The Can’t Hurt List
One freshman’s experience navigating mental health away from home
By: Stella Mehlhoff
At home, whenever I felt anxious, depressed, or whatever you call it when everything in your mind feels suddenly and direly off, I knew how to get myself back on track. I relied on my parents, my old friends, or distracting myself with obsessive extracurricular involvement, pouring myself into theatre or speech. In other words, I fended off my irregular emotions by delving into established people and activities. Anyone who has struggled with mental illness can understand that finding ways to cope on a day-to-day basis is necessary. But what does that mean for me now that I no longer inhabit the same set of circumstances? Without a routine outlet, where do I go when things get rough?
As a freshman who’s just moved away from home, I know that looking for the answers to these questions is what makes growing up so daunting—especially when dark times take you by surprise. In the whirring excitement of new friends and experiences, it’s easy to take a good thing for granted. But, last week, for reasons I cannot pinpoint, I noticed old demons resurfacing. At first, I panicked, terrified that my newfound independence would mean I was going through this alone. But after a step back, I was able to see that a new environment can also be an opportunity—for me and for others in my boat—to tackle our battles on new terms. So, in the absence of familiar quick fixes, encouraged by supportive friends, I tried out a new approach: reaching out.
I know that sounds terribly cheesy. I, for one, am sick of people offering tidy solutions to messy problems. I acknowledge that sometimes mental health is out of our control and warrants bigger action than the steps I was able to take. I also understand that the mental health resources that are available, especially at the University of Minnesota, can be deeply flawed. They are notably understaffed and underdeveloped—but that doesn’t mean they can’t be useful at all. That being said, last week I did some looking and ended up going to a “Let’s Talk” Counseling Services session at Mondale Hall.
On a Monday morning, I sat across from a woman in a small office. She smiled calmly, pushed tissues across the table, and asked me what I wanted to talk about today. I said, “You mean just get right into it?”
So I told her. I explained what I was dealing with. And she didn’t placate or tell me it was going to go away overnight or hand me a pamphlet about anxiety disorders. Instead, she listened, asked questions, and explained some grounding techniques. She made me feel understood from the moment I walked into the meeting, even when my paranoia had wrapped its cold fingers around my neck. Obviously, one thirty-minute meeting wasn’t going to fix all of my problems or untangle my trauma—but it did get me through the day. And it helped me establish a new standard for myself that will endure into my future: one that involves being open about my concerns, instead of bandaging them for the appearance of being okay.
One thing that I did carry with me across the state is the “can’t hurt list.” The can’t hurt list is something that my mom created, a series of actions to take when you can’t figure out what to do with yourself. The day before I left for college, I wrote it down in the back of my planner so when the world feels upside down, I have a place to look.
Take a shower
Eat a snack
Drink a warm or fizzy beverage
Go outside
Call a friend
Do a yoga video
Take a nap
Distract with that comfort movie/book/song
After my week of exploratory self-care, I can add a few more:
Go to “Let’s Talk” services
Schedule a de-stress check-in
Go to a Monday meditation class at the RecWell
I didn’t find the golden ticket in a week, and I’m still uncomfortable with managing my emotions away from home. But for me, these are the first steps in deciding to use the footholds at my disposal, instead of choosing a dressed-up downward spiral. Taking care of ourselves is brave, and if you’re like me, I hope we can learn to do it in a better way.