What is it that scares you the most? What fears do you have in your mind that nestle behind everything else going on in your life? What would happen if they were to come true? Would you rise to the challenge that they present?

I was in a relationship until recently that lasted for many years. In the back of my mind I became terrified that should the relationship end I would find myself crushed. My spirit would break and I would fall into the depths of despair. And in some ways that occurred, but it happened while I was still in the relationship.

Toward the end of our time together I sensed things weren’t going to work out. My partner and I grew further apart. We spent less time together and started hanging out with different people. Our circles weren’t overlapping and our interests diverged.

It was during those final months my mental health started to take a downward spiral. I felt suicidal and depressed. I had times where I wanted to take my own life. I was mourning and cut up by the end of a relationship even though I was still in it. The route and relationship by which my grief flowed weren’t a traditional one. But in some ways it was better for me since I had a partner there to help me as we sorted through things. We had a lot of discussions. We took time apart.

In my mind I lived with my fears: abandonment, depression, suicidality, loneliness. I feared all these may rear their heads and crush me or kill me.

I have spent the past two decades working toward good mental health. It’s something I do every day through meditation, journaling, and speaking about it with others. I have the tools I need to grow and succeed. I have the confidence—although it’s taken me a long time to get it—to know I am capable of handling big things. I can deal with most everything that comes my way and if not, I have the support system to help me. I’ve worked on my relationships and friendships and they’ve proved to be beneficial.

Thus, when the relationship I had been in all these years finally did end it hurt, but not as bad as I feared it might. I relied on the support system I had and decided to use this new situation as an opportunity to address issues in my life. I worked to develop new friendships, become more involved with activities and found the time to pursue the things I love to do.

Those months before the end of the relationship were some of the most difficult ones I’ve experienced in many years. But my worries didn't crush me; instead, they continued to sculpt me into someone who is often working on himself. I'm trying to improve my mental health and help others along the way, in the same way that friends and family have helped me to overcome my worst fears.


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One of the worst things about going back to school is the feeling of overwhelming dread one gets looking at all there is to do during a semester. It is often called “syllabus shock.” Seeing what is on the syllabus the instructor hands out at the beginning of the semester can lead to waves of emotional pain.

“Will I ever be able to complete all this?” “I’ve never had to write a paper that long!” “A group project?! I hate working on group projects!” These are some of the thoughts I’ve had in my life when I went back to school and looked at a syllabus. Multiply that by four or five for each class I took in a semester and the dread can feel daunting.
 
The fact is that I, along with many other people, have made it through that back to school anxiety. We were not taken down by it. I’ve found there are a few things I did that helped me deal with the worry that came with starting a new school year.

1. Break down your responsibilities
What is it you have to do for the semester? Classes are one part of that, but are you also involved in clubs, a job, a sports team, or something off-campus? Make a list of the things that are requirements—things you have to do.

2. Set up a schedule
Once you have a list, map out what time these responsibilities occur. When are your classes? The clubs you’re a part of? Your job? Seeing everything in one place will enable you to not feel too overwhelmed. Also, you’ll see when you can do other things, such as time with friends and time to study
 
3. Talk to someone
If you’re feeling overwhelmed with school and studying, talk to someone. Maybe it’s a parent or friend—someone who can tell you they’ve been there too or are going through things and can relate. You can speak with a therapist at your school if you’re finding it difficult to maintain a balance between your studying and life outside of classes. It’s okay to talk with professors, too, during their office hours, and see if they can provide any insight to help you with your work in their class.

4. Don’t be afraid to take a step back
If school is causing you to feel overwhelmed and your mental health is suffering, don’t hesitate to drop a class if that’s an option. Overwhelming yourself with too much work and stress isn’t worth going down a path of feeling crappy, mentally. Looking out for yourself and your mental health is one of the most important things you can do in your time in college.

It’s important students continue to share their difficulties including beginning-of-the-year anxieties. It’s also important for staff and faculty to be open-minded to the diversity of students’ backgrounds and what they’re going through. Continual communication and a sense of understanding are key. Practicing these will help students overcome the stress they face at the beginning of the school year.
 
 
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From the ages of 21 to 23, I ran a website that focused on entertainment, in particular, independent music. As part of the website, I wrote a column and on occasion published some poetry. Like much of what we write in our teens and early twenties, it’s embarrassing to look back upon. There were emotions behind the words but they didn’t express what I wanted them to. It was as though my writing was the same as a young teen going through puberty: the body wants to reach fruition, but the shape sometimes trips over itself. The feet are too big, the shoulders too small, or the legs gangly compared to the rest of the body.
 
Yet the writing saved my life in my early twenties. It was the only way I knew to get my emotions out. It was imperfect but it was all I had. On occasion, my bipolar, medication-addled mind would produce a phrase or paragraph that made sense. The words expressed how I felt in an adequate way. There were words that could affect people. I had readers of my column tell me as much. A woman fell in love with me through my words. It was a horrible relationship but it showed me the power words can have.

Over the years I’ve written as a means to express myself and help others. I’ve tried to get pieces published, but often to little success. There are a lot of writers vying for a few slim spaces. On occasion, something gets posted on a website. I’ve done zines and blogs, but it often seems the only people reading are my friends. And while I appreciate that my words are helpful to them, whatever art we’re creating we all hope will help a wider audience than those closest to us.

I’ve written many books that will likely never see the light of day. In the future, I’ll work on others. They’re memoir or music writing, or a combination of both. I don’t feel so compelled to share them anymore. I’ve learned to write simply for me.

I recently found myself in a bad place in my head. I was alone in my apartment and I didn’t want to bother anyone at midnight with my disposition. I had many bad avenues my thoughts were going down. I’ll spare you the details.

I thought about packing a bag and checking myself into the hospital. Instead, I wrote. And wrote. All my fears and worries and anxieties. It didn’t stop for over an hour and at the end, I had a mess of incoherent thoughts. But I realized I was doing the same thing I had done when I was 20. I wrote my way through my saddest, loneliest moments to make sense of who I am and what’s going on in my mind.

At the end of my time writing, I had no energy. But I felt a bit better. And I knew writing had saved me once again, as it always has.

Whatever you have that gets you through your dark times—writing, playing music, knitting or some other creative art—continue to nurture it. Respect it. Don’t let it die. Because even if you’re only doing it for yourself, as I do now with my writing, it may save your life as writing has done for me.
 
 
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When I was in college I threw off any pretensions I had of caring about classes, people or things. I knew I wanted to fit in but tried to mask it underneath an idea that nothing really mattered and I didn’t need anyone.

There was still a pressure to succeed, though. It wasn’t from my peers or even received much from my parents. It was a self-imposed notion that I should do well in my classes. Looking back I can see some of it was my perfectionism I had tried to stuff down inside me and some of it was competition with my peers.
 
I understood that when I got a D+ in Interpersonal Communications my freshman year that wasn’t a positive development. I believed I wanted to do well if for no other reason than I held myself to a high standard. My parents were spending their money to put me through college and I didn’t want to disappoint them.
 
These feelings of competition with myself and my peers led me to feel lonely. It seemed as though everyone else had things together—they didn’t have to struggle as hard with their studying and in taking tests. Understanding of subjects came easier to them. It seemed every person I talked to in my classes didn’t have any problems; I was the only one.
 
These feelings continued in graduate school, too. In fact, at some times they felt even more prevalent. There were fewer students and we all took the same classes. We hung out together on the weekends and were friendly. Yet I sensed that there was a comparison occurring in the background amongst the lot of us.
 
Looking back, I can now see I was wrong about my need for perfection and feelings of being alone in that struggle. Lots of students grapple with feelings of inadequacy. The loneliness that came about because of a belief of not being good enough was prevalent in so many of my peers.
 
Here are some ideas of what you can do when you feel lonely due to your perfectionism in school.
 
1. Share your story. Let others know you’re also feeling overwhelmed. It’s not easy to make yourself vulnerable but the payoff from it can be a weight off one’s shoulders. To be open and honest with your friends or family and let them know you’re struggling gives them the opportunity to help you during such times.

2. Know that what you may perceive as a failure doesn’t mean your world is over. As I mentioned, I got a D+ in Interpersonal Communication in the first semester of college. While this may not seem like the end of the world, I was majoring in communications. I couldn’t even get an A or B in the introductory class for my major. I felt humiliated and insufficient. What was I going to do? Well, I changed my major and got all A’s. And now I speak and write to others. From what I’m told, I’m pretty good at communication. A poor performance in one or two classes doesn’t mean you can’t have success in life.

3. Don’t be afraid to ask for help. If your perfectionism and any anxiety or depression that comes with it is paralyzing you, don’t hesitate to go to your professors. Let them know what you’re struggling with. Often times they will be quite empathetic and understanding. Go to the counseling center and speak to someone there about your issues and concerns. Therapists have seen this sort of problem many times. And speak with family members if you’re close with them. They can often provide support during what is an otherwise difficult transitional time.

It can feel difficult to control feelings of perfectionism, especially at an elite school where it may seem everyone is better than you. There are feelings of inferiority. But you’re not alone in these feelings. There are people out there who want to help. And the things that you may perceive as failures don’t mean your chosen career path or goals are unattainable.
 
 
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​When my partner dumped me in an abrupt way in 2011, I found myself a few days later in a psychiatric hospital. Similarly, in 2001, with my graduation of college only a few weeks away, I couldn’t see a future for myself. Already depressed and hurt by a relationship that ended poorly (see a pattern here?) I tried to take my life.
 
I don’t deal well with change. In fact, it’s the thing at which I am the worst. It’s different if I take it up on my own: changing a job or moving. Yes, those are stressful activities, but I’m in charge. It’s the unintended changes; the times when I am struck with a life-altering event over which I have no control. Those are the ones with which I don’t fare well.
 
These big life changes are often the points in time that cause me to head in a downward spiral. For much of my life my base foundation is one of depression and anxiety. Thus, I find that an unintended alteration of my life trajectory compounds my situation. I crumble, I get scared, I see walls closing in. Nothing feels as though it will work out for good.
 
In the midst of these experiences, how do I find solace? Where do I go to find some stability? Well, to be honest, I’m still not the greatest at this. I have to work hard to make sure I’m on a good path. I have to stay focused and use all the coping mechanisms I’ve learned. It is very difficult, but I know that often my life may depend on it.
 
That said, here are a few things I do when I am undergoing changes that have a negative effect on me.
 
1) Reach out
Even if we feel very lonely, when we are honest with ourselves we can admit that we all have a few people in our lives to whom we can turn when we’re in trouble. When you feel your life spiraling downward due to change, reach out to those whom you know you can depend. Even if it’s that roommate you had five years ago whom you don’t speak to much, or that cousin you like but aren’t super close to—use that opportunity to reach out and fill them in on what’s happening with you. If you have close family or friends, that’s even better.
 
2) Create a plan
Creating a plan may be one of the last things you feel like doing when you’re suffering from unwanted change. But coming up with ideas of what you are going to do can provide focus. Having a routine and developing ideas to keep yourself occupied is a great way to fend off ruminating on a situation you find to be negative.
 
3) Become more involved
Let's say your change is due to losing someone or finding yourself in a new environment. Meeting new people can sometimes help ease that transition. Making a concerted effort to take part in new activities and making new friends can help in two ways. 1) It helps develop a new community with whom you can find connections. 2) It helps you not spend as much time thinking of the change that may be causing you pain.
 
Do you have any other suggestions you’d suggest for when you’re undergoing big life changes? What’s worked for you? What hasn’t? And did you know there are some good things that can come from change?
 
Like what you read? Want to have Kurt come talk to your group about belonging, loneliness, and mental health? Click here to contact him about speaking at your event.

In the throes of my depression, anxiety, and loneliness, I felt immovable. I couldn’t get out of bed due to my depression. My anxiety made me fearful of being around people for reasons I didn’t understand. For that matter, my loneliness often made it difficult for me to even find anyone with whom I may connect.
 
So, why are you stuck? What is it in your life that is keeping you from getting out of the rut in which you find yourself? These are deep, serious questions. We’re all struggling with some emotional issue in our lives. How can we find happiness and a solution to our concerns?
 
I have people come to me on a semi-regular basis, asking these questions in one form or another. How do I get unstuck? How do I get out of this depression or loneliness or anxiety?
 
I listen to make sure I understand what they’re saying and to empathize. I then let them know that my experiences are all I can base my suggestions on. Their situation is unique. But generally, the solution for getting unstuck is straightforward. Therapy and medication as well as self-help books and skills are what have worked for me.

For some people, their ability to get unstuck may resolve itself by talking with a trained outsider, i.e. a therapist. That may take a few sessions or it may be months. But having someone with training to listen with care and give their opinion on a matter can be what it takes to jolt us out of our mired state.

For others, they can get this freedom from their stuck position by reading a helpful self-help text. I’ve read books on cognitive behavioral therapy that showed me how my thoughts can affect my actions. These books sometimes included activities I could undertake to train my brain to think different.
 
There is also a need for some individuals to take medication to help with getting unstuck. For me that was the case. My depression and anxiety were so chronic that my brain needed a boost. I was far removed from normal functioning. I began a search with my psychiatrist to find something that might get me up to a level where therapy and self-help books could be more effective.
 
Taking that first step is what is important, though. And it’s not easy to ask for help and reach out. It’s tough. And it can be one of the most difficult things we may ever do.
 
But the alternative is being unhappy. And no matter how much we may have convinced ourselves otherwise, we do deserve to be happy. And we all want to be happy.
 
There are people who exist to help us in our journeys, even when it may not feel like it. But finding a method (therapy, self-help, and/or medications) of help is the best way for us to get unstuck. So what are you dealing with? And what can you do today to work toward no longer feeling stuck?
 
 
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I’ve been putting together posts for this blog for over a year. Every week I create a new post and sometimes I’ve posted more than once. People have commented to me that they’re amazed I’m able to come up with new content every week.
 
Sometimes I’m amazed I can do it, too. For those interested in writing about their mental health experiences, there are a few things to keep in mind.
 
1) Be honest
Start by sharing your own story. How did you get to a place of stability? If you’re not there yet, why not? What are the issues you struggle with? Write about those struggles. In a clear, concise manner, dig into what you’re going through. Attending therapy will help you understand better your mental health issues. This may make it easier to write out your feelings and experiences. But make sure they’re your experiences and you’re being honest. People value honesty more than anything. Regardless of whether it’s a success or failure.
 
2) Do your research
I read a lot about loneliness and mental health. For years I poured through magazine and newspaper articles as well as self-help books. I read about suicide, loneliness, depression, and anxiety. Reading as much as I did gave me a better sense of knowing what to write and I felt confident in my knowledge of the subject. That confidence helped my writing to be strong and robust.

3) Keep to your own experience
Don’t write about the mental health issues of others, unless it’s in relation to your own. Let them tell their own story. You don’t know what others are feeling or going through, so focus on you. There’s no quicker way to lose the favor of your readers than by making judgments about things of which you may not know much.

4) Break down your experiences
Instead of writing how you suffered from depression and now you’re not, explore the depression in detailed terms. What were the initial stages of your depression like? What was it like getting diagnosed? (Or if you haven’t been diagnosed, why not?) What were your experiences like with medication? Therapy? Other treatments? Each of these could be a blog entry in itself.

5) Read other blogs and news sites
I have a “favorites” section in my Google news that includes searches on articles about depression, loneliness, and mental health. I skim through those searches once a week and if an article seems interesting, I’ll read it. Perhaps I’ll write a response to it. And if not, it’s keeping me up on what’s going on in the field and it may give me ideas of what I can write about in the future.

What about you? If you're writing about mental health, do you have any tips on what makes for good content? Have you learned any lessons from your experiences writing on mental illness?
  
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​In the beginning of 2011 I was in a rough place. My psychiatrist and I agreed to change up my medication and it wasn’t going so well. The depression in my life left me so low I had to enter a psychiatric hospital. It was a surreal and unsettling experience. Eventually I went back to the medications I had been on and my emotions leveled off.
 
Four months later I once again found myself in the hospital following an attempt to end my life. This experience in the hospital was better and more helpful, but still unsettling. (I’ve written about these particular experiences here and here if you want to read more about them.)
 
During these experiences I had the same therapist, Val. I began seeing her two years prior, in 2009, when I was in grad school. She was working on a PhD in psychology at the same school and was one of the student therapists in training. After she graduated in 2010 she did some training (or licensing hours—I wasn't sure) at a hospital near my apartment, so I continued to see her.
 
Val always kept her cards close to her chest. I didn’t know much about her. There weren’t any photos or artwork in her office. There were some flowers and a laptop but no decorations that might give me insight into her mind and personality. She told me she liked the singer Gillian Welch. She had a sweater vest I thought was cute.
 
Some therapists share bits about their lives—they’ll mention a spouse or kids. They’ll tell me where they grew up or if they’re familiar with a concept, place, or individual I’m talking about. I never got anything from Val. She was an enigma.
 
But Val felt very deeply. From the looks on her face and the questions she asked I could tell she cared. Her actions showed that, too. Both times I was in the hospital Val kept in touch with me on the phone. While she didn’t come visit me (which was fine) she checked in to see how I was doing. That meant a lot at a time I didn’t feel as though I had many lifelines.
 
After the first time I got out of the hospital I still wasn’t feeling 100%. In fact, I felt pretty horrible.
 
The Friday morning before I headed back to work after getting out of the hospital, I went to see Val. My desire to kill myself was still intact. In Val’s bare bones office located in a decrepit brick building next to a decrepit hospital I lost whatever I had left. I hadn’t cried in the hospital but at that moment I let out everything that had been building over the past week (if not longer).

I had seen therapists for close to a decade at that point and had never needed a Kleenex to mop up tears, until then. Therapy had always been so casual and detached for me. But at that moment I broke. Tears were streaming down my cheeks. Val sat there calmly, but with empathy lined on her face. “It hurts me to see you in so much pain, Kurt,” she said. She did her best to re-assure me and let me know she was there for me. I blew my nose and kept crying.
 
Things got better for me thanks to Val's willingness to listen and provide advice, some of it almost benign, but still helpful. She once told me before I went into the hospital the first time to smile, whether I wanted to or not. She said studies had shown it could help improve one's mood. It was one of those “fake it ‘til you make it” things that I hated. I came to find out Val was right, though. It was some off-the-cuff piece of advice that I have no doubt she forgot soon after she gave it. But sometimes when I find myself down, I’ll force a smile, think about good things, and it helps turn around my mood.

Unfortunately, after the second time I was in the hospital in 2011 Val and I parted ways. Her internship at the hospital near my apartment finished and she had to go do hours at a hospital where she wouldn’t be able to see me. My next therapist was horrible and I dropped her within months. I’m not going to say Val was the best therapist I ever had—I don’t believe in ranking them. But she was there for me and was empathetic at a time I needed it most. It was certainly one of the lowest points in my life. I’m sure I was a source of worry for Val during that time. Yet I so appreciate her sticking by me and doing the things she needed to so that my mind could be at ease and comforted.

Recently I thought of Val. I wondered if she was still practicing in the area. I knew she had a partner but still didn’t know if she was living around Boston. I thought it might be nice to drop a line and ask if she remembered me and to let her know I was doing so much better than I was back when we had therapy.

I did a Google search for her name and while I pulled up some info about her practice, the top results were obituaries for her. I said, “Oh no!” out loud to my empty apartment and my heart dropped. Val had cancer that took her life in May 2019. She had a spouse and kids and a dog. She was only 43.

I learned more about Val through her obituary than I did from talking with her. It sounded as though she had a wonderful life and it makes me sad because she was such a good therapist: kind and caring. After almost two decades of therapists, I've learned that’s not always easy to come by.

It’s been a few days since I learned about her passing and I’m still sad about it. I hadn’t seen her in years but she held a special place in my heart because she saw me through a dark time and did so with love and gentle humanity. And I’ll be forever thankful for that. The world is a less bright place without someone like Val helping others.

When I get to the point in my presentation that involves creating an action plan to develop connections, I ask three questions: “What am I good at? What do I like to do? What do I have time for?” Some students tell me that when it comes to the last question, they don’t have time for anything. Students often share how stressed and busy they are. Thanks to parents, friends, and society at-large, many students believe they must take part in many activities to achieve success in life.
 
While I speak on loneliness and helping people find a sense of belonging, I am also aware that for many college students the alternative is all too true. They take part in more groups and clubs than they can handle. They’re also supposed to study and do work for school. They may even have a job on the side as well.
 
To develop deeper connections with others, it’s key for students to fight back against the stereotype about what college must be. What’s more important is our well-being. And part of that involves ridding ourselves of the things that cause us stress.
 
What I tell students is two-fold. First, I wasn’t involved in any on-campus activities and yet I did okay in college and was able to get in to two grad programs. In fact, I spent a lot of my time at college off-campus, with friends at other colleges. And I also spent a lot of time by myself, pushing people away. Mental illness constantly followed me around. So not joining many clubs is not a death sentence for one’s future.
 
The other thing I tell students is to focus on one or two things they enjoy the most: perhaps it’s a club or activity on or off campus. And let the other activities go. It’s important to experience many different things as we try to figure out what we like to do in life. Yet it’s also key that we follow the activities we enjoy the most. In my case in college that meant going to concerts and shows. I wanted to develop the relationships I found there because music is where I found I fit in and felt accepted—as much as that was possible.
 
College students today have an enormous amount of pressure placed upon them by those trying to help them succeed. But nothing is more important than one’s well-being. I’ve never heard anyone who was happy stressed out and involved in more activities and organizations than they had time for. Yet, when people found time for what they actually enjoyed, they often excelled in those areas. In doing so they found genuine connections with others as well as opportunities that helped them in life. Nothing is perfect, but it is, more often than not, a healthier way to live.
 
​
Like what you read? Want to have Kurt come talk to your group about belonging, loneliness, and mental health? Click here to contact him about speaking at your event.

It’s that time of year: students are heading back to school. I live in a neighborhood with many colleges and universities, and also work part time at one, so it’s a prevalent part of my life.
 
When I got out of college, it felt weird to not get ready for school in August of that year. When something is part of your life for sixteen years, it’s weird to not have it any longer. Who was I to become without school as part of my existence? It was difficult to fine-tune to a new take on life. That’s not to say I wanted to be back in college, but I had a difficult time adjusting to change in my life. Not going back to school the summer after I graduated made me feel as though I did something wrong. It was as though I had gotten in trouble and wasn’t allowed to be part of my regular routine anymore.
 
I went to grad school a couple of times and that got me back in the swing of things. But with nine years since I finished my last formal schooling, I’ve gotten used to life without college.
 
One thing that was never explained to me, though, was how to make connections with others after being around so many of the same people for years. We graduated, went our separate ways, and our close bonds fell apart. So how can we keep those connections after college?
 
1) Move to be near your friends
When I got out of graduate school the first time, I had many friends from college and other parts of my life who lived in Seattle. After working a job I didn’t like in the Midwest I decided to head out West to be closer to them because I knew I had an immediate community there.

2) Stay in frequent touch
Social media has changed how we connect with one another. We can follow people and know where they’re working, how their family is doing, and what activities they’re enjoying by accepting them as a friend on Facebook or Instagram. But that kind of connection can only take one so far. Even texting doesn’t match the level of depth one gets talking on the phone or visiting in person. I have some close friends that I try and see face-to-face at least once a year and speak on the phone with often. There’s nothing like setting aside time specifically for someone to make you feel closer to another person.

3) Accept that some friendships may not last
The people I spent time with every weekend in high school may be friends with me on social media, but their deeper connection to me is non-existent. And that’s okay. Imagine if we were as close to everyone we became friends with throughout our lives as we were to those friends we had in high school. It would be untenable. People change, our interests change, and that’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with that. But it also means it may be difficult to keep those friendships together.
 
4) Build new friendships
That said, it is hard to develop new relationships, as I’ve often explored on this blog. But there are ways to make connections. This can occur through volunteering, religious groups, hobbies, and work. These aren’t all the ways to do so, but looking at such things as the EASE Method can give you an idea of how to develop those new friendships.

Life after college isn’t easy, but the transition can improve by taking proactive steps to find connections. 

As I’ve been speaking and writing on loneliness the past year or two I’m forced to take into account my own experiences with it. I think about college, graduate school, and moving to Boston, where I currently live. All those periods had a sense of not belonging.
 
There were times I experienced connections, though: in high school and when I lived in Seattle from 2006 to 2008. It was during those times that I had close friends with whom I often did activities and with whom I felt close. We shared some common bonds in regards to our interests (mainly music). Our senses of humor and personalities also were similar.
 
Today I struggle with finding connections with others. It causes me to feel a great deal of hypocrisy in what I do. I speak with others about finding a sense of connection—both how to do it and why it’s important. Yet I live more of a “do as I say, not as I do” mentality.

This isn’t intentional—it’s not as though I hate everyone and want them to go away. Nor is it because I’m incapable of making friends. And I do have them. But I’ve come to realize that my closest relationships are with my friends I’ve had for a long time. I also feel close to some family and enjoy spending time with them. But, the majority of my friendships are from a distance.

I feel bad about this and wonder if I should do more to deal with it. Yet on occasions when I reach out to others or vice versa, I sometimes think about all the other things I’d rather be doing. I contemplate the projects I’m working on, the writing I want to finish, or the ways to grow my business. This isn’t constant, but it is something that crosses my mind.

Also, I work jobs interacting with tourists and visitors to the city. The idea of interacting with more people after a long day at work seems, to this introvert, tiring. It’s all too often another obligation. And I hate that it has come to that.

I’ve struggled with this hypocrisy for months: I’m not even doing the things I suggest. But the fact of the matter is I’m okay with where I’m at. I don’t feel loneliness running rampant over my life. I don’t have that great gaping chasm in my soul for deep connection. I’m doing pretty well, but I wonder if this situation is tenable.

Perhaps what I really need is a regular activity to build connections with others. Seeing my roommate in Seattle every day and doing things with him on the weekend worked to bring us together. Seeing my friends at school when I was in my teens and then at shows on Friday and Saturday nights was helpful. Music bonded us together in one way or another.

But that thing I used to hold pretty dear I’ve aged out of. I don’t go to a lot of concerts anymore, only a handful per year. The activities I have are more solitary in nature: writing, reading, and speaking. It’s hard to make connections in that setting—perhaps a book club or writing group? I’m not that type of person: I read sporadically and usually for my own research. I write blog posts and articles (although I have a few book ideas up my sleeve).

So what am I missing? What regular activity can I partake in that brings me together with others? And how do I get myself to care about those things? Any ideas? I’m open.


Like what you read? Want to have Kurt come talk to your group about belonging, loneliness, and mental health? Click here to contact him about speaking at your event.

​I recently came across an opinion piece by Varun Soni, the dean of religious life at USC. It's about the importance of colleges in developing “the whole student.” This article hit on a thought I’ve had lately: what is the role of universities and colleges in developing a student beyond their academic education? And why should they take part or not take part in that?
 
For centuries universities and colleges stuck to teaching academic subject matter. But over time clubs and organizations formed on campuses. These could be fraternal or academic groups. Sports also became a part of the university setting. As medical schools became prevalent, health care became available for students on campus, too. The amount of events, organizations, and departments at colleges today would amaze students from hundreds of years ago.
 
Nowadays, schools also try to focus on developing students’ social lives as well as their mental health. It's safe to say we can agree it's a good thing anytime a person’s mental health improves. (That includes by developing connections and finding belonging with others). Unfortunately, many higher ed institutions appear confused about the degree to which they should support mental health issues. They would rather align their budgets with what brings in the money for the university. This often means athletics and entertainment.
 
Universities often pay a lot of lip service to wanting to develop “the whole student” but fail to do so. Sure, some departments (primarily Health and Wellness Centers) embark on programs to create awareness with the student population about opportunities to help make connections. But far too often they relegate these to some links on a website. (I saw one counseling center link to WebMD and Dr. Oz—the TV doctor. This is a horrible idea. Please do not turn to television doctors for medical advice.)
 
It’s not the fault of counseling centers on campus, though. They’re often strapped for cash, which is a shame. Nothing is more important in a human being’s life than their physical and mental health. If someone’s brain isn’t working well, they’re not going to be able to focus on school. From a practical, capitalist sense, it would seem logical to invest money to help students with their mental health. This includes the means by which they can make connections.
 
For many of us, our parents may have genuinely loved us. Yet many parents didn’t teach us how to make friends and establish connections. It seems like such a simple thing, but it can be difficult, especially when you’re a college student in a new environment and know few, if any, people. Thus, someone somewhere along the way is going to have to pick up the slack and educate students on this subject.

Some critics of wellness programs may find fault with the spending of money on activities such as those at USC. These are programs that try to make connections between students. It’s imperative, though, that universities and colleges educate and motivate students to develop connections. The time of relying on universities to only educate students in the academic sense is over. Schools have a responsibility to educate the whole person. This is if for no other reasons than a) it’s good for the university’s bottom line if students find those connections because they will be less likely to drop out and b) often students aren’t learning these skills other places.

That said, it’ll take a serious investment from higher education institutions to address loneliness on campus. This investment must be more than the lip service schools have often given the topic. Or, schools need to be aware of how loneliness (and to a larger degree mental health) fits into the picture when it comes to their strategic vision.

It’s not too late for schools to act on this, but it needs to become a priority. In doing so we can hopefully stem the tide of loneliness felt all too often by students and which is detrimental to their mental health.
 
 
Like what you read? Want to have Kurt come talk to your group about belonging, loneliness, and mental health? Click here to contact him about speaking at your event.

Most days when I was in first grade I wanted to go home and be with my mom. I’d go into the bathroom in the back of the class and cry. I’m sure a lot of it was anxiety. But over the years I’ve dealt with not enjoying my time at school, no matter where I was: middle school, high school, or college. I simply wanted to do my own thing.

I suppose that is in part why it was so easy for me to get into punk rock, with its rebellion against authority. I hate having people tell me what to do and when to do it. I’m happy to take advice, but if I don’t feel the work is worthwhile, then I’m not interested in it. So it’s not surprising that in my work life I haven't enjoyed working unless I could do whatever I wanted. I need autonomy in my job to be able to act how I want and say and do what was important to me. That hardly occurs at most jobs.

It’s taken me almost forty years to realize that my best bet is to work for myself. I don’t want to own some large corporation with employees. I want to be my own boss and rely upon myself to push me to succeed.

I've spoken about this to my therapist—working for others seems to be one of the only things makes me depressed anymore. My current job situation is better than past ones. Until recently, my disinterest in work forced me to focus on living right in the moment. I had to not think ahead to the anxiety that working for someone else caused me. I had to harness the meditation and relaxation skills I learned over the years in therapy.

I often feel bad for not being thankful for the good work I have and how much has given to me. I don’t understand why in the past it drove me into the ground to get up every day and get on the subway and go to work with the masses.

I recall what my parents told me about how so many people don’t have it so good. I should feel lucky to be in such a fortunate situation. I was never taught that I can do whatever it is I want to do if I try hard enough. I would’ve loved to have someone encourage me in my writing when I was in my early twenties, or in my speaking at that time. I wonder who I could’ve been if I had a mentor that guided me and showed me the way in what I wanted to do.

But it’s better late than never and rather than complaining about things, I am becoming my own boss through speaking and running a tour business. it's not easy, but by being my own boss I find a joy I haven't had at any other job. 
 
Have you disliked most of your jobs? Perhaps look at utilizing your talents into creating your own company or organization. It’s helped my mental health a great deal and is incredibly rewarding.

​There has been a lot written on the importance of being thankful. I think about things that make me grateful from time to time. Writing in a journal and being a reflective person gives me the ability to see how far I’ve come in my journey. And I acknowledge I’ve been a very fortunate person who has received benefits in life that many don’t receive. And for that alone I’m grateful. But in that spirit of gratitude I want to list a few things for which I am thankful. My hope is that this will prompt you to take a moment to acknowledge thankfulness in your own life, which might in turn lead to some happiness.

1. Medication and therapy
I know medication for depression and anxiety isn’t for everyone, but I’m convinced if I wasn’t on meds I’d be dead. I believe this because the time I tried to go off it in a responsible way with the help of my psychiatrist, I ended up in the hospital. Therapy, too, has been quite beneficial in giving me an opportunity to vent and work through issues I’ve faced.

2. My living situation
I live in a big city but am fortunate to have a place with affordable rent. My living situation is such I can support myself with a few part-time jobs that I’ve cobbled together into full-time hours. I do all this while working toward my goal of being a full-time mental health speaker on subjects of loneliness and belonging. But I’m very thankful for this opportunity I have. I don’t feel strapped for cash all the time, which has given me the confidence I need to work toward my goal.

3. Friends and family
While many of my friends and family live far away, I find their encouraging emails, texts, and messages on social media helpful. They keep me going toward my goals, celebrating my successes and encouraging me in my disappointments. It’s nice to know I have a team of people who believe in me and support me in all aspects of my life. My relationships have changed over the years with them. Some people move away and grow distant, but I still feel a general sense of care from others which I truly appreciate.
 
Those are a few of the things I am thankful for, but what about you? What things have made your life happier and for which you are grateful?
 
 
Like what you read? Want to have Kurt come talk to your group about belonging, loneliness, and mental health? Click here to contact him about speaking at your event.

In my attempts to deal with my mental health issues I’ve learned the importance of empathy. I’ve always tried to be a kind, compassionate person. Yet it’s the development of empathy in my life that has caused me to grow the most.

In doing so, I learned to put myself in the shoes of others. At a prior job I had a manager who was quite cruel. She yelled at others. (Never me, though. For some reason she liked me.) She would scream at them and lose her cool on a weekly basis. People couldn’t stand her. It was easier for me to handle because I never came under direct fire from her. Yet when I heard stories of her flying off the handle I thought, “What happened to her to cause her to be so mean? What kind of emotional trauma did she undergo? Or what was her life like that she never learned to communicate her frustration in a productive way?”

While not wanting to minimize the emotional impact her outbursts had on my co-workers, I also tried identifying the hurt she may have experienced that caused her to behave in the manner she did.
 
While not blinded to the fact that cruelty seems baked into the DNA of some people, I’m also ready and willing to give others the benefit of the doubt. Some of this comes from my own experiences. From my studies of history I learned violence and struggle don’t appear out of nowhere. People have undergone pain and frustration that gives rise to their actions.

The sooner we can accept that we are individuals with flaws who make mistakes, the sooner we can accept others and their mistakes. Bitterness and anger magnifies in our lives while kindness and empathy often can bring a like return.
 
But how does having empathy for others help with my own mental health? As I learned to empathize with others I realized that to do so also meant I had to do the same for myself. I wasn’t an exception to the rule of trying to understand others’ pain. I had my own experiences I had to put in context. I needed to understand that the reasons I was irritable were because of my depression and fears. I learned that was okay and to forgive myself for having those feelings of frustration with others.
 
I also learned it was fine to cut myself some slack, as I would for others who were going through difficult times. While not excusing my mean or immature behavior, I also put it in context and understand why it happened. Empathy, then, returns dividends not only for relationships with others but with the connection we have with ourselves.
 
This process was not quick and easy. I had to let fall many walls in my life and be honest and acknowledge I was worthwhile. But I want to be a kind, caring person. Yet it’s hypocritical to offer love to others but withdraw it for myself. So I had to take that leap and acknowledge that my kindness and empathy needed given to all people, even me. Acknowledging that everyone deserved empathy gave me permission to begin to put my attitude in perspective. Knowing that everyone needed empathy—and finally acknowledging that meant me, too—opened me up to the beginning of going easy on myself.
 
 
Like what you read? Want to have Kurt come talk to your group about belonging, loneliness, and mental health? Click here to contact him about speaking at your event.

​The years of anxiety and fear were never-ending in my mind. My self-confidence was always low. I didn’t know how I would ever get beyond my worries.
 
That paragraph might describe many times in my life. It could be the two years after college when I lived with my parents and couldn’t fathom a way out of living with them. Or the years I put off moving to some big city where I knew I may thrive but was too intimidated. Or it's the time I declined to admit I wanted something—anything—that might be more than what I felt I “deserved.”
 
Why had words of encouragement never sunk in? Why had I always doubted myself and my abilities? And how did I overcome these fears?
 
For most of my life I didn’t believe when people gave me compliments. Much of this has to do with my depression and anxiety—I felt (and very much believed) that I wasn’t good enough. I believed that my mental health issues made me less of a human being. Thus, when someone told me they appreciated what I did or said, I didn’t believe them. I had too many years of experience telling me otherwise. Besides, I knew what I felt, and what I felt seemed real. It was more real than any words from someone who wasn’t living my life.
 
So I truly believed I wasn’t a good writer or speaker. I doubted that I had anything of importance to share.
 
But with time comes experience. And confidence. And taking my medications to help calm my anxiety and depression helped a great deal, too.
 
I began to trust others and their judgments of me. I also had to put into the proper place my perfectionism. I began to understand that I could be a good writer even if I wasn’t the best one ever. When people complimented me on my writing I knew that at least I had touched that one person. And every individual counts.
 
At some point I realized I detested a life of static unhappiness. I figured out the things I enjoyed (it took me well into my 30s—I hope you have the ability to find out what makes your heart flutter well before that). And things lined up well enough that I felt comfortable quitting my job and taking on many part-time positions. At the same time I am now working toward fulfilling my goal to be a mental health speaker.

There’s never a right time to make your leap to living a life you want to live. I've heard this a hundred times. But you do what you can to find a time that works as well as you imagine it’s going to get. Then you take that leap. It’s scary and I’m still trying to figure how everything shakes out.
 
But I’m glad I made my move to fulfill my goals. Because 1) I don’t want to live a life where I’m unhappy; 2) you won’t know unless you try; 3) maybe—just maybe—I am better and more worthy of joy and contentment than I thought. And if you’re being honest with yourself, you will see that you are, too.
 
 
Like what you read? Want to have Kurt come talk to your group about belonging, loneliness, and mental health? Click here to contact him about speaking at your event.

​After I speak to groups, I open up the floor for questions. The question I receive most often is: “How did you know you wanted to speak about mental health?” Some of it goes back to what I wrote here about why I speak up on mental health issues.
 
But, it’s also a bigger question than that. Sure, it feels good to do it and I like to help others, but the how of it is something different.

What students are asking is about confidence. They want to know where I got the confidence to know I was sure enough of myself to pursue something.

In college I lacked much confidence in anything, especially myself. In fact, I’ve lacked confidence in myself for much of my life. It took many years of therapy and introspection to realize that I’m a worthwhile person who can achieve great things. I had to learn to love myself.
 
It wasn't until my mid-thirties I realized what I’m good at. And that is public speaking. People often told me how much they enjoyed the historical tours I did. They also said I was a natural storyteller. I won at The Moth, a storytelling event. My confidence grew.
 
So how did I finally get to that place where I knew this is what I wanted to do? I researched and saw one could make a career of it. I acknowledged and took to heart what others told me: I was good at public speaking. I found a topic, mental health, of which I had great passion. Finally, I very much wanted a change in my life.
 
The past fifteen years working in libraries has been my primary source of income. And while I enjoy some aspects of the work, I realized I was unhappy. I found myself depressed and in despair, both at the job and when I came home. While I still think working in libraries is a noble profession, it was not the right fit for me. I’ve learned that when we come home from work miserable, it’s time to move on. There was a coincidence of unhappiness and finding something I was good at—storytelling and public speaking. This pushed me to get out of my situation and make a change.
 
That’s how I knew speaking on mental health was what I wanted to do. It’s not for everyone, but it’s the right path for me and one I’m enjoying and find quite rewarding.
 
 
Like what you read? Want to have Kurt come talk to your group about belonging, loneliness, and mental health? Click here to contact him about speaking at your event.

​Recently a friend pointed me to an article by Gary Glass, director of counseling and career services at Oxford College, titled “Rethinking Campus Mental Health.”
 
Glass does a remarkable job exploring the importance of community in combating mental health issues on campus. Glass started as a university psychologist in the ‘90s. At that time it seemed there were more students than ever seeking out counseling services. From my observations (and Glass’s), this seems to be as much of a concern as it was decades ago. Many therapists at universities spend a great deal of time helping students with their fears and worries. These are often, unfortunately, all too typical for students. It’s important students feel they have a place to turn in times of need. Yet counselors have limited time and many students are dealing with serious mental health issues.
 
So, what if individuals and organizations at the university helped to pick up some of the slack in giving students a place to turn in time of need? Glass believes those beyond the counseling center could aid in combating stress and anxiety brought on by competition and perfectionism.

There are many reasons college students (and to a larger degree those ages 16-24) have a hard time with loneliness. One of these is a misunderstanding of social cues. I read about this as a possible cause of loneliness in my research and knew exactly what it meant.
 
For a lot of my life, I’ve dealt with low self-esteem and been hard on myself. But over the years people would say nice things to me. Yet I’d never accept them as genuine. Shutting these people down led me to not form connections, which, in turn, made me lonelier.
 
Due to a lack of life experience, it’s often hard for young adults and teens to understand what people are saying beyond their words. For example, when I was in college someone may say something to me like, “I like your shirt,” or “It was really cool talking to you the other night at the party.” And my thought pattern would go to, “They don’t really mean that. They’re just saying that because they feel they have to.” My verbal reaction would be, “Oh, thanks,” and my facial reaction would often be one of nonchalance. In doing this, I shut the door on a possible connection.
 
And when you think about it, there’s no logical sense to the notion that everyone is lying to you when they give you a compliment. There’s not some grand cabal that has gotten together and decided they want to be mean to you.
 
Think about yourself: when you compliment someone or say something nice to them, you mean it. So why would you assume that a compliment directed toward you is illegitimate?
 
When people compliment you, that’s an attempt they’re making to reach out. Next time someone says, “I like your shirt,” use that as an opportunity to ask them what they like about it. Or tell them where you got it. Or why you like it. Use that as an entry point to make a connection. That’s not to say this person is going to become your new best friend, but they might. And as is the case so often with making connections, you don’t know if you don’t try.

So, don’t hesitate to accept the compliment and use it as a starting point to develop what could become a genuine relationship.


Like what you read? Want to have Kurt come talk to your group about belonging, loneliness, and mental health? Click here to contact him about speaking at your event.

College isn’t the only time one can feel loneliness strike. In fact, I recognized loneliness much more in my two graduate programs.
 
Like college, few people knew one another. We bonded over classes and looked the other way at personality flaws that our peers exhibited. In my second grad program I met so many people dealing with mental health issues. There were barely functioning alcoholics. Few of us seemed to be aware of how to handle relationships—either friendships or dating.
 
In both grad programs I found myself close to some people one semester and then distanced from them the next. I’d meet someone at a party, find them fascinating, dream of what our relationship or friendship might become, and then never see them again. They’d sit in my mind for days or weeks, until the next person came along for whom I’d pin all my hopes of connection.
 
My mental health wasn’t stable during those years and I was too scared to come out and share my problems. I felt loneliness creep into my life. There were peers in my program with whom I felt a connection, but they always seemed to have plans with other people. I couldn’t decide if it was me or them or both of us. Why couldn’t we connect when I saw how much we were all drowning in our despair and loneliness?
 
By my second year of my American Studies grad program I was in the depths of research on my thesis topic: Christian scare films of the 1970s. Needless to say, I was one of the only people working on this subject in the United States. This made it difficult to connect with others on the thing that engulfed my life for nine months.

This disconnect left me feeling even lonelier. In both my graduate programs people bonded over their connection with school. They threw themselves into sex and drinking. This allowed them to deal with the awkwardness, the anxiety, and the introverted nature they were trying to overcome.

For my part, I dated, went to house parties, and threw myself into my school work. With my American Studies program, I spent long hours tucked away in the graduate program’s office, a windowless cinder block rectangle. It was a cold, dark room, but I could be alone and not bothered there on Sunday afternoons and evenings.

Looking back I see how the alcohol and mental health issues exacerbated our relationships. These things prohibited our ability to make connections. We were so desperate to meet others and find a sense of belonging that we tried relationships with people we otherwise might never have. Our school brought us closer together but it wasn’t enough.

What I should’ve done during this time was seek others who shared similar interests as me. I didn’t even know who I was then or what I wanted. But using something like the EASE method would’ve been of great help.

If you are considering going to get a masters degree or PhD, know that graduate school can be a very lonely time. It can also be quite exciting. Prepare yourself, mentally, for the challenges that may come with being in a new place and new people. Know that as you get focused in your area of study, it may cause you to feel quite alone. Make preparations to extend yourself to find others.

The power is in your hands to make graduate school a success, not only on an academic level but also on a social one.
 
 
Like what you read? Want to have Kurt come talk to your group about belonging, loneliness, and mental health? Click here to contact him about speaking at your event.

I’ve been struggling with patience. And not only recently. My lack of patience has been an issue for me for a long time. Something happened many years ago—I attempted to take my life. That was a difficult time in my life, but I’ve come out of that place with a clearer direction of who I want to be and where I want to go.
 
There was a time in my life where I wanted to try everything. I wanted to be a stand-up comedian, I wanted to act in plays, I wanted to be a well-known writer. I had dreams of saving up money to travel the world for a year. I thought about learning to climb mountains. Yet I’ve come to realize that unfortunately, we don’t have enough time in our lives to do all that we desire.
 
So we have to focus. And for my part I’ve chosen to focus on mental health. Sharing my experiences with loneliness and mental health issues enables me to do public speaking (which I enjoy) as well as travel.
 
I’ve always been a person who lacks patience, though. I want things to be over with so I can get to the good stuff: the trips I’ve planned, the holidays I enjoy, the visits from friends. I want work to be over so I can go to the gym, and then I want the gym to be over so I can go home and take a shower. Then I want the night to be over so I can sleep and the work week to be over because on the weekends I get to work on what I really desire: my writing and speaking.
 
In doing so I often miss the simple pleasures of life: the warmth of the sun, the fine writing of a good sentence in a book, the soft fur of my cat.
 
My lack of patience also causes me to not appreciate my successes. I look past when I do things I enjoy such as speak with audiences or share a story that gets a good laugh. I acknowledge it, but never seem to fully appreciate it.

I want to go to the next thing and complete my next goal.

I find that my lack of patience can raise my irritability. It leads me to become grumpy when things don’t go the right way. I can also get depressed and desperate. When a success seems as though it’s a year or two away and will need a great deal of work I can despair. I worry that my depression and anxiety will overwhelm me before then.

So what can I do in these situations?

1. Take some time to slow down and appreciate the little things. I’ve found meditation helps me relax and learn to focus on what is bothering me. I can appreciate my breath. I may not always be able to stop at any time during the day and enjoy my experience at that moment, but I’m at least trying and that’s worth something.
 
2. Recognize during those times of anxiety and impatience that “This too shall pass.” I will get to my goal at some point, as I have so many times before. And when that happens…
 
3. Enjoy and celebrate those successes. Go out to dinner with friends, make myself a cake, tell my friends and family. We all deserve love and respect no matter what goes on. There’s nothing wrong with loving ourselves. We can show the same appreciation for a job well done as we would for a friend who accomplishes something great.


Like what you read? Want to have Kurt come talk to your group about belonging, loneliness, and mental health? Click here to contact him about speaking at your event.

I’m not a very competitive person. I don’t play sports and don’t care who wins big events like the Super Bowl or the NBA finals. Over the years my competitive nature has dwindled and gone extinct for the most part. There is an exception, though.
 
I realized in the past year that I am a competitive person when it comes to storytelling. I would never have guessed it, but when I go to storytelling contests, I want to do very well. I want the judges and crowd to like me. I put a lot of practice into my stories and try and sculpt them to be perfect.
 
Last fall I told a serious story about how a friend helped draw me out of a suicidal situation. I told it for The Moth and this particular event happened at a comedy club. The crowd was greater than any of the StorySlams in which I’d participated. I’ve talked about mental health at storytelling events quite often and gotten a good response. But that was from people who were in a lounge environment. These folks expected humor, given that this event was at a comedy club. While the stories didn’t have to be funny, I could tell the crowd wasn’t going to be on my side as I shared about a personal, deep subject.
 
When I finished, the scores came in and they were nowhere near what I hoped. I wasn’t going to win. It stung to not do as well as I hoped, but even more so because I had made myself vulnerable. I spoke in front of a bunch of strangers who were not my usual audience. I put personal feelings out there—deep ones that tied to some of the lowest parts of my life. Once I saw those scores, I left the venue. I felt dejected and hurt. All that practice and self-exposure and all I got were a few laughs and a crummy score.
 
Yet, in some ways, this is what my life has become: making myself vulnerable. Recently, I watched Brené Brown’s special on Netflix, The Call to Courage. In it she speaks of the effort it takes to be vulnerable and asks us to take on that challenge.

In our culture there is an idealization of the “loner.” The person who doesn’t need any friends and is okay with being on their own. They’re depicted as strong and don’t need support from anyone or anything. They have a sense of fortitude that can withstand all sorts of storms.
 
When I think of the loner what comes to mind is a romanticized figure like James Dean. Or, I’m reminded of this scene from Pee Wee’s Big Adventure:

When I speak with students, one of the things I tell them is that when they try and break free of loneliness, there are times they will fail. In fact, they may try many times to make connections with others, only to strike out the majority of the time.
 
But there is importance in itself in trying. It shows that we care and we still have an interest in making an effort. We haven’t given up and believe change can happen—that we will find a sense of belonging.
 
In making attempts to connect to others, it also teaches us what does—and doesn’t—work.
 
For years I thought the best way to meet people was to volunteer at non-profit organizations. I believed that I would find connections at a soup kitchen or homeless shelter. And while that may have been possible, I was ignoring the fact that there were likelier ways for me to find friends. I should’ve looked for those who had similar interests as me.
 
I didn’t have a guide to help me out of my loneliness, so I was making stabs in the dark. I was searching for anything that might work.
 
If I had been reflective, I would’ve seen that these failures were saying to me, “Kurt, you’re not going to find your connections through this avenue. Try something else.” And I’ve learned over the years that there are certain groups with whom I connect better than others.
 
It would be easy to see the inability to make friends as a sign that no one likes me. Instead, what I learned was narrowing down the areas in which I could find belonging. I didn't realize that at the time and I didn’t make an attempt to sit down and analyze what my interests are. Some might look at those times as failures. But now I look back and see them as part of the process by which I can find the communities with whom I have a connection.
 
For me, those include speakers, writers, and individuals who want to help people. I’m still open to other groups, but this is my starting point: those who are going through a similar journey as me, even if it’s not the exact same thing. It’s the best place to start. It’s the collective that I’m seeking.

What about you? Where have you looked and not found connections? Are there other groups you might seek out to develop community?

​
Like what you read? Want to have Kurt come talk to your group about belonging, loneliness, and mental health? Click here to contact him about speaking at your event.

If there was a team of individuals dropped into your life for five days and their goal was to improve various aspects of it, what would it look like for you?
 
That’s somewhat of the premise of the hit Netflix show, Queer Eye. I’ve always found these fixer-upper shows (whether it’s about people or a house) to be of interest, but something about Queer Eye got my attention.
 
One thing I like about this version of the show (it was on TV before with a different cast) is that it started in Atlanta, Georgia. The latest season (the third) took place in Kansas City, Missouri. I appreciate that the five gay men involved are going to places that may not have as much interaction with those in the LGBT community. The cast interacts with hunters and church-goers, those who aren’t wealthy, and those not from the ivory tower.
 
The five men (Antoni, Bobby, Jonathan, Tan, and Karomo) all address a different aspect of the life of an individual. Antoni helps teach them how to cook, often with an eye toward eating healthy. Bobby remodels their house or apartment, which is often a complete mess. Jonathan handles hair and makeup while Tan deals with clothes. Finally, Karomo works with their mental and emotional health.
 
One of the reasons I love the show so much is the personalities of the characters. They’re unique and fun but also sensitive. They're making the lives of others better, and that’s great to see, especially in a time when people are so quick to tear others down.
 
I also appreciate that their help often addresses mental health. So many people have found their lives beaten down due to not feeling good about themselves or their surroundings, what they eat or how they look. Queer Eye seeks to intervene and improve lives and in doing so can often address their mental health. The characters are sympathetic to the plight of their guests and that is very much needed when it comes to the area of mental health. Karomo, especially, has often intervened and helped others with their anxiety and depression. His calming presence is encouraging.
 
I’ve thought about what changes the Fab Five (as they’re also known) could make in my life. I’m bald and don’t have a beard, so I’m not sure Jonathan could be of much help in that regard, but my skincare routine could probably use some work. Generally my clothes are pretty good, although I wouldn’t turn down a paid shopping spree with Tan. Food-wise I know I could eat more veggies, so Antoni might be able to show me a few quick and easy ways to cook them and incorporate them into meals. Despite what I speak about, I’m interested in finding ways to make connecting with others easier, so I bet Karomo could help me with that. Finally, I’d love to see what Bobby would do with my apartment, although I think it’s in pretty good shape.
 
But that's just me. How would you like to see your life improved by the Fab Five? Are there any of the aspects they tackle that you can deal with on your own or with the help of friends?
 
 
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