The recent death of Marquette freshman Andrew Siebenaler was not missed by those living off-campus.

Parents, friends, alumni and faculty shared in the shock, sympathy and grief surrounding the situation.

As an alumnus, and former Resident Assistant, I shudder to think about this happening to one of my residents, fellow classmates or friends.

As is customary when a situation of this magnitude occurs on our campus, I am filled with pride for the outpouring of support and concern for those that knew him.

As is also customary, I am filled with a certain sense of fear for the many other students that may be experiencing similar situations in their own lives but are unable to share these feelings because of the continued stigma that surrounds mental health in our world today.

I now work as a mental health nurse here in Milwaukee, and at my job I am confronted with patients that have almost no one else to turn to.

Many of them have sought support from family and friends and were met with misunderstanding, impatience or the various platitudes that we hear so very often: “Cheer up! Why can’t you just see the bright side of things? Be more positive!”

And of course, it’s not as though these individuals don’t want to help — most time they just don’t know how, or are frustrated by their friend, son or sibling that just can’t seem to “snap out of it.”

Most times this frustration is not because of how the patient is acting, but rather it stems from a love of that person and a desire for them to just “be their old self again.”

Sometimes, however, it can be because of fear. Many are afraid to ask those hard questions.

Those questions that have those words that we are afraid to say out loud. Words like “suicide” or questions such as, “Are you thinking of killing yourself?” or, “Do you think about hurting yourself?”

I ask these questions of my patients every day. I often still stutter as they escape my lips.

We are all afraid of these statements. We fear that we might be placing ideas in their head that weren’t there before, that we are enabling them.

This could not be farther from the truth.

Often times, confronting these feelings openly is the only thing that will give a person suffering from depression the permission to speak about them.

They show them that it’s OK to share these feelings they may be keeping so tightly wrapped up in their hearts.

When we grow up, we are taught to achieve.

We are taught to strive for greatness. We are taught to fight to obtain those things in life that we want.

When we have those things, we are taught to hold on for dear life. We are taught that being strong is holding on. Keeping everything in check, everything under control.

Sometimes, though, it takes courage to let go. To admit that we can’t keep the ship straight anymore, that we can’t fight these fights anymore, at least not by ourselves. And sometimes it takes a good friend to help us realize that.

And sometimes it takes a professional to take the reigns from there.

The Counseling Center is a good place to start. Even mental health professionals like myself needed their services. I still do.

We are surprised by this death. This suicide. This student that killed himself. Those words were not easy to type. It’s so hard to talk about these things. I felt uncomfortable just typing them.

Certainly, you may feel some awkwardness, some discomfort in reading them. This will pass. The alternative, however, may not.

Please speak these words when you need to. I, for one, don’t like surprises.

Matthew Manning, a former resident assistant in McCormick Hall, graduated from the College of Arts & Sciences in 2006, and will have a M.S.N. Healthcare Systems Leadership from the College of Nursing in 2011.