Page 2 – MHA

Revisiting COVID-19’s Effects on a College Student’s Mental Health

Posted on July 14, 2020November 16, 2021 by Katie Newman

Up until a couple of weeks ago, I hadn’t thought much about the blog post that I’d written for MHAEM at the end of March. When I reread it, I saw that I’d addressed some things that had truly proven to be legitimate concerns. I didn’t have my favorite cafe to study in when I needed a break from the oppressive silences of the library study rooms. I didn’t have the prospect of hanging out with my school friends at night to motivate me to do work during the day. And quarantine took a toll on my mental health. When the 10-week quarter started at the beginning of April, I felt like I’d been hit with a truckload of responsibility. Coming off of two weeks of a spring break during which I’d done a lot of feeling sorry for myself and absolutely no school work was jarring.

April was a hard month. I was navigating a new academic world, and dealing with the aftermath of leaving so much behind in Washington State, where I’d attended school. I’d begun to feel like I’d created a life for myself there, and it felt like it had been stolen from me. Not only did that make me feel upset and frustrated, I felt guilty for feeling that way. My family was healthy. I was healthy. It felt selfish to wish for anything more than that. But of course I did wish. I’d had plans for spring quarter, to take my first college class in my major, to hike with my friends, to get to know the people I’ll be living with next year, and I lamented the loss of these things tremendously. I tried to tell myself that it was okay, that I deserved to grieve the last part of my freshman year, but watching the state of the world made me feel remorseful about it.

On top of my feelings of confliction and a growing list of online school to-dos, it felt like taking care of myself was a full time job. I was going through a transition period, from school to home, and I know myself well enough at this point to know that times of change have never been easy for me. I’d been through so many in the past year; leaving high school, entering college, and now unexpectedly returning to New Jersey. I felt, and still feel sometimes, trapped in a space of limbo.

I’ve recently taken a step back from my personal thoughts and grievances about the pandemic and it’s allowed me to gain some perspective on what is going on in America. As time and the pandemic have gone on, I’ve observed several states of mind in myself, my friends, and my community as a whole. First there was panic, in knowing that we had to stay inside and go to college online and home school our children and quarantine ourselves from our loved ones. Next there was bargaining. Okay, we know that our lives will be different from here on out. How do we deal with this without feeling like our world is falling apart? This is when people started baking a lot of bread. Following that stage was despair, where people stopped baking bread and started reading more news. Social distancing laws stayed in place and were enforced, and people felt generally hopeless about the future of our country. Now I think we are somewhere called the willful ignorance stage. In the North East, we have seen a decrease in our number of cases (thanks to social distancing, mask wearing, and staying at home) which has led us to believe that the virus is losing momentum, when in reality, we have just been smarter about handling it. We’re coming out of our brief period of quarantine and declaring the pandemic over, simply because we don’t feel like dealing with it anymore.

I, like so many other people, am guilty of believing that life is slowly returning to normal. I’ve expanded my social bubble to my group of close friends, I have planned, and am still planning to return to college in the fall, and I’m not as scared about getting takeout or grocery shopping. It does feel like we are inching towards normalcy, but for all the wrong reasons. Our country is opening up not because it is safe to do so, but because people are bored being inside. Of course, there are some legitimate reasons for beginning to re-open the country, but these re-openings will only lead to a second spike if they aren’t handled properly.

Last week I had a firsthand experience with this improper handling of re-opening procedures. For the past few weeks, my friends and I have been visiting the Jersey shore. We’ve been going to Asbury Park and Ocean Grove, where there was a fair amount of people but if we avoided the boardwalks and stayed towards the back of the beach, we could safely socially distance. On Friday, we decided we wanted a change of scene. One of my friends told me and another friend that Long Branch beach, about 20 minutes north of Asbury, had unlimited beach passes. This was appealing, and it didn’t occur to us that unlimited passes on a sunny Friday in late June could be a red flag. We bought our passes Thursday night and planned to leave the next morning.

As we headed south on the Garden State Parkway, we started to hit more traffic than I’d ever seen on the highway this summer. We eyed each other doubtfully, but decided to stick it out. Arriving at the boardwalk made us regret our decision to make the trip at all. Virtually every shop and restaurant on the ritzy boardwalk was open with a line out the door- a line full of people with neither masks nor any social distance between them. Warily we walked towards the edge of the beach. It seemed that the entire state had gotten the memo about unlimited beach passes, hopped in their cars, and made a beeline to that exact square mile of Long Branch. We stared wide-eyed at the unmasked families, complete with elderly people and toddlers, who had laid out their towels and umbrellas, allowing no more than two feet between them and the next group on the sand. The police officers who lined the boardwalk weren’t wearing masks or enforcing any social distancing rules.

The measly $6.50 beach pass and however much our gas and time was worth, we decided, wasn’t worth getting sick over. We turned around.

I’d seen photos of crowded beaches and restaurants in Florida, Georgia, Texas, all the states that we Northerners had scoffed at, saying that they were re-opening too quickly and recklessly. But in my own state, my liberal, intelligent, Northern state, I thought we would be better. It was so disheartening to see New Jersey let me down. Being at the Long Branch beach and boardwalk made me certain of a coming resurgence of the virus.

Life isn’t returning to normal, it’s simply not. As much as we’d like to think this isn’t the case, the virus is still here, and it will be for a while. We cannot go on pretending that everything is fine. Social distancing and mask wearing is just as important as it was at the beginning of the pandemic, whether people believe it or not. This is a reminder to others and to myself to be careful. Keeping yourself safe and quarantined can save your life, and others’ lives.

I’m scared, not just because of the impending sickness and death that will come with a second wave, but because I’m leaving New Jersey in August. I’m returning to Washington State and living with new people and taking new classes. There is so much uncertainty not just because I am reentering the life I felt I had created for myself at school, but because I know that I’ll be on my own this time. I won’t have my parents to shelter me or keep me company. I tell myself that accepting this uncertainty is just part of becoming an adult, but I should also tell myself, I think, that it’s going to be frightening and strange. And I hope I can be content with that.

I’d like to end this with a quick note: This is a post from late June/early July. I am writing this with the knowledge and perspectives that I have compiled from my experience thus far. If I’ve learned anything throughout this pandemic, it’s that change is bound to happen. So many colleges and universities have made announcements about their intentions for returning to school, only to change them a week later. So this is my truth as of July 8, 2020. I look forward to checking back in a few months, when our world will undoubtedly be different, and with any luck, a bit more hopeful.

Reflections From A College Student Impacted By The Pandemic

Posted on April 4, 2020November 17, 2021 by Katie Newman

As many of us have so eloquently put it to our friends, families, neighbors, and significant others, “This is freaking crazy.” And we’re right. None of us has ever lived through a pandemic before.

Up until about two weeks ago and since August, I lived in Washington State where the first coronavirus case in the U.S. showed up in January, in a town only about a twenty-minute drive from my college campus. When my friends and I heard about this, we washed our hands more often than before, and I sanitized the handles in my bathroom. We shrugged it off because really, what else could we do? We weren’t going to put our lives on hold.

I am writing this from my room in Maplewood, New Jersey. I had planned on coming home for spring break, but I was supposed to go back to Washington on Monday March 30. Instead, I’ll be staying home for the foreseeable future. I learned this about a week ago. This news, combined with having to leave Washington without saying goodbye to my friends, an untimely breakup, being virtually stuck inside my house, and a history of anxiety and depression, has made for a rocky couple of weeks. And I really do have it easy. I have my family, I can go on walks with my friends and my dogs, and I’m healthy. So this complicates my answer when someone asks me, “How are you doing?”

“Well,” I think, “I’m scared and heartbroken and anxious and missing my friends and confused. But I have my family and my health.” So I usually tell them that I’m fine. And the thing is, I have been feeling fine. I mean, not fine as in “fine and dandy” but fine considering the circumstances. I have been reading and baking and walking and biking and sleeping and catching up on TV.

My biggest worry as of now is how I will create a schedule for myself when classes start. While I was at school, I would motivate myself to do my work by moving around a lot and spreading the work throughout the day. I would do one class’ work in one library, eat lunch, go to class, and then go to another library to finish. Moving around and keeping my day busy was how I got stuff done. And now, I won’t have a tight schedule, nor will I have a variety of libraries and cafes in which to work.

A time of lockdown and social distancing is a time where we lose so many parts of our daily lives, so many distractions to which we are so accustomed. And people with mental health disorders thrive on distraction.

So what can we do? The National Alliance on Mental Illness had their fair share of suggestions. “Limit news consumption…Take care of yourself…find distractions…help others” (1). I think these are great suggestions. But I think it’s hard to believe that they will work sometimes, especially when distraction seems impossible when I’m stuck inside all day, and all social media consists of is “COVID, COVID, COVID.”

I particularly liked the advice that Joshua Gordon, director of the National Institute of Mental Health (NIMH), gave in his article entitled “Coping with Coronavirus: Managing Stress, Fear, and Anxiety.”(2) He wrote, “It is important to realize that social distancing does not have to mean social isolation… Connecting with our friends and loved ones… can help us maintain ties during stressful days ahead and will give us strength to weather this difficult passage.”

This has been giving me a lot of hope throughout the past few weeks. I talk to my friends every day.

While I’ve been talking to them, I’ve been checking in on them, especially the ones who I know deal with mental health-related struggles. Shayna, one of my closest friends from high school, goes to college in New York. She’s very open with me and my friends about her struggles with anxiety and depression, so I asked her how she’s doing right now. She told me, “I get really anxious about things that are changing and uncertain, which is why I’ve been… struggling in the past month.” I also reached out to one of my school friends, to see how he’s coping on the opposite side of the country. Rylan lived down the hall from me until a few weeks ago. We talked pretty openly about our mental health struggles while we were at school, so I was curious to see how he’s doing now. “It does suck not seeing any friends or such, but it’s not as bad as it could be. Eventually I feel like cabin fever will probably kick in, especially once school kicks up again.”

My conversations with my friends weren’t hopeless though. Shayna assured me that she’s been keeping herself safe and sane. “[I’m] trying the best I can to distract myself, through social media, reading, television and movies,” she explained. “[I’m] also trying to use humor and creativity as a coping mechanism.”

Rylan spoke to something I could relate to: being lucky to have family and friends that we actually, well, like. “Luckily, unlike others, I actually enjoy my family’s company,” he said. “Talking to people online being the only option outside of my family… I wouldn’t say I feel isolated or anything, especially with my family here and all… [I’m] mostly just making sure to stay occupied and talk to people.”

Most of us have no control in this current situation. And I try to think of this as a blessing. The only thing we can do to help is stay inside and keep our distance. The only thing we can do to help is nothing. And while that’s frustrating and boring, it’s kind of a freeing thought for me.

Sources:
1. https://www.nami.org/Blogs/NAMI-Blog/March-2020/Coronavirus-Mental-Health-Coping-Strategies

2. https://www.nimh.nih.gov/about/director/messages/2020/coping-with-coronavirus-managing-stress-fear-and-anxiety.shtml

Hope

Posted on April 3, 2018December 1, 2021 by MHA

When I contemplated this series, I wanted to start with a story of which I had intimate knowledge. After all, this inaugural entry was going to serve as the pace car for the stories to follow. I wanted a story of hope flourishing from the seemingly hopeless. I wanted to tell a story of finding light in the darkness. Then, it hit me– why not tell a story that I know very well? Why not tell my story?

Throughout my life, I’ve struggled with depression. Now in my early 40’s, I write this to you as an individual who has worked here at MHAEM for almost three years in total, and coming up on two years in my current position. I love my job with every fiber of my being. I used to scoff at those who said “If you love what you do, you’ll never work a day in your life!” I thought it was the dumbest thing I ever heard. I always wondered how people could say such a thing. Alas, I get it now. I worked in Information Technology most of my adult life, and hated every minute of it. So, in many ways, working here at MHAEM has given my life direction. It’s given my life meaning. It’s given me a purpose.

In my time on this planet, I’ve learned humanity is capable of breathtaking beauty and unimaginable horror. However, it’s a fundamental belief of mine that people are inherently good. I also believe that we are at our best when we reach our hand downward to pick up our fellow humans when they fall, and that true strength is knowing enough to reach up and take the hand offering us help. It was a core belief of mine that when push came to shove, humankind would do what was right over what was easy. Without hesitation, I gave myself over, in service to people. I firmly believe that humankind can be more–so much more. I hold these views as a pillar of my existence. They are of the utmost importance to me.

However, at one time, my beliefs were put to the ultimate test.

Without getting into specifics, some current events occurred, give or take 18 months ago, that caused me to instantly find myself in somewhat of an existential crisis. Much of my belief structure was crumbling. I was struggling with the thought that much of what I believed was a lie. I was shaken to my core. Push came down to shove, and people chose to do what was easy–over what was right. My will was broken.

For the days and weeks that followed, I was in the proverbial rut. Living most of my adult life with depression, I knew I was there again. The world seemed as though it was lit in the gray coldness of fluorescent bulbs. A cloud hung over me and everything I looked at. I dragged myself to work over the next couple of days. I grew more and more embittered. I became what I have an anathema for–I became hate-filled. I was angry at people who weren’t as offended as I was. I won’t even mention what I felt about those who were happy with said current events. Life was pointless. I was, in a word, hopeless.

Then, something simple happened–I remembered where I worked.

Part of my responsibility at my job is information and referrals. On this ordinary day, I started it feeling very morose. My symptoms of depression were prevalent. I refer to those days as “valley days” playing off the ‘peaks and valleys’ idiom. Conversely, when I’m in a good mood, it’s a “peak day”. It’s simple. But, it works for me.

I was living many ‘valley’ days of late, and I just wanted to wake from what I described as a nightmare. So, this ordinary day started like any other. Then the phone rang. The woman on the phone was crying. Though, she wasn’t upset–she was grateful. She was grateful because she spoke to Danielle Pera’s PATH team (Projects for Assistance in Transition from Homelessness). This woman was homeless and living out of her car, and this majestic team found her a warm bed for the night, and began the process of removing her off of the streets. This woman, who had fallen on hard times, was unspeakably grateful for their efforts and generosity. The things we take for granted, like a warm bed, meant everything to her.

A few days later, another call. This woman wanted to tell me how wonderful her community companion was, and what it meant to her to have this selfless volunteer in her life. For those who do not know, Community Companions Program is MHAEM’s version of the national Big Brother/Big Sister program. Ordinary, everyday folks do the extraordinary as volunteers. It meant so much to this consumer to be able to get out of the house for a couple of hours a week and go to the movies with her new friend. Yet another thing we take for granted, transportation, meant everything to this kind woman. The ability to get out of the house seems commonplace for you and me…but, it’s not for everyone.

More stories came flooding in over the course of time. Madine Despeine, my program director, outstanding colleague and mentor, along with my surreal colleague and mentor, the incomparable, Tracy Klingener, intervened in a suicidal crisis on our Peer Line, and successfully defused the situation and made sure the consumer received help. Our Peer Line is a warm line, where people can call and speak to someone who has been there. It’s run by mental health consumers for mental health consumers. I heard wonderful success stories about Femitchell Ashley, Craig Monteleone’s and Laurie Licastro’s ICMS teams (Intensive Case Management Services), and the case work that they do. About these determined folks, I heard the expression “They’re life savers!” repeatedly. I heard testimony of Taisia Koeppel’s CSS team (Community Support Services), and what it meant for these folks to have this help as they transitioned out of Greystone. I saw the important work Deanna Ackerman’s AOT (Assisted Outpatient Treatment) team does, getting their clients the help they need. These stories kept coming, as if the universe knew I needed to hear them.

One act of kindness, followed another, followed another.

See, the fallacy is that we ONLY deal in mental health services and case management, which underneath it all, is true. However, overall, it misrepresents us. It doesn’t do us justice. We do those things, yes. But, we, at our heart, deal in hope.

We are merchants of hope.

It was these actions by colleagues and friends; these people I am in awe of and gratefully walk alongside every day. It’s my co-workers and mentors I proudly stand beside, in the proverbial trenches, fighting the good fight with, who began to bring me back to life. These simple acts of kindness I witnessed daily rebuilt me; brick by proverbial brick. It relit the fire inside of me. They helped me to remember who I was and why I gave myself over—in service of others.

I am humbled to say, I am on my way back. I am healing, mending, and less embittered. I am less angry. I remember my purpose here, not just at my job, but on this Earth. As those who battle depression know, that when you are in a valley, it’s a long and arduous road back. However, I know I’ll make it. Because, I’m taking it day by day, with The Mental Health Association of Essex and Morris serving as a lighthouse showing my path back to shore. I’m not on Terra firma quite yet, but I’m hopeful I will be soon.

And that’s the point, isn’t it? My colleagues, MHAEM, enabled me, once more, to hope.

We’re here to listen, talk and help.

We are merchants of hope.