Seen on South Quad.

Seen on North Quad.

"My father grew up going to Notre Dame football games all the time. We've had tickets in the family for over fifty years now. My dad's father had an eighth grade education. The pride of his life was that his son went to Notre Dame. Dad got in, went here, graduated Aerospace. And then he moved to Chicago and got a law degree. My sisters and I came back for literally every home game with Dad. The University was a central part of my father's identity.
"Dad was accepted into Arts and Letters initially, and moved to Engineering, so he graduated in five years. At the end of his fifth year, he wanted to apply to the law school at Notre Dame. He spoke to the dean of the law school, who said, 'Your LSATs look great. Your grades are great. But I think you need to try something else and expand your world beyond this place.' So Dad applied to Northwestern Law, got in, and went there. He would never have done that if anybody outside of Notre Dame had suggested it. But he considered it, and ended up doing it, because he was encouraged by a member of the Notre Dame community.
"When my acceptance letter came in, as Dad's oldest child, he cried. When he applied, this was the only place he ever wanted to go. And he wanted to at least give his children that opportunity. So to see that dream come to fruition was moving for him. Ultimately, all three of his daughters went. And that was a bookend on his relationship with Notre Dame: he fought for it, he went here, and his kids had a chance to do the same.
"He died of a heart attack this past March unexpectedly, running on the treadmill. He long ago got a niche at Cedar Grove and knew he wanted to be buried there. There was nowhere else for him. So our family gathered this weekend, went to the Log Chapel, had a reception in the Oak Room, and went to the football game. This is Dad's home. So this weekend has been about bringing him home."

"My service dog's name is Angel. I didn't have any trouble getting permission for her in my off-campus living; it was permission for classes that was tough. Angel's only been to two so far. I was recently diagnosed on the autism spectrum, among other things. It's a very real disability. When this happened, I talked to my therapist about what to do going forward, and that's when getting a service dog came up. So I adopted Angel in the end of July.
"I've taken a full year off school total, having left for two springs. Although I'm technically in my senior year, it's been difficult, since my friends and support system have graduated. I wasn't sure how I would handle the semester ahead, but Angel has been tremendously important to me in this way. She's in the process of being trained. I need her to complete the tasks I find necessary for my situation--she can help with self-harm issues, or when I'm having a bad day, or to make sure I've eaten a meal. But training classes cost money. My parents refuse to help me take care of Angel financially, and my financial aid was cut this year.
"The most frustrating thing about having gotten Angel is when I introduce her to people who knew me before I got her. They'll tell me I can't take Angel to events because they've seen me at the events without her in the past. Just because someone saw me in the past without Angel, it doesn't mean that I was doing well. Plus, she's a disability dog. You wouldn't tell someone with a more physically visible disability not to take their dog. So it's a slow process of explaining these things to people. But it's worth it. Angel's been worth it."

To donate to Angel's training costs, click here.

Seen on Mod Quad. 

"Even before I came to Notre Dame, I knew that this was something that I wanted to be vocal about. The rippling effects of mental illness are astounding. I don't just sympathize, or feel for people--I empathize. I understand. I understand what it's like to be affected by mental illness, and I understand what it's like to be affected by someone else's struggle with mental illness. Seeing a parent affected by mental illness involves overwhelming emotional stress, overwhelming anxiety, overwhelming uncertainty. And it's difficult, to see someone who is so strong to you suddenly so vulnerable. Because of this, I came from a place where I wasn't expected to be able to accomplish much or go very far.
"It's not so much about understanding human psychology and cognition as it is about understanding what to do, how to act, where to start. It's not just our responsibility to understand; it's our responsibility to walk with others. Because every human being has a unique and beautiful purpose--for some, it's just more difficult than others.
"Acceptance and understanding of mental illness isn't just this week. It's not just today. It's always. Because it's not just a week or a day if you're affected by it; it's daily. So the time to fight stereotypes and perceptions is now. The time is now. It's now."

"Mental illness runs in my family. My grandfather committed suicide when my father was young, but it was taboo in my family to talk about it. Then my brother struggled with depression. It wasn't until he was in a very bad place that the conversational ice finally broke--in order to get him the help he needed. It was frustrating that that was what broke the stigma in my family, but it was a blessing in disguise: when I had mental health struggles in high school, we were able to talk about it and get me the help I needed immediately.
"I often find myself assuming that people have the same understanding of mental illness that I do. It's not a mindset, it's not made up, it's not a 'bad attitude.' These things are hard-wired into us. So that's why I'm vocal about mental illness and its effects. Some incredibly intelligent people are still blinded by the stigma that surrounds it, and it just blows my mind. This is a conversation we need to have now. And the more we talk about it, and the more questions we ask, the better we understand what's going on--and the easier it is for people to get the help they need when they need it."

"My speech for NAMI's 'Our Own Words' event isn't really my story. I have a story, but I don't really go into it too much. Instead, I tried to explain what depression is like to the listeners in a way they could understand. There's a divide between people who have experienced mental illness and those who haven't. Many people will tell you it's just something you can't understand unless you've been through it. And, to an extent, I agree. But that divide and misunderstanding really contributes to the stigma. If you think someone with depression should 'just cheer up,' then there's a misunderstanding. Or if you have one idea of what someone with depression looks like or acts like, there's a misunderstanding. 

"At the end of my speech, there's a somewhat positive spin on things. Depression has taught me a lot: how to enjoy the little things, how to appreciate every day as a new day. But with my depression comes a greater appreciation of happiness--and that's my overall message. Don't get me wrong, mental illness sucks, and it's hard, but it's given me a new outlook and new appreciations that people can relate to, whether or not they have a mental illness."

"I'm the spiritual coordinator for NAMI here on campus. Something I hope to convey with my work is that nobody is completely defined by mental illness. It's a part of you, but it's not all of you. You can still be a goofy person, someone who laughs, someone whose story isn't necessarily a 'sad story.'
"There's a quote from the poet Robert Louis Stevenson that I think applies to not just to those with mental illness but to all students here: 'Don't judge each day by the harvest you reap, but by the seeds you plant.' Some days will be better or worse than others, and that's to be expected. But it's our attitudes towards the little moments that uplift us and keep us going."

"All suicide threats should be taken seriously--but equally seriously. Whether someone's life is perfect or whether they're going through an especially tough event, everyone needs to be taken seriously. Following the suicide of a fellow student, conversations can turn to victim-shaming. They talk about how much the event has hurt the community; they say that the responsibility was on the shoulders of the afflicted person to get help. They can lead us to witch hunts, looking for people who appear to be 'unwell' and cornering them into talking to authority. And a lot of this comes from hearing about mental illness from people who haven't actually experienced it--people who are on the outside.
"That's something that's important to me: to listen to people tell their own stories, and talk about their own experiences, so you know you're not alone. I had difficulty getting help for my bipolar disorder because I was surrounded by people who thought I was just looking for attention, rather than actually suffering. It wasn't until my senior year of high school in my AP psychology course that I realized I wasn't just an attention-seeker. We read through chapters on mental illness, and I said, 'Wait...most people don't feel like this?' An event like that is why we need to hear from people's own experiences and fight the stigma: so that you know you're not alone. So you know that other people have similar issues, are fighting similar battles, and are still leading fulfilling lives."