My first work study job in college was in 2002 as the secretary of the counseling office in a small Christian liberal arts college, smack dab in the middle of what we call the “Bible Belt” in the United States. Even though May was designated Mental Health Awareness month in 1949, there was still a stigma in my circles in high school (and certainly in the churches I attended) that counseling was only for people with extreme needs. When I was a teenager, mental health was rarely discussed and if any of my friends went to therapy, we didn’t talk about it freely. In the church circles especially, struggles with mental health meant you should probably pray more, or an evil spirit was trying to torture you.
One of my first duties in the campus counseling office was to clear out old files from the closets and reorganize the space. The college counselor was new to her role and all of the previous counselor’s files had to be shredded. I was hired for my discretion and organizational skills, but after hours of sitting in front of a small office machine, shredding ten years of counseling session files of students who had long since left the campus, I couldn’t help but read a few lines as they disappeared into the teeth of the shredder. Boredom and curiosity won over my resolve to not be nosy, but the small sections I read here and there were surprisingly relatable. An issue between friends, anger towards a parent, struggling with feelings of loneliness, sadness, or inadequacy. I was surprised to find my own story scattered throughout the various snippets my eye caught as I shredded page after page for hours.
The counselor was a young and vibrant woman who was passionate about destigmatizing mental health services to the population who were disproportionately from backgrounds similar to mine and therefore, skeptical of counseling. After working with her for a few months, I remember having a conversation with my RA and a friend in our large dorm bathroom. I was telling them how much I was learning, “Counseling is not just for when you have major problems or trauma! Sometimes you just need to talk to someone who is not in your family or friend circle, who is bound to secrecy except in dangerous situations, and who can offer an outside perspective!” I remember feeling excited about sharing my newfound revelation, and that my friends were listening intently, asking questions. It turned out a few months later that I had changed their minds too. Both of them told me separately that they decided to start meeting with the counselor regularly to work through situations in their lives. It surprised me that I had been instrumental in their choice, when I was only relating my own change of mind about mental health services, not trying to convince them to seek help.
During my year working in the counseling office, the historically conservative school faced upheaval from a performance of The Vagina Monologues and a change on campus towards advocating for LGBTQ+ rights and protections in the language of the Student Bill of Rights. At the same time, for the first time in my life, I attended a church with a woman pastor. Thanks to the counselor of that school and my time working in the office, I learned the importance of understanding people’s stories and of sharing your story with a trusted listener. In the office, I saw first-hand how important counseling spaces were for those who needed a safe space, but also for educating people in empathy. In order to combat the ill-informed audience who would have a knee-jerk reaction to the title of The Vagina Monologues, she taught me to research the author’s intent behind the creation of the work and read the script for myself so that I would understand that it was shining a light on experiences of women like me all around the world. The school would eventually break from its conservative denomination’s ties (as would I), but remains an institution grounded in the exploration of faith and culture and has continued to expand its diversity and inclusion programs. It was only the beginning, but that work study job was the impetus for my own mental health journey.
FRAGILE HUMAN 