The Lifeline of Campus Mental Health Services
In 2020, my world fell apart. Within months, I lost my dog, my ex-boyfriend, a grandfather figure, and my great-grandfather—each to different causes, including old age, COVID-19, and gun violence. Every loss hit like a wave, pulling me under before I could catch my breath. Grief became relentless. I barely had time to process one death before another came crashing down.
The weight of it all was suffocating. I felt trapped in my pain, completely alone. Being three hours away from my family only made it worse—there were no familiar arms to collapse into, no comfort to ease the ache. I withdrew. My grades slipped, but I didn’t care. The world felt unbearable, and I was drowning in it. I was just trying to survive.
After about three weeks, my school noticed my failing grades and requested a meeting. I don’t remember much of that conversation—I think I blacked out from anger. Not because they were trying to help but because they wanted me to talk about it. I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want to explain. I just wanted the pain to stop. But looking back, I think they saw how much I was struggling. Maybe they noticed how my clothes hung looser on my body or how my face had thinned since my last student ID photo. Whatever it was, they reached out to the school’s counseling center.
That’s how I met Sherry.
Sherry, a campus counselor, wanted to meet once a week. I refused. I didn’t want help. But instead of pushing, she simply said, “You don’t have to tell me yes now, but if you want it—I’m here.”
Two weeks passed before I reached out.
That day, I had just walked out of class after my professor asked if I was okay. I didn’t respond—I just left. The moment I stepped outside, my body shut down. My chest tightened, my hands shook, and I sat frozen in place, crying and gasping for air. A panic attack. Unable to type, I used Siri to call my roommate, who stayed on the phone until I could breathe again.
That was when I realized I didn’t want to live like this anymore. And if I was going to keep living, something had to change.
That night, I emailed Sherry.
From then on, I met with her every week until I graduated in 2023. Some sessions were harder than others. Some days, I barely spoke. Other days, I cried the entire time. But every session, she showed up for me—offering a space where I could begin to process my grief, my pain, my isolation.
Looking back, I know that without access to campus mental health services, I might not be here today. The truth is, I could have taken my life. But I didn’t. Because my school had mental health resources in place, I got the support I needed to keep going.
That’s why fully funding campus mental health support isn’t just important—it’s necessary. The 2019 Mental Health Early Action on Campus Act must be fully funded yearly because mental health services save lives. Not just mine but the lives of countless students who struggle in silence, believing they have nowhere to turn.
I know I was one of the lucky ones. Many schools lack the funding to provide students with the care they need. Some students wait months for an appointment. Others are limited to just a handful of sessions. And too many never reach out at all—because they don’t believe help is available.
We can change that.
By fully funding mental health programs on college campuses, we ensure that students in crisis have access to professionals who can help them navigate their struggles. We create a system where no student has to suffer alone—where resources aren’t just available but actively encouraged.
This isn’t just an investment in health care or education. It’s an investment in human lives.
I am here today because of the support I received. Now, it’s time to ensure every student has that same chance.
Mental health services on college campuses save lives. Let’s fund them like they do.
Aguayo, Evelyn, IL
A Missed Opportunity: My Journey with Campus Mental Health Support
When I started college in 2020, nothing was how I had imagined it would be. Instead of moving into a dorm, meeting my floormates, and exploring campus between classes, I was stuck in my childhood bedroom, attending virtual lectures and only knowing my classmates as little boxes on Zoom.
I had struggled with loneliness and anxiety before, but like millions of others, the pressures and losses of the pandemic pushed these feelings to new levels. At first, I hoped they would be temporary, that once the world returned to normal, my mental health would, too. But as time passed, I realized that wasn’t the case. Even as in-person life resumed, the weight of my struggles remained.
My parents knew I was having a hard time and encouraged me to seek help through my school’s counseling services. But I resisted. I had plenty of excuses—spending even more time on Zoom felt unbearable, I didn’t want to take up limited mental health resources that I felt others needed more, and, perhaps most of all, I feared the stigma of seeking treatment.
While the virtual aspect was temporary, the other barriers never disappeared. Looking back, I believe that if my school’s mental health resources had been better funded and more widely available, I wouldn’t have hesitated as much. I wouldn’t have felt guilty about seeking help, and the stigma surrounding mental health might have been lessened.
After graduating, my mental health challenges only grew. And I quickly realized that the obstacles to seeking care in college—while daunting at the time—were nothing compared to the barriers I faced in the real world.
Finding a mental health provider as a recent graduate has been exhausting. Many providers aren’t taking new patients, and even fewer specialize in my specific needs. Insurance has been another nightmare. Despite finding an in-network provider, my insurance company initially refused to acknowledge that my family had met our deductible, leaving me to pay out of pocket in the hopes of being reimbursed later.
I regret not taking advantage of my school’s mental health services when I had access to them. But even though I didn’t use them myself, I saw how vital they were for my peers. Thanks to the Mental Health Early Action on Campus Act—and hopefully, increased funding—more students will have access to the care they need before they reach a breaking point.
As I begin my postgraduate studies, I plan to use campus mental health services this time around. And with increased funding, I hope they will be even more accessible—not just for me, but for every student who needs them.
Mental health care shouldn’t be a privilege; it should be a guarantee.
Andersen, Finn, IL
Navigating Mental Health: How Campus Resources Supported Me Through Burnout, Anxiety, and Depression
Throughout college, I faced significant mental health challenges—burnout, anxiety, and depression. As a first-generation student juggling multiple jobs to support myself, I struggled to balance academics, work, and personal life. The pressure to excel while staying financially afloat left me physically and emotionally drained. It wasn’t until I accessed my school’s mental health resources that I finally saw a way forward.
The anxiety of trying to meet deadlines, perform well in class, and maintain a steady income was overwhelming. I was exhausted, constantly running on empty, barely managing to keep up. Burnout took hold, and soon, depression followed. I felt isolated, disconnected, and unsure of how to cope. But despite how much I was struggling, I hesitated to seek help. I felt like I should be able to “handle it all.” I also wasn’t fully aware of the mental health resources available or how to navigate them. Adding one more thing to my already chaotic schedule felt impossible.
Eventually, I hit a breaking point. I couldn’t keep going like this. So, I took the first step and visited my campus counseling center. That decision changed everything.
The clinical staff were understanding and nonjudgmental, helping me identify the root causes of my anxiety and depression. Through counseling, I learned coping strategies that made the stress more manageable. The short-term medical support I received—like temporary medications—helped stabilize me so I could focus on my more profound emotional struggles. And because these resources were on campus, I could access them without disrupting my packed schedule.
Beyond immediate support, therapy gave me something even more valuable—long-term strategies for managing stress. I learned how to set boundaries, prioritize my mental health, and work toward a healthier balance in my life. Over time, I regained control. I could breathe again.
Access to on-campus mental health services made a profound difference in my college experience. Without them, I don’t know how I would have navigated those years—or what toll it would have taken on my future. I believe the Mental Health Early Action on Campus Act must be fully funded annually.
For students like me, mental health care isn’t optional—it’s essential. College is stressful enough without the added burden of untreated anxiety, depression, or burnout. Ensuring that students have access to counseling, medical support, and wellness resources is not just an investment in education—it’s an investment in lives.
I am forever grateful for the support that helped me overcome my struggles. Now, it’s time to ensure every student has that same opportunity. No one should have to suffer in silence. Fully funding campus mental health services means ensuring that no student is left without the needed help.
Because mental health care should never be out of reach.
Collins, David Michael, IL
Breaking My Silence
Before college, I never thought much about mental health. I had always managed stress in my own way—pushing through challenges without acknowledging how much they affected me. But once I got to campus, everything changed. The pressure of tuition, balancing classes and work, and staying involved in extracurriculars started to build up. At first, I brushed it off—feeling exhausted, unmotivated, and overwhelmed before the day even started seemed normal. Everyone was stressed, right?
What I didn’t realize was that I was slowly burning out. Some days, I struggled to concentrate in class. Other days, I felt like I was just going through the motions, barely keeping up while constantly feeling like I was falling behind. I thought about reaching out for help, but doubts flooded my mind. Would the waitlist be too long? Would I even have time for therapy? Was my stress “bad enough” to justify taking a spot that someone else might need more? These thoughts kept me from seeking help for a long time.
When I finally reached out, I realized how life-changing it was to have someone listen. My campus counselor didn’t have all the answers, but they gave me tools to manage my anxiety, strategies to balance my workload, and—most importantly—reassurance that I wasn’t alone. For the first time, I wasn’t just surviving college; I was learning how to thrive.
But even though I was lucky to get the support I needed, I saw firsthand how many students struggled to access services. Some had to wait weeks for an appointment. Others didn’t even know help was available. That’s why the 2019 Mental Health Early Action on Campus Act must be fully funded every year.
Mental health support isn’t a luxury—it’s a necessity. Students shouldn’t have to reach a breaking point before they can access care. Fully funding campus mental health services means hiring more counselors, reducing wait times, and expanding outreach so that every student knows where to turn when they need help.
College is already challenging enough without the burden of untreated mental health struggles. Investing in these services isn’t just about helping students in crisis—it’s about giving every student the opportunity to succeed. Because when we take care of our mental health, we’re able to show up fully for our education, our future, and ourselves.
Hillard, Hassan, IL
Mental Health Support is Life or Death
My first semester at the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign was the most stressful time of my life. A new school. A new level of expectations. An altogether unfamiliar environment. What if I fail a class? How do I study for these courses? Where will I end up if I don’t build a stellar resume and earn at least a 3.5 GPA?
Stress. Imposter syndrome. Depression. Anxiety. These were struggles I had faced before, but I had never tried medication, nor did I have the tools to manage them on my own.
Then, just like that, I was on academic probation. My grades had already slipped during my senior year of high school, leading to my removal from the university’s Honors Program before I started. Now, after my first semester, I was facing dismissal. The noise in my head never stopped. The weight on my shoulders never lifted. The pressure in my chest never loosened. But in 2012, what other options did I have without a college degree? How else would I build a career that allowed me to survive? My life felt over.
That was the first time I attempted suicide. But it wouldn’t be the last.
Despite everything, I fought my way through and graduated with a 3.52 GPA and distinction in Communication. But the battle for my mental health was far from over. I had pushed myself to the limit trying to compensate for my rough start—18+ credit hour semesters, multiple campus jobs, summer classes, scholarship pageants, study abroad, off-campus work, community service, and countless applications. I did everything I could to prove I deserved to be there.
By the time I finished my master’s degree and attended law school at a top-ranked program, I was utterly burnt out. Mental stability? Never met her. Emotional stability? Couldn’t tell you what that is. But I could introduce you to PTSD, anxiety, clinical depression, OCD, and borderline personality disorder. At least 10 mental breakdowns and four suicide attempts later—this is 30.
Looking back, I can’t imagine how I would have survived without access to mental health services through my college and law school insurance plans. The worst setback I ever experienced was when I was wrongfully dismissed from school. Suddenly, I lost all access to Student Wellness resources. I had just started making progress with my psychotherapist. I was about to enroll in the Academic Skills Assessment Program (ASAP) to manage my academic performance and receive accommodations through the Student Disability Services (SDS). To make matters worse, my longtime psychiatrist had just closed her practice to take a job with the university, leaving me without any transition plan. The impact of this was devastating—I have yet to fully recover from the experience, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
This is why mental health services on college campuses are not optional. They are essential. Every student, regardless of their academic standing or financial situation, deserves access to the support they need. No one should have to fight for their education and their survival at the same time.
Whitaker, Subria, IL