It’s okay not to be okay

“I’m fine, how are you?”

Regardless of whether you’ve had a seemingly perfect, Disney-esque day or the polar opposite, this is the universal, instinctive way to respond to a greeting. For years, “I’m fine” had been my polite go-to response whenever I bumped into someone I know. It was neutral and safe, and it plainly summed up all that I was willing to share. Like many others who struggle to let their guard down, I’m not quick to divulge my feelings to others, apart from the typical college-girl gossip and gabbing. However, in recent months, I’ve come to realize the importance of being vulnerable, open and raw about mental health.

Despite the ever-growing discussion about the importance of mental health and the University’s plethora of related resources, it felt taboo to open the convoluted can of worms that was my mental state. After all, as I had established in every instance of small talk, I was fine. To an extent, this was true — I had good grades, extracurriculars and a solid friend group. And when I thought about it, my late-night anxieties seemed asinine compared to the true hardships of others.

But starting this December, I began to come to terms with what I had long known to be true — I was far from fine. Despite the fact that I had developed a good work-life balance, got eight hours of sleep every night and journaled daily, I felt like a shell of myself, and I didn’t know why.

“Just power through it,” I’d tell myself. “It’s just a routine winter slump.” But this melancholy proved different from the typical seasonal gloom. The idea of socialization exhausted me, and I found myself making excuses to stay cooped up in my room, avoiding even those I loved dearly. I felt homesick, crying alone, something that the bright-eyed first-year from last winter would have been appalled at.

The sheer thought of asking for help, let alone seeking therapy, was foreign to me. As an independent only child who never truly relied on anyone or anything beyond her own sheer willpower, I thought that my problems weren’t big enough. I thought that I didn’t deserve to ask for more than I already had and that I was, honestly, just being a crybaby.

Yet, this state was taking a toll on my academics, my physical health and the way I treated those around me. I would make any excuse to skip class and stay in bed, and I ignored texts with invitations to hang out for weeks on end. Though it was difficult to admit it to myself, I realized that I couldn’t continue in this headspace and needed to make a change, both for myself and for those I care about. So, in spite of the ceaseless self-reproaching thoughts running through my brain, I decided to take a step forward.

I Googled local resources and went back and forth for hours one night, debating whether or not to follow through, but I eventually made an appointment with CAPS. I forced myself not to cancel — though it was tempting — and committed to showing up to the Student Health building to talk about myself as my therapist sat back and listened.

This first appointment began a weekly undertaking, sitting on a plush floor in front of my therapist and staring at the carpet as I explained my feelings. With therapy, I’ve slowly but surely learned more about myself than I ever could have by scrawling down my thoughts in a locked Notes app. I’ve felt more vulnerable, and I’ve also felt more validated, finally able to articulate the inescapable, desolate labyrinth I’ve been racing through in my mind.

Going to therapy has taught me to experience my emotions and give myself grace — to feel awful and sad without the usual guilt that follows. I have grown to identify and address my self-degrading patterns, rather than dismissing them. Through therapy, I’ve found acceptance, openness and care, and not once have my feelings been dismissed as trivial. I’m able to share my feelings with my therapist, and now other people, without feeling like a burden.

But I learned perhaps the most important lesson about mental health before I even arrived at my first appointment. Signing up for CAPS, and taking that first step to seek help, brought more relief than “pushing through” ever did. Whether talking to a friend, a loved one or a professional, it is so necessary, and human, to need more than you can provide for yourself.

Throughout my journey with therapy, I found myself taking steps forward in my social life — letting the people I care about into my life, rather than shutting them out. People care more about us than we can even begin to know, and being authentic with those in my close circle has allowed me to be more at peace with who I am and how I feel.

All of this is to say — while telling people that you’re “fine” might be easier, remember that it’s okay to not be fine, and it’s okay to seek the support of others. Neglecting your true feelings can be harmful to your mental well-being because it delegitimizes your feelings and creates a vicious cycle of negativity. So, be honest with yourself and others about your feelings. And again, remember, the people around you care more than you know.

It’s okay not to be okay. Take the time to be kind to yourself. After all, it’s your first time living.

Counseling and Psychological Services (CAPS):

Daytime phone number: (434) 243-5150

After-hours emergency phone: (434) 972-7004

It’s okay not to be okay

How being vulnerable in therapy has taught me to give myself grace

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