Editor’s note: This article first appeared on BuzzFeed Community and was then submitted by the author and adopted for publication in The Badger Herald. 

For many college students, the semester abroad is an eagerly awaited right-of-passage, and I was no exception. I looked forward to my junior year and scoured programs in faraway countries, dreaming of walking down cobblestones streets in a scarf, inspiring poets like a Grace Kelly doppelgänger. I did have a truly great time, I realize how truly lucky I was to have this experience that so many people are unable to have. I learned a lot about myself and will look fondly back on these experiences.

However, I am concerned that schools, study programs or Internet communities are not adequately addressing many issues. I am worried that there are more people who are not voicing problems or challenges they faced abroad. In particular, I found that my program was ill-equipped to deal with the resurgence of my mental illness. This is not meant to be a message discouraging anyone from studying abroad; just the opposite, I hope that perhaps by voicing my own experience, people will be better equipped to travel.

Last semester I studied in Prague, Czech Republic, and it was one of the most amazing experiences of my young life. It was also one of the hardest. I was mentally prepared for the usual things listed in the program’s guide book: jetlag, culture shock, the notorious Czech “hospitality” (or lack-thereof) and possible challenges I might face as a vegetarian in a mostly meat-and-potatoes country. However, I was not prepared for perhaps the most debilitating bout of depression I have experienced.

I had been warned, not by anyone in my college’s study abroad office or my specific program, just a friend during a casual conversation, that mental illness can become exacerbated by the stresses of living abroad. This information somewhat surprised me, and I tucked it away as something not to be necessarily worried by. How could I be depressed living in a beautiful city with the rest of Europe just a train ride away?

Unfortunately, mental illness is still something that is largely taboo in our society. I am still cautioned by my well-meaning parents not to widely disclose my anxiety and depression, for fear of being perceived as “crazy” or denied certain opportunities. So perhaps this stigma is why I received so little information about what I might face as a person with a mental illness abroad. The program handbook just mentioned bringing at least six months’ supply of any medications I was taking, so this is what I predominately talked to my doctor about. We vaguely discussed what might happen should I become depressed or anxious, but because I was so convinced that this would not happen to me (because how could it?) I never really pursued the matter.

I realize now I was woefully unprepared.

I was unprepared for a loneliness that crushed my windpipe and left me gasping, even when I was in a room full of people. I was unprepared for the complete fog that squeezed my brain and made it impossible to carry on a substantial conversation. I went on my first date ever with a French man (!) and was so depressed I couldn’t name one thing I was interested in (there was not a second date). I couldn’t open my mouth for fear I might start crying hysterically. I had looked forward to my classes because they seemed so interesting (and I am a huge nerd), but suddenly I couldn’t be bothered with them. I just wanted to curl up and sleep. I was not homesick; I did not want to go home, but I also couldn’t fathom staying where I was another minute.

I tried telling the program coordinator what I was going through and how it might be hard for me to go to class; I could barely get out of bed. She was a very nice lady, and she really did care about the students in her program, but she just blinked and replied, “OK, but you really should try to get to class; you can only miss two before your grade is lowered.”

I didn’t fully express what I felt to anyone until about a month-and-a-half in, until it all became too much to bear. I sent an email to the friend detailing exactly what I was feeling. Her response was the turning point. She encouraged me to tell my parents what was going on, and I did. She told me exactly what I needed to hear and gave me the tools to change my situation.

Once I finally started opening up to people back home, it became easier for me to connect with people in Prague. I started to demand that the program take my problems seriously and see that what they were expecting of me was not reasonable in my present state.

However, this is not to say it was smooth sailing from then on. The program recommended some therapists to talk to in Prague. Unfortunately the mental illness treatment in the Czech Republic is still deeply rooted in psychoanalysis (think Freud), which I was not able to feel comfortable with. I got the sense that my program simply did not know what to do with me. Additionally, my depression did not fully abate. My grades suffered because school remained a constant source of anxiety.

However, I found people I truly connected with. I finally started having fun and truly appreciating where I was. I started traveling and meeting new people. Because some of my best friends were locals and adventurous Americans, I experienced a side of Prague that not many tourists (even long-term ones) get to see. It is thanks to them and the support I received from back home that I can confidently say that I had a great experience.

I am still dealing with my depression now that I am home, because a “cure” is a complicated process that I am still figuring out with the help of my doctors, family and friends.

SO:

If you have a mental illness, whatever it may be, and you want to study abroad, I want you to do so. I just want you to be prepared.

Don’t assume that your program will provide you with the necessary information. My program was very structured and still I found myself searching for answers. Ask as many questions as you can, even if you think they may be totally irrelevant. Never apologize for demanding information that will fully prepare you and keep you safe.

Talk to as many people as possible. Your school’s study abroad office, the program coordinator, any health providers on your campus, especially mental health.

Consult with your doctor. A lot. Get a plan prepared. If you see a therapist on a regular basis, see if it is possible to Skype, or see if your program has people they can recommend.

Demand that your program and school have tools and plans to help you should your illness resurge. Other students may be dealing with the same issues, so it can only do good.

Know that it is okay to ask for help. I cannot stress this enough. Tell your family and friends back home what you are going through, ask them for advice. Know that you have people who love and support you and want you to have the best experience possible.

It’s OK to go home. You do NOT ever need to justify making a decision that will keep you safe. This does not make you any less “adventurous” or “worldly;” in fact, it only shows how brave you are. If your university or program makes it hard for you to do so, do not back down.

Don’t assume that there is a certain experience you should be having. There is not. Unfortunately, you can’t leave any problems you have with mental illness back home. But you can make sure they won’t stop you from experiencing the growth and wonder that studying abroad can provide.

Studying abroad is amazing, so you should do it; just do it in the absolute best way possible.

Sarah Healy ([email protected]) is a junior majoring in history.