I always have a weird reaction to hearing about a celebrity who is struggling with mental illness. I feel pity and empathy, but I also feel something akin to satisfaction. As I said, its weird, at least on the surface.

The satisfaction is partly due, I think, to the knowledge that Im not alone in my fight with depression. Not that I thought I was, but since we all feel that we “know” celebrities to some extent through media coverage, its more like finding out a friend or acquaintance is dealing with it rather than just seeing impersonal statistics of how many people have depression or another mental illness.

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Every fall I get nostalgic for college. I usually give in to the impulse to sign up for an adult learning class. I think last year it was jewelry making. The year before, we lived in the middle of nowhere, so I took an online course. Now that I’m working at a large university, my college nostalgia is mostly satisfied by just being at work forty hours a week.

Despite my (undiagnosed) depression, I really loved college. I cried for about half an hour after my parents left me at my dorm and went home (I think my mom cried longer). I had never been very good at being away from home and my parents, but for some reason the homesickness didn’t last at college. That night I went out with friends to all the MIT and Boston College fraternity parties, and my college life was off and running.

Judging by what I saw in my dorm, my experience was pretty common. Most of the other women lost their homesickness early on. I remember one woman who didn’t, though; she ended up going home. I felt sorry for her, but I could see how a whole new life was overwhelming for some people.
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