CC Bounces Back
Fear of failure, encountering hardship or facing a challenge are universal feelings. We worry we may not be able to cope or that asking for help will diminish other’s belief in us or belief in ourselves. But we won’t always be perfect. And we won’t always be able to do it on our own. And we may not recognize our strength and ability to bounce back when we falter.
We asked members of our campus community to share a story of an experience of failure or a challenge and how success, learning, or personal growth came through/after that failure. These stories along with data from the 2023 National College Health Assessment highlight and normalize common feelings and experiences of CC students and explore how students can recognize their internal resilience and skills to recover from challenges and combat grind culture.
This project is a collaboration between the Wellness Resource Center, Accessibility Resources and the Advising Hub.
"What do you get from working this hard?"
Manya Whitaker, Interim President
80% of CC students believe they lead a purposeful and meaningful life
In 11th grade, my parents found me fast asleep in the middle of my bedroom floor, surrounded by textbooks, paper, and notes. For me, it was par for the course, but for them, it was the first time they literally saw how hard I was working. They then asked me about school, if I was overwhelmed, stressed, etc. I don't remember what I answered, but I remember how I felt: like a failure.
I'd let my parents see a side of me I kept hidden. Worse, I made them worry, so much so that they immediately had me speak with a psychologist. One question into my therapy session and I burst into tears. I was overwhelmed; I was stressed. And I hadn't even known it because it was my norm.
"But why is it your norm? What do you get from working this hard?" she asked. It was a good question. I didn't feel prouder of myself when I got an A versus a B. I wasn't super excited to tell people I worked at McDonalds on the weekends, was a cheerleader, on the track team, in the IB program, or any of the other myriad things I did. shrug
This moment is likely why I became a developmental educational psychologist with expertise in adolescence. I was fascinated by my 15-year-old self. Why was I doing all of this? It wasn't familial pressure, peer pressure, or anything. And it wasn't about the outcome of straight As or college acceptance or a large friend group. It was about me. About knowing I did my best. About pushing myself to learn more, develop new skills, and explore the unknown. That was fun. That was exciting. That was rewarding.
So, I became an education professor. I wanted to push students to focus on the process rather than the product, especially during a time in their lives when social competition and academic achievement are huge pressures. I wanted to help future teachers create a classroom environment that promotes self-exploration, not external validation. I want people to discover what's fun for them, what makes them excited, what makes them proud, and what makes them happy. What, at the end of a day, determines it was a good day?
I'd found my purpose: to make sure others have what they need to find purpose and meaning. Whatever that is for them.
"Losing them felt like losing a part of myself"
Deka Spears: Assistant Director, Butler Center
71% of CC students say they tend to bounce back after illness, injury, or other hardships
The first half of 2017 was (at the time) one of the most exciting times of my life. I had been accepted into the only graduate program I applied to and was finally scheduled to have top surgery that summer after a year of working through that process. Tragically, just two weeks prior to starting my graduate assistantship and a few days after having top surgery, my grandma passed away. Slowly after that, my grandpa’s health began to decline, and he passed away just a few months later (I spent his last day alive with him and found him the morning after). I would lose two more grandparents during the spring semester.
My grandparents were more like a mom and dad to me than anything else, they raised me and encouraged me to pursue higher education. Losing them felt like losing a part of myself. Through the tragedy, I still excelled in school, using academics as a distraction. Underneath that, I was struggling with depression, anxiety, suicidal ideation and more. Eventually my mental health began to impact my graduate assistantship. I knew I wasn’t meeting my full potential and wasn’t receiving the best support through everything. After my grandpa’s passing over fall break, I returned to work and unfortunately had to resign from my position. At that point, I was still struggling with my mental health and considered leaving my program because I didn’t think I’d ever be successful. I spent two months without an assistantship before one of my professors helped me find new work, which ended up being a research assistant in the department of education. On my first day my new supervisor called me into her office, and I distinctly remember her saying, “I heard about your experience at “x” and I want you to know I believe in your potential”.
I went on to excel in my program and as a research assistant, becoming the lead on several big projects, presenting research at large conferences, and having multiple publications under my belt. More importantly, my new supervisor gave me space to grow as a professional and held space for my grief. Over time I built back up my confidence, I started going to a grief group and built a stronger support system. I am most thankful to that supervisor for creating space and don’t think I would be as successful post-graduation without her leadership.
"How would I get us out of this situation? "
Maybellene Gamboa: Assistant Professor, Organismal Biology & Ecology
74% of CC students agree that they are able to adapt when changes occur
I depressed the gas pedal hoping that if I kept my foot down, then our tires would somehow find traction. Instead, I dug myself deeper into a muddy rut in the Manitou Experimental Forest. I was stuck. I didn’t have cell phone reception. We were isolated. I internally panicked while presenting a façade of confidence to my Ecology students. How would I get us out of this situation?
I was only in my second year of teaching at CC, and I still felt like I needed to prove to myself that I deserved to be here. In my head, as the professor for the course, it was solely my responsibility to find a solution. 
I circled the vehicle and looked at my surroundings. I spotted some miscellaneous pieces of wood by an uninhabited cabin nearby. I asked students to gather some of the wood to try to create a rampfor the tires, but something was still not working. One tire still wasn’t catching. The wheel spun uselessly while negative thoughts started to churn in my mind. I felt like a failure. How was I supposed to be trusted to lead field trips in the future?
I was too blinded by the belief that I alone had to find the solution to recognize that my students weren’t passive bystanders. Rather, they were actively gathering more wood to wedge underneath the problematic tire. Together, they formed a plan to rock the van forward and backward to generate the momentum to get the tire out of the mud and onto the makeshift ramp. It was so simple, and it worked!
We were able to get the van out in a relatively short amount of time when we came together as a community. Yet, it felt like an eternity in my head, because I was dwelling on the misconception that I had to do everything on my own. Self-reliance is beneficial, but no one exists as an island. I’m not sure if my students at the time knew how much the experience impacted me. I reflected on what happened that evening, and I realized I had been in a mental and emotional rut lately, stuck in a cycle of negative self-talk. I was trying desperately to find traction to get out of a depressive episode on my own, but I could only do so much. Shortly after, I started going back to therapy. Thanks to my students for helping me adapt to a challenging situation in more ways than one.
"I gave myself the permission to get the mental healthcare I deserved"
Zac Lounsbury: Assistant Director, Accessibility Resources
84% of Colorado College students would seek help from a mental health professional if they were having a personal problem that was really bothering them.
I had my first panic attack when I was 8. I was in New York City seeing The Rockettes perform when I remember the room caving in on me. I couldn’t breathe, began to cry, my vision blurred. My mom and an usher rushed me outside to catch my breath in the cold city air.
For the next twenty years, panic attacks became a regular part of my life. They hit out of the blue at school, driving to a friend’s house, having lunch on a warm spring day outside the cafeteria at college, on the subway, in the middle of the night. I became great at masking them and simply accepted that they were a part of who I was. Zac has panic attacks.
At 25, I was back in New York City training to become a teacher. One day I had to leave the classroom after nearly passing out from panic. My body swirled with nausea, cold sweat, and terror for 24 hours. I found myself standing outside of an emergency room speaking with a crisis counselor wondering if it was time to get admitted. I needed help. I had needed help for years. After recapping this close call with those I love, a decision was made to see a doctor and start treatment. It took around three weeks for my plan to start having positive impacts. Three weeks of treatment to address twenty years of panic. Though I still have the occasional intrusive thought and my legs bounce up and down nonstop, I haven’t had a panic attack in 6 years.
The only thing that changed after I gave myself permission to get the mental healthcare that I deserved was that I no longer had panic attacks. Not a single one. I was still the same Zac, nothing changed, except that this Zac no longer had panic attacks.
I only wish that I had known and believed two things sooner: that sharing my mental health concerns with those I love would be met with such kindness, generosity, and willingness to help; and that there are thoughtful, caring, affordable, and motivated mental health providers who are truly committed to finding solutions.
National College Health Association (NCHA) III Spring 2023, n=152
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Last updated: 01/24/2025