What If I Had Known?

The first time I went through suicidality training, I almost couldn’t handle it. Student Mental Health Liaisons (SMHL) organizes this training each year to teach the group’s newest members how to recognize signs and symptoms of a person in need, and how to take appropriate action in the worst-case scenario. Most importantly, we learn how to be empathetic listeners in moments of crisis. The training is consequently heavy and difficult to sit through; toward the end of the training, we discuss several “at-risk” phrases that could indicate someone is planning to take their own life. For me, there was a sinking familiarity in these words. I couldn’t help but think, what if I had known?

In February 2012, a friend and teammate of mine committed suicide. He was a talented athlete, an incredibly kind, social person, and just 16 years old when he took his life. Looking back, I wonder—what if I had known his heart-wrenching, unbearable pain? What if I had known how to help him through it? What if I had been able to recognize the signs of his distress?

Of course, suicide is not always preventable. Each case is variable, and suicide is poorly understood scientifically. But there are ways to prevent the people around us from feeling so alone, so desperate, and so afraid of what the future will bring. As someone who has engaged with mental health as a researcher, peer counselor, and peer educator, I try to think carefully of ways to support members of our community who are in pain, and how to foster a culture of empathy. Based on these experiences, I know one thing for certain: In our role as friends, we serve as the first line of defense.

If you are a friend helping a friend, I am writing to tell you that you are not alone. You may not know where to start. You might feel scared to say the wrong thing, or stuck when you approach a friend who feels uncomfortable seeking out professional help. These situations are often difficult to handle; it can be particularly challenging to decide whether or not it is appropriate to notify a tutor or proctor that a fellow student is in distress, especially when a friend’s trust hangs in the balance.

Clearly, no one “correct” solution to such nuanced situations exists. To mitigate some of these concerns, there are six peer-counseling groups on campus that support not only students in need, but also those who find themselves supporting friends. These groups are trained to sift through your options and work together toward a solution, or to simply listen carefully and empathetically to the stresses associated with being there for a friend in pain.

In addition to these indispensable resources, several members of SMHL have developed a workshop over this past year to make reaching out to a friend in need seem less daunting. In the workshop, we discuss barriers to accessing resources that are specific to the Harvard community, and how we can begin to address them. Based on the experiences of the group, we work together to produce a customized “toolkit” of practical tips and suggestions for approaching a friend in distress, and finish the workshop by applying these concepts to realistic practice scenarios. This workshop will be offered to students within the House system next semester, as well as to specific groups that request it.

But these resources and initiatives can only be effective if they are put to use. With the stress of finals period fast approaching, I urge you to reach out early and often, to know whom to call, and to ask for support if necessary. The misconception that reaching out in a time of crisis is indicative of personal weakness is gravely dangerous. By being proactive on behalf of ourselves and our friends, we can reframe this narrative and view help seeking for what it is: A practical, responsible, and admirable alternative to suffering alone. Accordingly, these resources must be and feel accessible to all members of our community; it is our collective responsibility to ensure that this is the case, as the stakes are too high for it to be otherwise.

My personal “what if I had known” demons continue to haunt me. These words sting as I type them, serving as a painful reminder that I could and should have done more to reach out. Selfishly, writing this new SMHL workshop felt like an opportunity for me to fight the “what if I had known” dread; helping others know what I didn’t allows me to silence these thoughts temporarily.

But this relief is only ever temporary. A few weeks ago, when I helped facilitate the same suicidality training with our newest class of SMHL members, those all too familiar five words repeated themselves: What if I had known? I didn’t know, and I can’t change that. All I can do is work to change the narrative for someone else—that maybe my “what if I had known?” can become your “I’m so glad I did.”

Phone numbers for Harvard's mental health resources can be found here.

Stephanie L. Deccy ’17 is a Chemistry concentrator living in Dunster House.