In less than two weeks, I will put on my cap and gown, walk across a stage and receive my diploma. My extended family will be there, some from out of state. Afterward, the people who love me will gather at my parents’ house for cake and sandwiches and to congratulate me on the greatest achievement of my life so far.

This week, I also celebrated a life event that, to me, is nearly as important: I graduated from Dialectical Behavioral Therapy after a year and a half in the program. This was a much more private celebration; my boyfriend surprised me with a balloon and cake, and we ate chicken wings while watching my favorite TV show. No family was there, I didn’t pose for any photos and I didn’t post about it on Facebook.

I’ve dealt with anxiety for as long as I can remember and began therapy for the first time when I was in the fourth grade. I was officially diagnosed with a generalized anxiety disorder in 2007 and tried a number of different kinds of medication and therapy between then and December of 2014, when I began DBT.

DBT is a form of therapy originally developed to treat people with Borderline Personality Disorder. Since then, it has evolved and is now used to treat depression, anxiety, PTSD, addiction and other forms of mental illness. Participants attend both group and individual therapy and focus on learning skills to regulate their emotions. It typically takes a year.

To me, the fact that I have graduated from DBT and that I’m about to graduate from college feels like nothing short of a miracle. Higher education has been a struggle, from the first day to the last week. I’ve dealt with periods of intense anxiety and nearly overwhelming depression and still had to remain engaged and productive, even when it feels nearly impossible to do something as simple as leave my bed.

I’m far from the only person struggling with anxiety and depression during college. According to the American College Health Association’s 2014 National College Health Assessment survey, nearly one in six college students had been diagnosed with or treated for anxiety.

College can be deeply challenging for people dealing with mental illness. It necessitates an immense amount of effort, which can be overwhelming for someone with depression, and it requires an openness to change and growth that may terrify someone with anxiety.

There is also a reluctance among those with mental illness to talk about what they are going through. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, “Only 25 percent of adults with mental health symptoms believed that people are caring and sympathetic to persons with mental illness.” This is something I have struggled with first hand.

Last fall, I went through a major period of depression. Keeping my head above the academic waters felt impossible when I could barely eat or sleep, and could rarely go a day without a full-fledged panic attack. Still, I did not want to ask my friends and co-workers for help because I felt I would have to explain both my history of mental illness and the event that prompted the depressive episode, something that continues to be deeply personal and painful despite the fact that I am, so to speak, out of the woods.

Eventually, though, I recognized that I needed care and sympathy, and the help and understanding I received from my friends and family was instrumental to my recovery. I know that some of my success can be credited to my own stubbornness, resilience and hard work, but I wouldn’t be preparing to walk across that stage if it wasn’t for the people who stuck with me through the ups and downs.

It’s likely that everyone reading this knows someone with mental illness. It’s also likely that everyone can do something to help. You don’t have to be a trained therapist; a friend of mine who constantly talks about how uncomfortable he is with feelings is one of the people whose help and understanding I’m most grateful for. He didn’t do anything fancy, but he listened to me without judgment and kept me company through one of the hardest points of my life.

It doesn’t take much to learn how to help your friends with mental illness. My boyfriend had never had personal experience with anxiety disorders before we met, but he took the time to educate himself and, when I’m deep into a panic attack and he’s not sure how to help, he simply asks me what I need.

I’m about to leave St. Thomas and go out into the big, scary, anxiety-inducing world without professors or therapists to guide me. The best advice I can give, both to those dealing with mental illness and those who have dodged that particular bullet is this: It doesn’t take much to show someone that they’re not alone. When someone you care about feels like they can’t last another day, simply asking, “What can I do?” can work wonders.

Grace Pastoor can be reached at past6138@stthomas.edu.