Building a Mental Health Plan Without Losing Your Mind

The fall semester always begins with a strange sort of optimism, like we’ve been granted the blessing of a fresh start simply because the calendar flipped pages, and our professors have uploaded yet another extremely detailed or vague syllabus.

The air in September smells like student ambition, with the optimistic feeling of possibility, like maybe this will be the term we finally master balance, drink water that isn’t caffeinated, and stop calling granola bars breakfast. The first week is always intoxicating: highlighters lined up, planners filled with color-coded promises, and that sacred lie we whisper to ourselves: This time, I’m going to stay ahead of the readings. 

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But somewhere between the third week and midterms, the optimism crumbles. The glow of potential dims under Stauffer’s lights, and we remember the deadlines colliding like bumper cars, lectures that stretch longer than our attention spans, and the slow creep of burnout disguised as “just being tired.”

And here’s the thing: no one teaches you how to care for your brain with the same seriousness as they teach you how to format a research paper. It’s interesting how we’re told to chase excellence but are rarely ever told to chase rest. 

That’s where a mental health plan comes in. And by ‘plan,’ I don't mean a dry checklist or some Pinterest-perfect routine, but an agreement with yourself. A love letter to your own future. A reminder that your brain is not a machine built to churn out essays like a factory.  

Step One: Forecast Your Storms -
Every brain has its own weather patterns. Maybe yours brews hurricanes of anxiety whenever exam seasons loom. Maybe it hosts long droughts of motivation where even brushing your teeth feels like an impossible chore. Maybe it floods with comparison every time you scroll Instagram and see classmates who look like they’ve solved the riddle of existence while you’re eating Kraft Dinner in pajama pants (We’ve all been there, and it’s valid!). 

Knowing your storms doesn’t make them vanish, but it can make you the kind of sailor who keeps rain boots ready by the door, and makes big waves feel like small rifts. Awareness is its own kind of anchor. 

Step Two: Stock Your Lifeboat - 
What gets you through? Truly through? Not what looks healthy on TikTok, but what actually works for you? 

Your toolkit should be shamelessly personal: long walks when your brain feels static, blasting your favorite song in the shower when sadness lingers, calling that one friend who somehow always reminds you you’re not failing at life. And yes, Queen’s has counselling services, peer support, and wellness programs: use them! A lifeboat is no less valid because someone else helped you build it. 

Step Three: Build Boundaries Like Fences - The myth of the “perfect student” is as dangerous as it is exhausting. You do not need to attend every event, answer every text, or pretend you have energy when you don’t. 

Boundaries are not walls to keep people out, rather, they’re fences that keep your energy in. They’re the small but important “no’s” that make room for your bigger “yes’.” Saying no to a Friday night out might mean saying yes to your sanity. Saying no to another club meeting might mean saying yes to actual sleep. Your GPA will not thank you for martyring your body, but it will thank you for showing up with a brain that still works. 

Step Four: Treat Yourself Like a Person - There will be days when the plan crumbles. Days when readings stack up and your coping strategy is eating popcorn in bed while pretending the outside world doesn’t exist.  Perfection is the cruelest fiction, the siren song of comparison culture. You don’t need to be endlessly motivated, endlessly productive, endlessly on. You need to be alive, and being alive is messy, ordinary, and even miraculous work.  

The Bigger Picture
- The truth is, a mental health plan isn’t about controlling every outcome. It’s about compassion in advance. It’s giving yourself the grace you so easily give to others. It’s about reminding yourself, again and again, that university is not a sprint to the finish line, but a marathon where the finish line isn’t just grades, but personal growth. It’s friendships. It’s the tiny moments between stress: laughing in the library at 1 a.m., discovering a new coffee spot, feeling proud when you hand in something you thought you couldn’t possibly finish. 

So yes, sharpen your pencils, open your laptops, and buckle up for the semester. But more than that, write yourself into the story as someone worth caring for. Build a plan that can be there for you when you stumble. Because the most important project this semester is not your essays or exams. It’s you.