I am sitting on a fuzzy pink pillow in the apartment of my trainer, Dua, and I am about to share my whole life story from beginning to end with a group of five strangers.
When I joined A Place To Talk (APTT) at Hopkins during the fall of my sophomore year, I did so because mental health is one of the most sacred things in my universe, and because I wanted to learn skills that would help my community feel more heard and supported, combatting the loneliness and fear and imposter syndrome that can be so ubiquitous in college. I was expecting that training would prepare me to be an effective peer listener during my weekly two hour shifts, which it did, but I was not expecting training to touch every part of my life so profoundly.
Training for APTT is split into 10 weeks, and during each week, trainees learn a new skill during our “large group” meetings. After reviewing this skill, we split up into groups of about four trainees led by two trainers for “small group,” where we apply the new skills with our peers-slash-new-best-friends by getting together, playing games, eating snacks and listening to one another. When I was training, I would get back to my dorm room, often at one in the morning, but with the overwhelming sense that whatever I had just participated in was so incredibly special. This year, I have the opportunity to be a trainer for new members of APTT, and every week it brings back memories of the magic I felt joining just last fall. Time to brush up on some of my favorite skills!
1. Non-verbals and silences
A lull in conversation is no longer one of my biggest fears. If a friend needs to talk, to unload any big emotions they have been feeling during a busy week or unpack a problem that they don’t know how to navigate, I now know how to use silence to sit with them in their feelings, allowing their words to breathe and take up space. I have learned how a small “mhm” or “that makes sense” can often be more powerful than a “one-size-fits-all” solution to their problems, and that the awkwardness I feel during quiet is not necessarily a gap I must feel pressure to fill, but rather a calm I have the power to sit with.
2. Open-ended questions
Imagine you get a bad grade on your assignment, and in a low moment, call your parents for some good ole love and support. After you spill to them the disappointment and fear that this feedback has brought up, they hit you with, “Well, have you tried talking to your professor?” (We all know this means, “You should absolutely talk to your professor; we are your parents, and we are always right.”)
The weight of questions like this one teaches us that questions that are close-ended, that demand a yes-or-no answer, often carry the connotation of “you should.” They can feel more like judgement than support, preventing the person you’re talking to from opening up further.
Now, if my little sister comes to me with a problem, I try to hold myself back from oversharing the sixteen ways that I would have dealt with her issue when I was in high school. Instead, I try to ask open-ended questions, ones that can’t be shut down with a simple yes or no, that leave room for her emotions to take up as much space as they need. I hope that by directing my questions to her broader feelings — letting her take the reins of the conversation — I can continue to be someone that she feels safe seeking support from.
3. Feelings
Feelings are so important in A Place To Talk that we split this seemingly simple topic up into two trainings. It makes perfect sense, really, because emotions underlie almost every word we choose to utter out loud. When your roommate rants to you about all the stuff they need to get done, they might not actually want to talk to you about their chemistry midterm or their philosophy paper, but rather about their anxiety or how burnt out they feel. When your mom calls to tell you about your neighbor’s dog’s death, she might not actually want to talk about the chemicals in grapes that can be poisonous to poodles, but rather unpack the strangeness in witnessing someone else’s grief, the small things that make you realize how precarious and precious life is. When someone comes to me to talk, I’m now always looking for the subtext of how they feel, using silences, affirmations and open-ended questions to provide a space for those emotions to come out.
4. Crisis intervention
When I was in high school, someone close to me was struggling with severe depression, and the feelings of complete helplessness that I felt are hard to forget. I remember sitting in my high school classes anxiously checking my phone on the table, wondering if they were safe and okay, trying to stop my brain from thinking about what would happen if they weren’t.
In APTT, no mental health topics are taboo. My training equipped me with skills that I wish I could reach into the past and hand to my younger self, allowing her to talk about the sides of mental health that can be so scary to say out loud. The ability to recognize a mental health crisis, to talk about it and to provide safe support are skills that feel equally as important to me as knowing first aid and CPR. I am forever thankful to APTT for providing me with a community that is not only committed to promoting mental health at Hopkins, but also who have been there, who understand.
Since last fall, I have asked approximately five people in my life to share their entire life stories from beginning to end, just like I did to practice vulnerability during my first moments of training. I have navigated difficult conversations with less anxiety than before, learned when to take up less space and let another’s emotions speak to themselves, and reaffirmed that mental health, community and listening to each other are some of the most sacred things we have. I have not only learned how to better listen to those who stop by the APTT rooms, but also to my family, to my friends, to strangers, to the cashier at Streets and the barista at Bird and to myself. My love for training and all that it has given me sits in my chest like a glowing ball of light.
Whether or not you decide to apply to APTT next semester or come visit one of our rooms, I encourage everyone to reflect on the last time they felt truly listened to, the last time they truly listened to someone. If you don’t know where to start, start by asking them their entire life story, and follow by sharing yours.
Hailey Finkelstein is a junior from Ardsley, N.Y. majoring in Medicine, Science and the Humanities. Her column shares miscellaneous prose on current issues, the collective Hopkins experience and growing up with a pen in hand.
