Sometimes I think I would have been better off at the University of Minnesota. I was apprehensive, coming to Middlebury: I was worried about the rural setting — I’m a city kid — as well as the cost and the potentially stifling small size. I have seasonal depression, so I was also worried about the winter. Still, I looked beyond my anxieties and came here with an open mind.
In fact, the experience of my first year here was roughly what I expected it to be. I made good friends, and my classes were interesting, but my mental health was terrible. I was experiencing all of the typical depression symptoms, but more intensely than I had before. I wanted to flee to somewhere bigger, sunnier and more urban. I called my mother and told her that I wanted to transfer. She was supportive, but she asked me one question, just to make sure:
“Are you sure you’re not doing something destructive?”
It can be easy to lose sight of the value of things when you’re depressed. Hobbies, relationships and the future seem to wither in your mind. All of a sudden, an immensely valuable Middlebury education feels completely secondary to simply feeling OK. I believe that you should take care of your emotional well-being first, and that we can all do better in that regard. I also believe that, even though it can be hard to be mentally well at Middlebury, struggling is OK and can be compatible with a fulfilling college life. You can struggle well and successfully — and there are a few attitudes that I think go a long way.
First, you should temper your expectations of Middlebury’s administration. To be clear, it’s not that we don’t deserve better as students — but all institutions are run by fallible people who can only do so much. During the pandemic, my high school was frayed at the edges: teachers’ strikes, no school buses, lunch lines longer than the lunch period, students having seizures off drugs and a principal credulous enough that she was tricked into throwing a gang sign on camera (C for Central!). The teachers and students held the school together through constant disruption. In retrospect, I was much too stressed about the school’s problems when I could have been taking better care of myself. Middlebury has its own problems, but that’s normal, in my view. You can’t expect the school to save you.
Second, on a related note, I feel that the mental health resources at this college are about as good as one can expect. When I tried to get help for the first time at home, my health insurance gave me a two-month lead time before my intake. Thankfully, my parents decided to pay for private therapy, which helped me better understand what I was experiencing. Here, I can get care every week for free. Regardless of its quality, this is a gift that we are fortunate to have.
My best experience with on-campus healthcare was when I got medication for the first time last year. I was nervous; I wanted something that made my depression more manageable without making me feel like a different person. The staff at the Center for Health and Wellness made me feel heard and respected, and they gave me better care than I have received from anyone in my whole life. I will be resuming Wellbutrin later this month.
With that said, simply using those resources is often not sufficient to be mentally well on this campus. The small size, isolated setting, and academic rigor can create a sort of mental and social pressure chamber. This is to be expected — and I believe that it falls on us students to make it easier to be well, both for ourselves and for others in our community.
I still struggle with my depression, and I don’t have all the answers. What I can tell you is that the best thing you can do is to keep showing up. I suggest that you make a list of little things — taking a little walk, eating a piece of fruit, making a little drawing — and make a deal with yourself to do them even if you don’t feel like it. It’s OK to struggle, and it’s OK to ask for help. Being depressed can feel embarrassing, but there is nothing embarrassing about letting people know that you’re having a hard time.
If someone tells you that they’re struggling, in all likelihood, they don’t mean for it to be a big deal. They may not need your advice, or even your commiseration. When I’m depressed, I just don’t want people to wonder about me — and I want to continue to be included, even if I seem a bit off. One more opportunity to show up goes a long way. This, I trust, we can provide for each other.
