Trigger Warning: The following article contains discussions of mental illness and suicide. If you believe these topics may be triggering for you, please proceed with caution.
“I’m feeling suicidal.” As these words left my mouth, I felt absolutely nothing. Standing before my academic advisor, I was simply following my own instructions. It was December 9th, 2024—my 25th birthday—and I had made a deal with myself the night before: I would wake up early the next morning, accompany my mom to the gym, and then drive to campus. Next, I would roll the dice on my life by approaching my advisor’s door. If she was in her office, I decided, I would be brutally honest with her about my feelings. If she wasn’t, I would kill myself.
That escalated quickly, you might be thinking. In reality, itescalated slowly. I was experiencing a severe episode of suicidal depression brought on by months of stress and non-compliance with my medications. I know now that what happened was entirely preventable, but it required me to be open and honest about my mental health. I had long been in denial about the reality of my major depressive disorder—that it was a serious medical condition, not a character flaw, and should be treated as such.
The truth is, my situation is far from unique. A 2024 survey of 3,649 college students by U.S. News found that 70% of students have struggled with their mental health since they started college. Furthermore, the most recent study by Healthy Minds Network indicates that 50% of college students have been diagnosed with a mental health condition in the past. Students also reported an 81% increase in symptoms of depression compared to a decade ago.
Being that over half of Dominican’s students are Hispanic or Latine, I would be remiss to gloss over the disparities in mental healthcare faced by ethnic and racial minorities. For example, the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services reports that in 2023, Hispanic adults were 60% less likely to have received mental healthcare than non-Hispanic white adults. Similar disparities apply across other minority groups, including Black and Indigenous people of color.
Dominican University’s Wellness Center offers a variety of mental health services, from mental health screenings to one-on-one counseling and medication management, free of charge to students. But what is missing from the lineup is community. The Wellness Center’s website mentions “support groups and workshops,” but there seems to be little awareness of these programs. Upon my inquiry, a Wellness Center representative explained that they “have had trouble getting students engaged.”
So how can we, as students, boost engagement surrounding mental health and wellness? How can we better advocate for ourselves and each other? Why not build a community of students on campus who care? Knowing that the current offerings at Dominican were not enough, I conducted a search for mental health organizations at other schools. That’s when I came across NAMI on Campus.
NAMI, or the National Alliance on Mental Illness, is the leading grassroots organization in the United States that supports individuals living with mental illness as well as their families. They offer an abundance of free resources, including educational programs and support groups. NAMI on Campus is their initiative for student-run mental health clubs on high school and college campuses across the nation. Club activities include raising awareness through fairs, walks, and vigils; educating with presentations, guest speakers, and student panels; advocating for improved mental health services on campus; and offering peer support through NAMI programs and training.
What barriers might we face in forming such a club? One of our greatest obstacles is the fear of stigma. In the aforementioned Healthy Minds study, 41% of respondents agreed that ‘Most people would think less of someone who has received mental health treatment.’ Yet only 7% of respondents claim to actually hold that belief. Do I believe that people will think less of me when I tell them I have depression, that I have attempted suicide, that I have been hospitalized for my condition five separate times? Not necessarily, but I do believe that they will make judgements about me, and that sparks intense shame and anxiety.
So how do I combat this feeling? What has helped me in the past? As cliché as it may seem, knowing that I’m not alone in my struggles has made it easier to request and accept help. Although “you are not alone” has been parroted to me over and over, it has taken time for me to see truth in that statement. Speaking with other patients and hospital staff during my last hospitalization helped a lot. I was particularly touched by a social worker who told me he had earned his master’s at Dominican following his own tour of mental hospitals while he was in undergrad. “I had a drug problem, psychosis, depression; it took me ten years to graduate.” But he did it. Seeing him sitting across from me with his pressed shirt and name badge, I suddenly saw myself in his place, helping others with mental illness.
A benefit of the hospital was that it was a judgement-free zone. It was easy to build community with other patients: they understood my situation, as they were going through it themselves. And several (if not most) of the staff had once been in my position or were close to someone with mental illness—that is what has led many mental healthcare workers to the profession. Being in the hospital has helped me, but it has also been traumatic, and—dare I say—expensive. Still, I remember people from every one of my hospitalizations; their stories have stayed with me and their compassion even more so.
But you don’t have to be in a healthcare setting to practice compassion, and I believe that partnering with NAMI would be an effective way to start a real conversation about mental health on campus. NAMI is a proponent of research and evidence-based practice (EBP), meaning that many of its programs have been subject to external research for evaluation. Programs such as NAMI Peer-to-Peer (an educational program for individuals with mental illness) and NAMI Family-to-Family (a class for loved ones) have been shown to improve recovery outcomes, increase understanding, and reduce stigma. As someone who has attended NAMI events and groups, I know this organization has power. I know that speaking out about mental health has power. I know that we, as Dominican, have power to help people realize that their life is worth fighting for.
I have been depressed since the age of 12 and suicidal on and off since my sophomore year of high school. If you had asked 15-year-old me if I thought I would make it to 25, I would have given you the sincerest “No, probably not.” But ten years later, I am still here, and I have my family, doctors, nurses, therapists, and University staff to thank for it. But I also attribute my survival to my peers—my friends, coworkers, fellow patients, and yes, my classmates. This long list reveals to me that not only am I never alone, but also that I am that person for somebody else, whether I know it or not. And so are you.
To register NAMI on Campus as an official DU student organization, we need a president, vice president, faculty/staff advisor, and three additional general members.
If you are in crisis or need emotional support, dial 988 to reach the national mental health hotline.
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