Storytelling is central to advocacy at Young Invincibles. Colorado Young Advocates share their stories on basic needs and mental health.
Check them out below:
Prompt: It’s not enough just to get your foot in the door: for students who work, have children, experience food or housing insecurity, or lack mental health support, these obstacles can be the difference between completing your degree and getting stuck. What are your experiences with lacking your basic needs?
How I Was Able to Afford Food in College
Moving halfway across the country to attend the University of Colorado Boulder in the midst of the pandemic, I quickly realized how challenging it would be to live on my own. I was alone in Colorado with no family, friends, or support network. As an out-of-state student, I had to take out large private loans, pay rent for an off-campus apartment, and cover other financial obligations like food and a car payment. There was no way I could survive in Colorado by just attending school.
So, in addition to being a full-time student, I had to find ways to make money. I managed to secure two part-time jobs and used any free time I had between work and classes to do odd jobs, like donating plasma and delivering for DoorDash. It’s safe to say I was putting in close to 70 hours a week between work and class.
One day in class, a professor mentioned that full-time students could apply for food benefits (SNAP). Hearing that I could potentially reduce my financial burden by $200-$300 a month was a huge relief. After class, I immediately went online and submitted an application. A few weeks later, I had an interview, and soon after that, I received an EBT card with a monthly food balance of about $290, along with an additional $50 per month, specifically for gas.
With the help of Colorado’s assistance program, I no longer had to worry about spending my limited funds on basic needs like food. This support made a huge difference to my mental health and allowed me to focus more on my studies. Thanks to the stability provided by SNAP, I was able to graduate with a 3.7 GPA.
Food insecurity is an issue that affects many college students. Being unable to afford something as basic as food can significantly impact a student’s ability to sustain themselves and focus on their education. Relying on a ramen and beans diet is unhealthy and limits the nutrition necessary for physical and mental growth. Programs like SNAP are lifelines for students and others who are financially struggling. I believe it’s essential that our government continues to support programs like SNAP, giving college students the ability to stay fed while they work towards their education and future careers.
Matthew Miranda, CO
Prompt: Do you have a story on mental health? How has access to mental services affected your life? If you haven’t accessed mental health services, what were some obstacles in the way?
Beyond the Dream
As the sun glittered through the trees, casting a golden hue on the mountain peaks above, I was reminded of the first time I stepped onto a college campus—a moment etched vividly in my memory. The University of Colorado Boulder radiated vibrant energy and a welcoming atmosphere. It was a place I never imagined I’d be, a dream I had barely dared to nurture. I recall walking the campus with my grandmother, her eyes brimming with hope as she encouraged me and my siblings to embrace the possibilities of higher education. For me, college became more than a dream; it became a lifeline. It represented the promise of overcoming adversity and forging a brighter path—not just for myself but for my younger siblings, too.
However, I soon learned that getting into college was only the first hurdle. Upon arriving on campus, I discovered that my Medicaid coverage wouldn’t transfer out of state. Suddenly, I faced the daunting prospect of paying for the university’s health insurance—a cost that felt overwhelming and burdensome. College, which I had envisioned as a beacon of opportunity and freedom, instead introduced me to new challenges I hadn’t anticipated.
What was supposed to be a fresh start quickly became a struggle to navigate financial barriers and hidden obstacles like health care access. This experience taught me how systemic inequities can complicate the journey to higher education for students like me. While I remain grateful for the chance to pursue my dreams, I also recognize the need for institutions to address these barriers and create a more inclusive and supportive environment for all students.
Anonymous Young Adult, CO
Grieving and Mental Health in College
College can be an overwhelming and stressful experience. For me, the most challenging times were during my freshman and sophomore years. As a person of color at a predominantly white institution, I often felt out of place and struggled to find a supportive community where I could belong. During my freshman year, I was diagnosed with ADHD. While the diagnosis provided clarity about my academic challenges, it also raised new questions about how to navigate life with this condition. Therapy was recommended to help me develop strategies for learning and working, but I couldn’t afford it. Without access to the resources I needed, I faced significant difficulties adjusting to both college life and my diagnosis.
My mental health struggles also took a toll on my physical health. I lost a tremendous amount of weight while trying to adapt to life in the dorms and new ADHD medication. The overwhelming stress of this period left me feeling isolated and unsupported.
In my sophomore year, I faced another devastating challenge: the loss of a close friend to cancer. She passed just weeks before the school year began and weeks before she was supposed to start her freshman year of college. It was my first real encounter with grief, and I was completely unprepared to handle the emotions that came with it. For months, I avoided confronting my loss by throwing myself into work. It wasn’t until a staff member at my university connected me with a grief therapist that I began to process what had happened.
Therapy, particularly art therapy, became a critical part of my healing journey. Through it, I found a way to channel my emotions and better understand my grief. However, my college only offered six counseling sessions per semester, which, while helpful, wasn’t enough to fully address the depth of my pain.
Ultimately, what helped me navigate these challenges were the support systems and friendships I developed over time. Therapy played a vital role in my healing process, but having friends who understood and stood by me made a profound difference. I learned to take care of myself, both physically and emotionally, and to honor the incredible loss I had experienced. While I still grieve my friend and continue to navigate life with ADHD, these challenges have become more manageable with time.
This journey taught me the critical importance of mental health resources that go beyond minimal offerings. It also showed me that support can come from many places—not just from mental health professionals but also from friends, community, and self-care.
College is often described as the “best years” of our lives, but for many of us, that narrative doesn’t align with reality. Navigating college can be stressful and difficult, yet healing can be found in both systems of support and the communities we build around us.
Ashley Garica Torres, CO
Sailing Through the Storm: My Mental Health Journey in College
As a first-generation college student, navigating the intricacies of higher education felt overwhelming—made even more challenging by the disruptions of COVID-19. Attending community college seemed like a practical decision, especially as the pandemic reshaped how students across the nation pursued their education. While I was fortunate to have my parents’ support while studying from home, the isolation from peers and the absence of a sense of belonging on campus took a toll on my mental health. Recognizing this, I sought involvement in extracurricular activities to cultivate the community I craved. However, this approach came with its own cost: burnout—a realization I made all too late.
My second and final year at community college was the hardest. No one prepares you for the emotional toll of transferring. Although I was accepted to several in-state universities, I felt immense pressure to make a decision sooner than I was ready for. Anxiety gripped me, and I often cried over feelings of hopelessness, as though all my hard work had been for nothing. Just as I was beginning to feel lost and defeated, I received an acceptance letter from an out-of-state university with which I had fallen in love. Transferring there felt like the right step; it meant leaving behind my hometown, my friends, and everything familiar. This new chapter brought both excitement and fear as I grappled with depression and anxiety.
Transferring to a four-year institution proved more challenging than I anticipated. My first class was particularly difficult, with a professor who questioned the quality of my community college education. Their doubt made me feel inadequate, as though I didn’t belong. Yet, amid these struggles, I found a lifeline: the friendships I built with other students, many of whom were fellow transfer students. One of these students, who would later become my forensics (speech) coach, inspired me to take action. Together, we began advocating for our university to provide more support for transfer students.
Our mission was to amplify the voices of transfer students and advocate for resources that acknowledged our unique experiences. We championed the importance of mentorship and helped connect students with mentors who could guide them through the challenges of transferring and completing their degrees.
Despite setbacks with some professors, I found solace and inspiration through my sociology advisor, a fellow transfer student. Working with her, I channeled my experiences into my sociology senior capstone, focusing on the critical role of mentorship for community college transfer students. My research revealed how mentoring relationships significantly enhance transfer students’ sense of inclusion and academic success. For me, having mentors who understood my struggles not only improved my mental health but also helped me craft a plan for graduate school that prioritized my well-being.
However, mentorship alone isn’t enough. Not every student is as fortunate as I was to find understanding mentors. Institutions must take greater responsibility by offering accessible mental health resources and providing workshops that help faculty and staff recognize the diverse backgrounds of their students. Every student deserves an environment where they are supported and valued, regardless of where they started.
Sailing through the storm of navigating my mental health and academic challenges has fueled my passion for advocating for transfer students like myself. My journey shows that with the right support, transfer students can thrive—not just academically but holistically.
Citlaly Quiroz, CO
Navigating Now
I took my first breath in an army hospital in Seoul, South Korea. Two years later, my parents’ military careers brought us to the quiet countryside of northern Italy, where I would spend much of my childhood. I grew up surrounded by beauty in art, food, and nature, and my parents’ love for travel gave me glimpses of the world beyond my own from a young age. I still cherish the memory of savoring fresh yogurt from a local farm in the Swiss Alps after a long day of hiking, with my Appa’s words etched in my mind: “You’ll always remember this.”
Yet, one of my earliest memories is sitting alone against the side of our house on a gray day, feeling not just sadness but emptiness—a sense of something missing that I couldn’t explain. That feeling of emptiness only grew stronger as I moved through life.
Seemingly conflicting truths shaped my home. Warmth and wonder coexisted with anger and emotional unavailability. I was raised with the mantra, “Many have it worse than you,” which left me feeling I had no right to be sad or upset given my privilege. As a teenager, I masked my emotional sensitivity with a facade of stoicism and indifference. But beneath the surface, I felt deeply—too deeply, it seemed.
A perfectionist to my core, I couldn’t bear the thought of making mistakes, and my academic achievements reflected this. But no amount of praise for my grades could satisfy me. Desperate for acceptance, I turned to controlling my weight and food intake. Though I couldn’t see it at the time, I was convinced that my appearance would earn me the love I craved. Food, of course, was only a symptom of a deeper belief: that I wasn’t worthy of love just as I was.
When controlling my body failed to soothe the pain, I turned to substances to numb myself. I abused anything I could find, recklessly putting myself in dangerous situations in search of an escape. Like my disordered eating, this reckless behavior worked—until it didn’t. Feeling utterly hopeless in the depths of depression, I began to experience life-ending thoughts.
This is where my closest friends quite literally saved my life. They became a source of strength and a reminder that I wasn’t alone. A shift began to take place—slowly at first—and I started to move away from the version of myself that no longer wanted to live.
The road to healing has been anything but linear. Depression continued to affect me, particularly after relocating to the United States for college. Amidst more lows, I finally began processing my past, both privately and with the help of a therapist. Recalling my experiences in therapy has allowed me to cultivate empathy for my younger self and appreciate where I am today.
Now, I move through my days with the awareness that each feeling, relationship, and moment is fleeting. This awareness allows me to exist fully in the present. I am in awe of the fact that I get to experience the full spectrum of human emotion, and I embrace both the joys and heartbreaks that come with it.
Accessing mental health care has been crucial to my journey of self-discovery and to disrupting the patterns of generational trauma in my family. I recognize how fortunate I’ve been, but I am also aware that many of my peers are not as lucky. They struggle silently, lacking the resources to confront their emotional wounds. For those facing challenges such as financial instability, cultural disconnection, or inaccessible services, the absence of support can feel insurmountable.
My story is a testament to the transformative power of support. I hope for a future where everyone has the opportunity to experience the joy of healing that I am just beginning to discover. For perhaps the first time, I feel as though I am embodying my truest self—moment by moment, day by day.
My Appa was right. I’ll always remember this.
Katherine Kim, CO
From Hope to Frustration: The Reality of Campus Mental Health Services
Starting college was a time of newfound freedom and growth, especially when it came to prioritizing my mental health. Leaving home felt like the perfect opportunity to focus on myself, and I was encouraged by the availability of mental health services through my university’s health center. Having a safe space to talk through my experiences felt like the right step forward. However, I quickly discovered that accessing these services wouldn’t be as straightforward as I had hoped.
The first challenge I encountered was my health insurance. Being on Medicaid significantly limited the options available to me for therapy and other support. Even when I managed to schedule appointments, the overwhelming demand for counseling services resulted in long wait times, making it nearly impossible to secure consistent care. When I finally did get a slot, the short appointment sessions felt rushed, leaving little room to fully open up or address deeper issues.
Finding a counselor I felt comfortable with added another layer of difficulty. For personal reasons, I felt it was important to work with a male counselor, but male counselors were in short supply within my school’s health network. Each time I found someone I connected with, their time at the university seemed temporary.
I remember one counselor in particular who truly made me feel understood. After a few sessions, I felt we were finally making progress, digging into deeper topics and starting to address the core of my challenges. But just as things started to improve, he informed me that our next session would be our last—he was leaving the university for a new job.
I felt a wave of frustration and disappointment. It was difficult not to think about how many other students might be experiencing this same cycle of finally building trust with a counselor, only to lose that support because of staff turnover. Sitting in that final session, I tried to absorb everything he was saying while grappling with the reality of having to start over with someone new.
Over time, the repeated disruptions took their toll. The idea of retelling my story to yet another new counselor and hoping they might stick around long enough for us to make real progress became exhausting. Eventually, I decided to stop seeking therapy through campus services altogether. Instead, I turned to Telehealth psychiatry to manage my immediate medical needs, but I put therapy on hold, feeling that the instability of the services wasn’t worth the effort.
Looking back, I see how turnover and limited resources in mental health services create real barriers for students seeking consistent support. It’s disheartening to think that the very systems designed to help us can sometimes leave us feeling even more overwhelmed. I share my story in the hope that it brings attention to the need for stable, accessible, and long-term mental health resources on campuses. Every student deserves a system that supports their healing and growth, without the constant fear of losing that support just as they begin to make progress.
Manuel Marquez Avalos, CO
Beyond the Surface: The Struggles to Access Mental Health Care as A Young Person
When I was fifteen, I walked into a doctor’s office, hoping to change the world. I didn’t realize it at the time, but making that appointment, driving there, and ultimately stepping into the office were the first steps in transforming not only my reality but also the realities of those who would follow in my footsteps.
I had made the appointment to discuss lifesaving care, knowing deep down that it was time to take the next step in my journey. Years earlier, I had come to terms with my transgender identity, and this appointment represented an essential milestone in my progression. Sitting in the examination room, under the harsh glow of fluorescent lights, I told my doctor the truth about who I was and what I needed.
After a lengthy conversation, my hope turned to dismay when I was told they could not treat me because of my age. Despite their understanding of gender-affirming care, my diagnosis of gender dysphoria, and a psychiatric evaluation supporting my need for treatment, they lacked the training and resources to provide care to a minor. I left the office feeling hollow. What followed were three of the hardest years of my life.
Without access to the care I needed, my mental health spiraled. Basic tasks became overwhelming, and I felt isolated and disconnected from the world. As a young person without strong familial support, accessing mental health care presented an additional challenge. I initially turned to IMATTER Colorado, but telehealth services fell short of addressing my needs. My experience underscores the immense barriers many young people, especially those in rural or non-metropolitan areas, face when seeking mental health support.
Eventually, I was fortunate to find a mental health provider willing to work with me and adjust fees to make their services accessible. This support was instrumental in my journey, especially during a time when gender-affirming care remained out of reach. They gave me the tools I needed to navigate the most difficult moments of my life.
With the help of my community and newfound support, I continued my healing journey. When I turned 18, I finally gained access to the care I had been desperately seeking. While I am grateful for the compassionate individuals who stood by me, I know that not everyone has the same privilege.
Even as Colorado expands mental health care access, significant barriers remain for young people, especially those in marginalized communities. Moving forward, public health professionals and policymakers must prioritize removing these obstacles. Mental well-being is a fundamental right, and every person deserves access to the care they need to live authentically and thrive.
Mason Evans, CO
Out of Sight, Out of Mind
My name is Nieves, and living with both Type 1 diabetes and ADHD has shaped many aspects of my life—from managing my health to navigating school and relationships. It hasn’t always been easy, but one thing that has significantly impacted my journey is access to mental health services, particularly the support of a psychiatrist who helps me manage my ADHD.
I was diagnosed with ADHD shortly after high school. While the diagnosis wasn’t a huge surprise, it marked a turning point. I had always struggled with focus, organization, and impulse control, but during high school, it was easy to brush those struggles off as “just part of who I am.” After graduating, however, everything changed. My lack of focus and organization began affecting every area of my life—my ability to manage my diabetes, my relationships, and my academic goals. It felt overwhelming like I was stuck in what I jokingly called an “early midlife crisis.” That’s when I decided to seek help from a psychiatrist.
Receiving the ADHD diagnosis was both a relief and a challenge. On one hand, it was comforting to finally understand the reasons behind my struggles. On the other hand, managing ADHD while dealing with Type 1 diabetes felt like an uphill battle. ADHD symptoms like forgetfulness, impulsivity, and difficulty staying organized directly impacted my diabetes management. For example, I sometimes forgot to check my blood sugar or take insulin on time because I got distracted or lost track of time. My impulsiveness has also led to poor decisions regarding food or exercise, both of which can significantly impact blood sugar levels.
Beyond these physical challenges, living with ADHD has also brought anxiety and depression, which make it even harder to stay on top of things. The feeling of constantly falling short—of not being able to do “simple” things like sticking to a routine or keeping up with assignments—can weigh heavily. It’s a vicious cycle: falling behind makes me more anxious, the anxiety makes it harder to catch up, and then depression sets in, making me feel like I’ll never get it together. I often find myself asking, “Why can’t I just do what needs to be done?”
That’s where access to mental health services has been a game-changer for me. My psychiatrist has been an incredible support, helping me understand my ADHD and manage it in ways that work for me. I’m fortunate that my psychiatrist is covered by my insurance, but even then, finding the right help wasn’t easy. The demand for mental health services is high, and it was discouraging at times to navigate long waitlists and limited availability. Eventually, I found the support I needed, and it has made a world of difference.
Through therapy and medication management, I’ve learned strategies to break down tasks into smaller, more manageable steps. This simple shift has made balancing school and diabetes care much easier. I’ve also developed ways to combat impulsiveness, such as setting reminders for blood sugar checks or planning meals in advance. These small changes have helped me regain a sense of control over my life.
I can’t say my ADHD is “cured” or that all my struggles have disappeared, but with the right support, I’ve been able to cope and make meaningful progress. Becoming a mom has also encouraged me to self-reflect and stay on top of my responsibilities. There are still tough days—days when my mind feels like it’s going in a hundred directions at once or when I feel like I’ll never get a handle on things. But having a great support system and access to mental health resources has helped me tremendously.
Nieves Aragon, CO
How Access to Metal Health Showed Me My Superpower: Being Different
As a child, I was shy and awkward, trying to find my place in a world where I didn’t fit into the neat boxes society had crafted for girls. While other girls loved wearing dresses and chasing each other at recess, I wore loose-fitting clothes and found comfort in a soccer ball.
I know I’m not alone in being bullied, but each day felt like a battle—not just against the kids who taunted me for being different, but against my anxiety for not understanding why I couldn’t fit in. When my parents announced their divorce when I was seven, the isolation that had already settled around me felt even heavier.
That was when my parents brought me to a therapist. I remember that first session: I drew pictures, played games, and shared my feelings through a puppet. For the first time, I had a space where I could be honest about my fears without the fear of judgment. I learned that my feelings were valid and something many others experienced. Discovering that I wasn’t alone in my struggles was both comforting and empowering.
In those sessions, I found the power of speaking out. I learned tools to manage my emotions and strategies to cope with my anxiety. My therapist encouraged me to express myself—through words, art, and sports. Gradually, I began to open up, not just in therapy but with family and friends. I found community in my sports teams, learned to appreciate my sense of humor, and realized (and am still learning) that I don’t need to conform to societal expectations.
Reflecting on my experience, I’m deeply grateful for the access to mental health resources that my parents provided, especially in a time when mental health was rarely discussed. Therapy gave me a foundation for understanding my emotions and seeking help when I needed it. But I know I was fortunate; many young people still face barriers to accessing support.
Though society has made progress in destigmatizing mental health, quality therapy is often financially out of reach, and insurance companies treat mental health as an add-on rather than a basic need. Schools, too, often lack the resources to offer mental health support, focusing heavily on academics while emotional well-being remains an afterthought. Young people today are navigating an increasingly complicated world, with social media intensifying the pressure to fit in and succeed. They need accessible mental health resources as much as they need yearly check-ups.
Whenever I share my story, I hope it reaches another child who feels like an outlier, another family wondering if help exists, and another person struggling behind their walls. Knowing that my story could help others feel less alone and encourage more conversations about mental health in schools and communities gives me purpose. Let’s ensure that our communities have the right tools, the proper support, and, most importantly, the opportunity to access them.
Stacy Winner, CO
The Struggle of the US: Advocating for Mental Health Care Access
Mental health has been a persistent presence in my life, and managing it has often felt like an uphill battle. Growing up, I struggled with the idea of giving myself grace or prioritizing self-care. It felt like a weakness, especially when I looked at the adults around me who seemed to carry on despite their exhaustion or lack of hope. I admired their resilience and aspired to be like them—tough, unyielding, and unaffected by hardship. But as I got older, I realized life felt heavier for me. My emotions were more intense, often overpowering my logic, and I struggled to push through when I was emotionally unbalanced. Feeling overwhelmed brought with it a sense of shame, as though I hadn’t “earned” the right to feel this way. So, I stayed silent.
My journey with therapy began in the fifth grade. I started seeing a school therapist regularly, and having someone to talk to was transformative. Those short check-ins helped me develop self-awareness about my emotions and their triggers. Together, we explored coping mechanisms that allowed me to start managing my feelings in healthier ways. Unfortunately, this progress was cut short when I transitioned to high school. High school brought instability to my therapy journey; the therapist changed every year. By the time I felt comfortable opening up, they were replaced, forcing me to start over with someone new. Adding to this challenge was the rising demand for mental health support, making it difficult to even schedule a session. These disruptions made it hard for me to fully trust or benefit from the resources available, especially during the most turbulent period of my life.
Junior year was a turning point. Under immense stress with no reliable outlet, I reached a breaking point. By the end of the first quarter, I was completely overwhelmed and had to leave school for two months to receive professional care. During my time in hospital care, I met kids of all ages who were facing their own battles with mental health. I watched as many lost access to care because their insurance stopped covering it or their families couldn’t afford to continue treatment. Although I eventually returned to school, I chose not to continue therapy. My high school experience left me wary of mental health services.
Despite this, my journey has turned me into a strong advocate for better mental health resources and increased funding for programs addressing the mental health crisis. I’ve seen firsthand the devastating impact of inadequate access to care and how easily someone’s ability to get help can hinge on finances. Mental health is a serious issue, and it’s time we started treating it as such. Today, it’s someone else struggling without access to resources, but tomorrow, it could be you. Everyone deserves the chance to heal.
Stephanie Maldonado, CO