't get the help I needed. I wasn't on the right medication and a couple therapy sessions doesn't really do much.”
“Ironically, my access [to] therapy sessions was revoked [after] one year because I missed three sessions due to sleeping in. The irony is that I was going to therapy to solve my severe insomnia problem–I was awake all night and asleep all day and it ruined my life,” she added.
Despite Yasmeen’s struggles with her school’s therapy offerings, she mentioned that “Friendship [was] probably the biggest thing that kept me afloat.” Some of her happiest memories were with her friends and the support they provided in small ways, such as bringing her food or walking her to class. But so many of these social support structures have disappeared under the pandemic, which is why systemic mental health resources at colleges are even more crucial now than before.
Additionally, colleges must keep in mind mental health resources that factor in identity-based struggles and support. I want to highlight that for many students of color, including Black and Asian students in particular, COVID anxieties have been exacerbated by the fear and trauma from acts of racial violence against their communities since the beginning of the pandemic in 2020. And for many low-income and first-generation students, COVID anxieties have been exacerbated by financial instability.
Many of today's college students feel that the struggles they face are bigger than themselves. Stephanie Secaira, Assistant College Counselor at S. Montgomery Admissions Consulting and current Senior at Barnard College, said, “Being First-Generation, Low-Income (FGLI), and Latina, my adjustment to college was difficult. I experienced imposter syndrome and immediately let the stress culture at [Barnard College at] Columbia University get to me. I also had trouble advocating for myself, which is common amongst underserved populations in college.”
In her second semester of Freshman year, she decided to seek therapy, which she says helped her immensely. However, it wasn’t until the beginning of her Junior year that she was finally able to see an outpatient therapist.
Through her own experiences, Stephanie has learned the importance of advocating for oneself, and how crucial peer mentorship can be for FGLI, BIPOC, international, and minoritized students in learning how to be your own advocate. However, she also highlights how a pervasive “stress culture” on college campuses disproportionately affects minoritized students and students from underserved backgrounds who often don’t enter college with established support networks.
Despite attending college years apart, Yasmeen and Stephanie echo each other with their stories. This points to chronic issues of service and accessibility of resources. Even when resources exist, many students struggle to use them, or simply don’t know how. When we advocate for more robust mental health and wellness resources at schools across the country, it means we also advocate for institutional mental health education. To achieve this, lawmakers and administrators must recognize the importance of adequate funding for mental health services at schools and universities. If they do not, the consequences might become insurmountable.
While systemic change at state and federal levels are long overdue, there are also small ways that each of us can help someone on an individual level. If you are a parent, relative, or friend of a high school or college student, reach out to them. Ask them how they're doing. Let them know that they have your support, even if that means simply listening. Tell them that you are proud of how far they've come, and most importantly, that they are not alone.