Trigger Warning: Mentions of depression and hospitalization

On the night of October 11th, 2021, what was I doing? An essay for one of my classes. I was always on top of my work, making sure I turned it in on time before the necessary deadlines, so I could have some personal alone time as always. Growing up in a Caribbean household, I wasn’t entitled to privacy. I grew up comfortably in a tiny apartment with a single mom and three older siblings (one including my twin brother), so who was I to complain about not having that privacy, right? It was something you earned, not a given privilege or right. That night after completing my essay, I was overwhelmed with not having those privileges. It turned into a screaming match with my mother and although I never stepped out of line whenever this occurred, it became all too much for me to handle. On the night of October 11, 2021, I was taken to Kings County Hospital in the back of an ambulance to be evaluated and eventually diagnosed with severe depression.

I could remember all of the questions I was asked by the doctor. Was I doing well in school? Yes. Did I have a good social life? Not enough to brag about. Did I have a good relationship with my mother? And that’s when it dawned on me, that I didn’t have enough boundaries with my mother. Here I was in my second year of college and I was still being coddled by my mother, who saw me as her last born and baby. I didn’t have the privilege to hang out with my friends whenever I wanted to. I couldn’t decide on what career path I wanted to take in life, it was decided for me. Lastly, if I went outside, I’d have to give my exact location and hour of the day, I’d be arriving home. Being the daughter of a Jamaican immigrant came with unexplainable rules that I couldn’t verbally explain to peers because they just wouldn’t understand.

After being diagnosed with severe depression, I made the necessary follow-up appointments for checkups with the hope of finding an affordable therapist. Sadly, it came with a hefty price and it became mind-boggling to me that I was still desperately searching for those resources between the hours I took classes on campus. How was I going to solve the inner conflict within myself while still giving my one hundred percent in school? How was I supposed to pay out-of-pocket for tuition and still have enough money to pay for a good therapist? The pandemic was still at its peak and I couldn’t schedule an appointment with a mental health counselor on my campus on such short notice. Some of these factors are the reasons why CUNY should improve its efficiency in mental health. Why they should invest in hiring counselors that can relate to multiple demographics of student bodies, especially first-generation immigrant college students. Everyone has a story to tell and we want to be comfortable enough to share it with those in charge that can understand what obstacles in life we’re currently facing. I still am doing my best in classes, and successfully created boundaries with my mother, but hopefully, CUNY can try their very best with their students as well and provide them with the resources they desperately need.

Kaylah Williams is a member of Young Invincibles-New York’s 2022 Spring Young Advocates Program.