Supporting a Friend through Mental Health Challenges

I hold her steadily on my shoulder. A split second later she arches her back, slipping out of my grasp and stumbling away. I desperately grab her arm, but am no match against the allure of the red silks billowing behind us. I watch helplessly as she gravitates toward them, entangling herself until she is suspended like a marionette, unable to escape.

While I danced this scene on stage junior year, it was nearly identical to one I actually lived through. No technique or amount of rehearsal could have prepared me for what was to come.

It was November when I noticed Alex slipping away. Meeting her in the hallway during finals week, I felt panic wash over me as I realized my friend, a once diligent student, was high and “joking” about death. I lost my grip on her hand as she called over her shoulder, “I’m fine, don’t worry!”

But I couldn’t bring myself to believe her: I tried sending her self-help resources, but she reassured me that they were unnecessary. While studying, the pit of my stomach screamed at me to do something, but my mind had doubts. Maybe she didn’t need my help; she certainly didn’t seem to want it at the moment.

A few weeks later, though, I felt blindsided by the message I received before school: Alex had attempted suicide. Visions of life without her raced through my mind. Would I ever perform with her again? Hear her contagious laugh? Sitting in class felt pointless when guilt, frustration, and sadness consumed me.

I realized the only way I could re-establish balance between my school and personal life would be with help from my dance community, since we all knew and loved Alex. By coincidence, we were performing a piece about addiction, and I was playing the role of a concerned friend. Every embrace towards the “addict” made me feel connected to Alex while also forcing me to confront my anxiety around helping her. My castmates encouraged me to embody my onstage character in real life: to be a dependable friend while establishing boundaries and working to take care of myself.

With this support, I transformed my feelings of frustration into a desire to learn more about addiction, which helped me better understand Alex. I chose to research the War on Drugs during my spring term of History 11, writing about the lack of treatment and aid available to addicts. I spent countless hours watching YouTube documentaries and reading about the opioid crisis in America. While discussing my paper, a friend mentioned her mother’s job working with patients who’d developed infections such as HIV/AIDS. Seeing Alex struggle with addiction made me realize that no one is exempt from the terrible effects of drugs, and I now intend to specialize my interest in medicine on infectious diseases.

I grew up learning to watch for the warning signs of a troubled friend: reckless behavior, detachment, expressing thoughts of self-harm. How was it that when all these things were staring me in the face, I’d failed to act? My duty as a friend is to be mindful and speak up in times of concern, but also love myself and respect boundaries to find balance. I now strive to destigmatize mental health, and I am self-aware and communicate openly when feeling overwhelmed.

As the lights slowly dim, I untangle the addict from the red fabric and she collapses over my shoulder, clutching onto me while I drag her off stage, pieces of silk still trailing from her legs. Alex’s experience will follow her in the same way, but she is well on the road to recovery. I, too, will always carry it with me. It will serve as a constant reminder to take a compassionate stance towards people struggling and towards myself, freeing ourselves from whatever ties may bind us.