This Campus Mental Crisis
By Robiat Oladele
You scroll through Instagram and see bright smiles, slick dance videos, fancy hangouts, and Twitter bants that leave you laughing. On the surface, it feels like Nigerian youths are living their best lives. But behind the filters, memes, and endless “vibes,” a silent storm brews: anxiety, depression, burnout, identity crises, financial pressure, academic stress. The weight is heavy, but it’s often hidden under the need to look cool and unbothered.
Mental health struggles among Nigerian youth are far more common than they appear, yet rarely addressed. At the University of Ibadan, where some intellectuals quietly battle depression, illusion, and exhaustion, one question lingers: what truly is our healing stone?
The Pressure to Stay “Alright”
From childhood, young Nigerians are taught to “be strong,” to pray it away, or to simply “face their books.” Emotional expression is discouraged, often dismissed as weakness. Now add the stress of surviving in a country weighed down by rising inflation, constant strikes, and bleak job prospects. The average student is caught juggling academics, side hustles, and family expectations. Behind closed doors, many crack under the weight.
A 2022 survey by the Africa Polling Institute revealed that over 55% of Nigerian youth reported experiencing symptoms of anxiety or depression, yet fewer than 20% sought professional help. Similarly, a 2021 UNICEF/Gallup poll found that 1 in 6 young Nigerians aged 15–24 often felt depressed or anxious. Other studies point to a worrying prevalence of depression, anxiety, ADHD, and substance use disorders, fueled by poverty, unemployment, limited access to quality education, and the stigma surrounding mental health.
But what about the ones who do not report? There is a silent pandemic of “alrightness.” People are faking, people are flaking, and people are breaking. On campus, students are slowly fading under the voices in their heads, weighed down by the self-imposed pressure to appear fine. This culture of pretending has cloaked the university like a steamy plague. And it begs the question: what becomes of our mental health in the years ahead if we forget how to truly be alright, and fail to seek real methods of healing?
“Soft Life” and the Social Media Mirage
Social media has become both an escape and a trap. While it is a space for self-expression, it also feeds comparison. Seeing friends travel, succeed, or glow up can make others feel like they’re falling behind. The pressure to maintain a perfect image often worsens mental strain. Platforms like TikTok and Twitter sometimes serve as therapy, with funny skits and relatable content acting as brief relief. But beneath the banter are users silently battling emotional fatigue.
In a conversation with Deronke, a student of the Department of History, she recalled: “I felt like the world was ending in 200 level when I saw my first semester results. I failed so badly, and I didn’t know how to tell my parents. Everywhere I looked online, it seemed like everyone else was doing great, smiling, winning, moving forward. Meanwhile, I was drowning.”
Her experience mirrors that of many students who live double lives, the one they show on their feeds and the one they hide in silence. While likes and retweets may provide fleeting validation, they rarely heal the deeper wounds of self-doubt, academic pressure, and personal struggles.
This duality raises a pressing question: is social media a community or a cage? For some, it offers connection and laughter during lonely nights. For others, it is a constant reminder of what they think they lack. One thing is certain, behind every polished post lies a human being who may be fighting invisible battles.
Academic and Financial Burden
For students, the campus experience isn't always about learning,vibes and growth. For many, it’s survival. Hikes in school fees, ASUU strikes, limited access to mental health services, and overpacked lecture halls only increase the stress.Some work part-time jobs while studying, just to afford data and feeding. The result? Emotional exhaustion. Sleepless nights. And a quiet resentment of a system that demands excellence but provides little support.
Why So Silent?
Mental illness is still heavily stigmatized in Nigeria. In many homes, depression is seen as a spiritual problem or laziness. Conversations about therapy are laughed off. Young people are told to “go to church,” “man up,” or simply be grateful. This silence kills.
Without open conversations or emotional literacy, many students turn to coping mechanisms, some healthy, like journaling, listening to music, or confiding in friends; others harmful, like substance abuse, isolation, or aggression. In the absence of sustainable social support, what options are left for a struggling student?
The Bible asks, “If the foundation is destroyed, what can the righteous do?” For many young people today, that question is no longer rhetorical, it is lived experience.
"Strong stigma, spiritual beliefs, and pressure to appear strong make many young Nigerians hide struggles or avoid professional help for mental health issues" Ajibike Emmanuel Ayanfeoluwa
Nigeria currently has fewer than 250 practicing psychiatrists for a population of over 200 million. That’s a ratio of 1 psychiatrist to nearly 800,000 people. For young people seeking help, this means long waits, expensive private sessions, or no help at all. The University is trying with guidance counselors and awareness campaigns, but the effort is still far from enough. Many students don’t even know these services exist, and those who do may not trust or feel safe using them.
Breaking the Silence
Change is slowly happening. Youth-led mental health advocacy groups like Mentally Aware Nigeria Initiative (MANI), She Writes Woman, Peer support systems and Asido campus network are raising awareness. Social media influencers and artists are beginning to speak up too. But more still needs to be done.
We need conversations in schools, churches, and homes that normalize seeking help. We need much more accessible mental health care, especially on our campus where students face enormous pressure. We need training for lecturers and staff to recognize signs of emotional distress and in turn help them. We need more peer support networks where students can speak freely without judgment. These are not luxuries, they are necessities.
As Chidi, a final-year student, put it “We cannot help ourselves if we keep quiet. I love how people are beginning to advocate for mental health. Our healing is not from music but from helping each other. May we learn to regain ourselves even on the verge of losing it.”
It’s easy to assume that Nigerian youth are “just vibing.” But beneath the cruise lies a generation battling storms of the mind with smiles and silence. If we truly care about the future, we must treat emotional wellness with the same urgency as academic excellence or career growth. Every “LOL” could be a quiet cry for help, every meme a mask for pain. The time has come to look beyond the vibes and start building a culture where healing, honesty, and hope are not luxuries, but necessities.
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