I love the Golden Gate Bridge.

There are times when I catch myself daydreaming about a cool, foggy morning in San Francisco. As the fog breaks and the sun creeps out from behind the clouds, I can see the Golden Gate Bridge emerge from the morning mist. That beautiful, bright orange frame shines in the sunlight, and “August and Everything After” starts playing in my head. The weather is perfect, the view is beautiful, and I am happy.

And in an instant that dream is gone.

Suddenly I realize that I’ve never been to San Francisco. I’ve never even been to California. Reality sets in, and I convince myself that the dream in my head doesn’t exist. It can’t exist. Nothing could be that idyllic. I start to think about how San Francisco is just another metropolitan area teeming with people, no different than Minneapolis or Chicago. The location won’t change anything. All my current problems would just follow me there.

But it doesn’t stop there. I keep thinking about that bridge, and suddenly the frame doesn’t look like a bright, stunning orange but rather a faded, aging rust. It looks like a dying structure, and now all I can think about is death and the thousands of people who have ended their lives by jumping from that bridge.

This is what it’s like living with depression.

That entire thought process – going from a perfect afternoon in San Francisco to the unshakeable thought of suicide – happens in seconds. Maybe even a fraction of a second at times. And even when I manage to hold onto that daydream for a few seconds – perhaps even a minute or two – the fear of those thoughts going south at a moment’s notice never goes away. Knowing that, at any moment, every positive thought in your head could suddenly collapse into chaos is almost worse than when it inevitably happens.

And, relatively speaking, my depression isn’t even that bad.

According to the National Institute of Mental Health, 30 percent of college students experience serious depression over the course of their college career. Millions of teens and young adults suffer from depression, and many of those people never seek help. It gets even worse in the Upper Midwest when there’s little daylight and the winters are long. It’s harder still when you feel like you have nowhere to turn or no one to talk to when things start to get really bad.

This week is Suicide Prevention Week, which serves as perhaps the strongest foundation to start the conversation about suicide and mental health. Suicide is the third leading cause of death in teens and young adults aged 15 to 24. Many of those victims turn to suicide because they don’t feel like they have any other options or anyone to talk to.

The stigma surrounding depression and mental health is perhaps the biggest obstacle health care providers face when trying to treat diseases. Many people never talk to anyone about their mental health concerns because they don’t want to appear soft or weak. They don’t want to complain or burden others. Sometimes people feel like they’re just overreacting to small problems, and they need to “man up” or “grow up.”

I feel sad or depressed most days when I have absolutely no reason to. I’m a good student, I go to a good school, and I have an amazing family. I’ve never been abused, and I’ve never had to deal with the sudden, traumatic loss of a loved one. I don’t have any discernable “triggers” that would ever suggest I should feel the way I do. But that’s what makes me feel worse. How can I complain about feeling sad when there are people out there with “real” problems?

That’s the type of stigma we need to combat by talking about depression, suicide and mental health. That’s the type of stigma that kept me from seeking help for years and continues to keep countless others from seeking help for their depression.

But there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Some days are brighter than others, and some days that light is harder to see, but it’s still there. It took me a while to focus on my light and finally move forward, but things are better now. I found help for myself, and I’ve established a strong support network of friends and family. There are countless resources out there for you that will help you. Talk to your doctor. Set up an appointment at Health Services or Counseling and Psychological Services. It might seem difficult, but you can find a way out of the darkness, and I can guarantee you that there’s someone out there who will help walk you through it. Hell, I’ll walk you through it if you can’t find someone who will.

With one-third of college students experiencing serious depression at some point, you probably have a friend fighting depression whether you know it or not. And you probably never will know unless you offer to talk about it. You don’t have to pry into your friends’ lives and interrogate them about their problems. Just say, “Hey, I know you’re going through a tough time right now, and I’m here to help if you need it.” Maybe refer them to Counseling Services here on campus. You can’t talk about mental health and begin to help if you don’t start the conversation.

Jacob Sevening can be reached at seve8586@stthomas.edu.