It's not just you.

How my first semester in law school made the need to better address mental health clear.

When you’re struggling with mental illness, advice tends to feel straightforward and clear: keep it behind closed doors.

This has remained true for me in a number of different steps. From college to my pre-law school career, to law school applications and the search for summer internships, it felt clear that mental health was a subject beyond the acceptable scope of disclosure.

I disagree.

When I was in middle school, I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. It turns out the diagnosis was flawed - while depression was observed accurately, the anxiety was masking a relatively severe case of OCD.

Depression and OCD both tend to be greatly misunderstood. There were days when, even if I did it, getting out of bed felt like an insurmountable and unbearable challenge. OCD is often referenced flippantly (“I like things to be perfectly straight and neat, I’m so OCD”) but has a far more sinister reality. OCD is a diverse disorder that affects every individual differently - for me, I am clouded with constant, near paralyzing fear of every outcome I can possibly picture.

Over the years I learned to better control my mental health; or rather, to not let it control me. I graduated Summa Cum Laude from college, built myself a relatively successful career, and eventually received a call that I had been admitted to Cornell Law. Soon after that, I joined the firm McDermott Will & Schulte as an SEO Fellow - effectively serving as a pre-law summer associate.

During my time there, a partner at McDermott took time to disclose his own struggles with mental health to the entire summer class, and encouraged us to seek a support system if we were dealing with any similar issues. I greatly appreciated his candor and openness. Firms and law schools have worked to increase awareness around mental health, a necessary move as an outsized percentage of lawyers have reported struggling with mental health issues and suicidal thoughts. A nearly-unsolvable problem exists in these attempts, however. Those who felt secure enough in their careers to disclose mental health struggles and encourage others to seek out help are just that - secure in their careers. Those of us still starting out, and attorneys on the bottom rungs of the career ladder do not necessarily have the peer support to open up about their own mental health journeys.

I arrived at Cornell Law School feeling extremely optimistic. I had just completed an excellent experience at McDermott, made new friends and connections, and had my mental health pretty squarely under control. I was confident that I could keep myself in a good place and succeed in my first semester.

In early October, things took a turn for the worse. Multiple stressful events occurred in my personal life at once that took my attention away from school. I felt doubt, amplified by OCD, creeping back in. Before I knew it, I was in a severe spiral.

My friends started to quietly notice. I stopped engaging with people outside of what was strictly necessary. As one of two 1L class representatives, I did everything I could to stay engaged, but in my personal life, I had little desire to do much more than sleep. Eating became increasingly difficult, and suddenly I barely had any energy to do much more than attend class and do assigned readings.

Slowly, the spiral deepened. Class time became torturous - I struggled to focus and my thoughts drifted to dark places that worsened the cycle. Keeping up consistent attendance became an everyday battle (though one I thankfully won,) and by the time I had to work on my open memo, it felt like my main priority had to be survival.

In the lead up to finals, I made a change. The stigma around mental health had convinced me that admitting my struggles would be a weakness - that no firm, no client would want an attorney who had a history of mental illness or who had to be medicated. Reason eventually prevailed. I went to therapy, and began taking medication to lift some of the burden.

The change has been gradual. Unfortunately, I dealt with side effects to my medicine, and spent the finals period feeling tired, nauseous, and often like I was operating through a fog. My grades ended up being…okay. Not where I wanted them to be by a long shot, but far from a risk of dismissal or an unrecoverable GPA. Still, I had forced myself to operate under a severe handicap, and it showed.

The side effects have since stabilized, and with therapy in the mix, I’ve seen gradual, steady improvement. I’m in a better position for the second semester and moving forward. I wondered, however, how many of my classmates, how many of my colleagues, were burying their own mental health issues out of lack of access to treatment or fear of being somehow blacklisted in BigLaw or beyond.

So let me tell you this clearly: it’s not just you.

My name is Skyler Johnson. I’m a 1L at Cornell, a former SEO fellow, a nonprofit board member, and a former Director of Development. And I have OCD and depression. I function, and I produce good work. But in my darkest moments, I needed to know more than anything that I wasn't alone. I had friends to confide in, and a support system that stopped me from collapsing completely. But I delayed righting the ship out of fear of my own self-image. And I know I’m not the only one.

I’m not asking you to write an article or stand in front of your classmates and declare your own struggles. But I am asking you to work towards destigmatizing mental illness. Be a support for your classmates. Share what you feel comfortable with. Make an effort to understand the invisible illnesses that may be wreaking havoc on the lives of your friends. If you’re in a position of power, at a law school or a law firm, proactively check on those junior to you to make sure that they are coping with their lives and workload well.

I won’t wait until I’m a partner at a firm to push for mental health access. I’m proud to tell my story, and if even one person reads this and in it finds inspiration to talk to a friend, loved one, or therapist, it will have been completely and unequivocally worth it.

If you’re feeling unsafe or overwhelmed right now, support is available 24/7. In the U.S., call or text 988 to reach the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline, or chat at 988lifeline.org. If you’re in immediate danger, call 911.