David still remembers the first day of college. His parents had driven him and an SUV full of belongings to the leafy New England campus, his mom worried that the sheets they bought wouldn’t fit on the bed, his dad told him to not have too much fun, and then David watched as they drove away. Alone in his dorm room, he was acutely aware of being on the cusp of adulthood, full of possibility. But in the coming months, he found himself falling deeper and deeper into the darkness of depression. Instead of going to class, he would watch Netflix for hours. When his newfound friends would ask him to hang out he came up with excuses to avoid leaving his room. On the occasions he did go out, his primary motive was to drink himself into oblivion to momentarily escape from the perpetual emptiness in his mind. “It was easy to hide what was really going on,” he says, “No one was monitoring me, no one there knew me well enough to see how bad things were.” It wasn’t until he went home for winter break and spent the whole time in bed that his parents grew concerned and found the resources he needed for treatment. “I wish I had gotten help earlier. I lost a year of school basically just being sick and then trying to get better. But I needed that time to get healthy and learn how to function. It gave me a fresh start.”
College is often mythologized as the best years of your life. The years you spend in pursuit of higher education should be a time of intellectual and social exploration, a time to discover yourself and the world around you, and a time to enjoy your first taste of freedom. But too often and increasingly, college becomes the backdrop against which mental health disorders emerge.



