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?
 
 
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.

What’s it like to speak to others about this topic that I’ve made so key in my life? Allow me to give you an idea what it was like to speak at an Active Minds chapter at a university in Boston. Active Minds is a mental health group on hundreds of universities around the United States and Canada. Their focus is students ages 14-25 and they began in 2001. They’re the most well-known mental health group that works with students on college campuses.

I never know how many people will be at an Active Minds talk. The lives of college students are busy. Sometimes there may be five people and other times thirty-five. It’s always hard to say. I set expectations low and force my mind to acknowledge as a reality that there will be four or five folks there. I will make it intimate and relaxed—more conversational. But I also am aware of what I should do if there are many more students than just a handful.

I was pretty excited when I showed up to this particular gig to find approximately twenty-five students sitting in the classroom.
 
I brought up my PowerPoint presentation. I try not to have too many slides—enough to reinforce primary points.

And then I set in to share my own story of dealing with loneliness in college and how I found myself in that position because of my mental health issues. I stopped at one point in the middle to ask some students their thoughts on why their age group (18-22 year olds) has some of the highest rates of loneliness. They came up with good responses that left me impressed—this was a very self-aware group of individuals.
 
I followed this up by explaining things they could do to help with their loneliness. There are tools they might use to get out of it should they find themselves in that situation.
 
When my presentation was over I took some questions from the audience. There were good responses from everyone, including asking how I got into speaking about mental health. I was also asked why I suggested volunteering as a good means to make connections.
 
Afterward I spoke with a few students and handed out my contact info. I find speaking with students one-on-one to be my favorite part of the evening. I am always curious how they connect to what I shared. I’m also interested in getting a pulse on what is happening amongst a group of individuals to which I am so passionate to speak to.

Every speaking gig is a little different because human beings are unique. But on the whole, that’s what it’s like to speak on the subject of loneliness to university students. It takes a lot of time and practice but it’s worth it. Why? Because what I’ve said can have a positive effect on others. Also, the responses I receive afterward, both in person and through messages, are encouraging. These responses give me a sense of purpose and drive to help me continue with living my life to help others.

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 turned forty. Not too long ago I was speaking with a friend about milestone birthdays, the ones after we hit twenty-one and which start a new decade of our lives. Some people like to make a big deal about these birthdays. They use turning thirty, forty, or fifty to reflect on where they’ve been in the past ten years and to look ahead at the next decade.
 
Many individuals like to celebrate these experiences with a large gathering of friends and family, or a big trip. Perhaps they take this opportunity to buy themselves something nice. After all, you only turn forty once!

This is an important milestone for many, but it’s hard for me to approach the declaration of this new decade as any different than others. The reason is simple: I’m a survivor of many attempts to take my life.

But what does that have to do with celebrating birthdays? Quite a bit, actually. There is something about trying to kill myself that caused me to change my outlook on life. Once I was through the darkest years of my psyche, I realized that it was somewhat amazing I was even alive.

When I was in high school I couldn’t imagine going to college. I didn’t see a future for myself. In college I couldn’t see what lay beyond that time. And I couldn’t contemplate that I would be alive at thirty. After my second suicide attempt in 2011 when I was 32, I had to confront the fact that I would be around quite a while. And that meant life had to take on a different meaning.

Over the past eight years that has meant learning to understand what it is I want to do with my life. In my case it means helping those who have gone through similar experiences as mine. We can all use some guidance from those who have undergone times like the ones we’re battling.

From the point of my second suicide attempt onward, I realized that life was going to keep happening. I would continue to get older. I could see the possibility of me living to be eighty or even ninety. Thus, every year I turn older, whether it’s thirty-eight or forty, has been an unexpected surprise. I never thought I’d be here. So certain years don’t have a particular meaning for me. It’s all icing on the cake in a life I never expected to live. But now that I’m here, I’m trying to do my best to make it worthwhile and helpful for others.

We've all made it through tough experiences. Utilizing that time in our lives can give us a sense of purpose and direction as we help others undergoing the same thing. What are your difficult life experiences? How can you use those to aid others who might be going through similar situations?


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 scary to put one’s story out there. To really put it out there. When a blog post goes up, it feels as though it’s a drop in the bucket in the sea of personal opinions that comprise the world wide web.
 
But, I shared my story in a book that came out in March of this year titled Lemonade Stand, Volume 2. It’s a short essay of about 1000 words. But it’s a good summary on how I went from a depressed individual to someone who now helps others through my speaking and writing about mental health. And now it’s out there and it’s permanent in print. People I don't know will be able to hold my writing, put it on their bedside table, and have it on hand for years to come. The spine of the book will stare at them from their shelf.
 
The editor of the book, Josh Rivedal, approached me in 2018. I reached out to him earlier in the year asking about guidance for getting into the mental health speaking realm. We corresponded and spoke on the phone and he gave me some good tips and explained how he broke into the field.
 
I wrote my essay and went back and forth with some edits with Josh before finally getting the content settled. I also wrote a short bio. Then I forgot about the book, or at least put it in the back of my mind, as it was going to be many months until it came out.
 
Then, in February of this year, it arrived in the mail. I read what I wrote. It was months since I had seen it. I was happy with how it turned out and how well I felt it expressed my experiences. I read the other writers' stories. Like me, they all took experiences that some might say were bad or difficult and turned them around. I found many to be inspiring. I hoped my tale did the same.
 
I reached out to my hometown newspaper and got an article written about me and the book. I never thought I’d have an article about myself printed in the paper in whose pages I read comics as a kid. Now people in my past were going to know about my experiences with mental health and depression and being in a hospital for attempting to take my life. It’s daunting to put out your faults and failures for all to look at, especially those who know you from your past.

So why did I do this? I believe in my message. I believe things can get better for people. And I know the best way to help others is to share my own message.

Truth and honesty are some of the most important values in my life. Being authentic with others in the hope I can help them is something I admire. So it’s something I’ve sought to do.

As I wrote at the beginning—it’s scary to do this. But I know that it will help others. I know it has helped others. If you’re reading this, know that you don’t have to be a mental health advocate and become a full-time speaker to make a difference in the lives of others. You can start in a simple way—be honest and true with those around you. What would that look like? How can you use your experiences with mental health or loneliness or any other issue that gives you difficulty and use that to help others?


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 proposal has come forth that a pill might be developed to deal with the symptoms of loneliness. As one of the researchers on the work suggested, the “goal is not to make people stop feeling lonely altogether, but to interfere with the ways loneliness affects the brain and body.”
 
I can understand the idea of wanting to tackle the physical affects of loneliness as they can be quite harmful. It can make us more susceptible to cognitive decline, cardiovascular problems, and cancer. These are topics worthy to address and find ways to handle.
 
I have my doubts about medications, though. That’s not to say I’m against medication at all. While I do take pills to handle my anxiety and depression, it’s because there is a chemical imbalance in my brain. It’s something I cannot change.
 
Yet there are mechanisms available to handle loneliness. These include utilizing the EASE method. Focusing on social skills needed to develop connections seems far more appropriate in addressing loneliness. Also, in utilizing social skills there wouldn't be possible side effects which often come with medication.
 
There's no doubt loneliness has physical side effects. Yet it's possible the nature of the problem is more with a mental health issue that can come about because of prolonged periods of being alone. A pill to address loneliness may be missing the real issues, which relate more to mental health concerns. Such conditions are treatable through therapy, medications or a combination thereof. In conjunction with learning social skills needed to make connections, undesired effects of loneliness can be overcome.
 
I’m curious to see more research on the subject, but at this point seeking out a pill to “cure” the physical aspects of loneliness seems to be missing the underlying issues of the situation. 

​“Is it possible I’m unlikeable? Perhaps it’s my personality and behavior that causes no one to want to share my company.” That was a nagging thought during my times of loneliness. Yet I came to find out that wasn’t the case. What I was feeling was the stigma often associated with loneliness rather than the reality of the situation.

The reality was that I was having a hard time connecting with others. And that was because I didn’t know how to go about making connections.
 
Today it seems as though people are more willing to admit to a mental health issue such as depression or anxiety than they are that they are lonely. The judgment I had toward myself when I was lonely kept me from reaching out to others for fear of stigmatization. The fact that I couldn’t reach out to others for help out of a fear of judgment made me feel worse. I believed I should be able to get free of the feelings of loneliness I had.
 
This inability to free myself of loneliness goes back to feelings of self-sufficiency that many of us carry in Western culture. It’s based on an idea of pulling one’s self up by their boot straps and working things out on our own. This idea of self-sufficiency is that it's seen as weakness to need help. Indeed, as the late Professor John Cacioppo said in an article from a 2016 story from The New York Times: “The very word 'lonely' carries a negative connotation…signaling social weakness, or an inability to stand on one’s own.”
 
So what can we do about this stigma? As with most issues, it’s important that people who are suffering from this issue speak up. If we share that we are experiencing loneliness, it's easier for others to feel comfortable sharing their troubles. It’s one of the reasons I talk about this through my speaking and writing.
 
Also, bringing attention to the issue as a society is helpful. Directing funds to research and public programs can be of great help in showing individuals how to break free from the grips of loneliness. Education on methods by which one can find connections would go a long way to break down the stigma.
 
At the close of my talk on loneliness I say the same thing: “You’re not alone in feeling lonely.” It’s so important to remind others of that in the hopes that those few words can make a difference to break down stigma. It's a stigma that keeps so many from receiving the help they need to find connections.

“Just get out there.”

“Meet people.”

​“Be social.”
 
If you’re a depressed or lonely person, I’m sure you’ve heard these kinds of statements. It sounds simple enough. But for those in the depths of loneliness or suffering from mental illness, acting on such statements seems like an insurmountable challenge.
 
On the face of it, socializing with others sounds like a good suggestion. It can (and most often does) make us feel better to interact with others. If we are feeling down, socialization can help us take our minds off of whatever is bothering us at the time.
 
Yet, with the depressed person, it seems as though the feeling of escape from one’s problems doesn’t come with much relief afterward. When the conversation ends and both parties go their own way, thoughts of worthlessness and self-doubt can return.
 
A study by the University of Michigan revealed that people with depression don’t get as much long-term comfort from social interactions as those who aren’t depressed.
 
So, socialization is important! It’s part of who we are as human beings. And it’s something we should include in our lives for better mental health.
 
But if it’s so hard for depressed people to get together with others, how can one make it easier for one’s self?
 
What’s key to feeling comfortable with socialization and having it create joy in your life is receiving treatment. This can take many different forms including medication, therapy, or positive psychology techniques.
 
Treatment is critical when one is handling mental health issues. As one would seek physical therapy for back issues, mental health treatment can lead to improvements in mood. By taking medication and going to therapy, I’ve learned to learn to be more comfortable with social settings. It’s not easy in large group settings, but it has gotten better over the years.
 
Thanks to the time and work I’ve put in, I am now in a place where socialization is more meaningful and appreciated. And in that way, my times of socialization have helped me with the times that depression affected me. Those connections get me in tune with that part of me that needs to be around my peers and to feel accepted by part of a group. It’s a lot of effort but one that has helped me greatly in dealing with my depression.

​I’ve always lived in cities or suburban areas. It’s not been intentional, but it's where the jobs are or my friends live.
 
I’ve lived in big cities since 2006 and enjoy the realm of opportunities. I’ve often thought about residing in rural settings, though.
 
There’s something desirous about living amongst nature and with few neighbors. I've always had an emotional connection to rural settings and enjoy the solitude (not to be confused with loneliness).
 
My grandparents lived on a farm in rural Indiana all their lives and there were times I contemplated buying their house when they passed on. I thought it would be great to live amongst rows of corn and soybeans, have time to write, and practice some hobby.
 
I spent time in their nearby town, though, and realized the attitudes of people weren’t quite the same as mine. Confederate flags were flown and life focused on farming, something of which I have no understanding. I'd be hard pressed to find a good vegetarian meal. Still, there was something to this idea of living apart and away from others.
 
I currently live in Boston and today I gravitate to the idea of moving to rural New England. I’d still like to work on my writing and develop some hobby, maybe have a kid and be a stay-at-home dad. Rural New England could be a nice mixture of my values, a connection to the environment, and an occasional vegetarian meal at a restaurant.
 
I think about what my loneliness would do if I didn’t live near others, though. That might spur me to become closer with the few neighbors who were within a mile of me. It's also likely I'd take part in activities in the town nearest to where I lived. It may be that living in a rural setting would be all I needed to develop those relationships I lack. From research I’ve seen, it appears loneliness affects everyone, whether we’re in the city or the country.

I’ve had many opportunities to make connections with people in the city. Yet, given the plethora of folks to choose from, I tend to find myself more picky than I would be if I was in a rural setting. And if I found myself in a place where I had no one else from which to choose to connect.

So it's possible I would find connections easier if I moved to rural New England or my grandparents’ farm. Or perhaps it’s more important I work at building community, no matter where I am. I love both rural and urban settings in equal amounts.
 
Thus, it’s a trade off of the simplicity and quiet of the rural areas with the number of opportunities available in the city. We don’t always get to choose but both can provide experiences of loneliness and social isolation. Yet both are also capable of building connections. In the end, I suppose it's important for me to always be making an effort no matter where I find myself. 

In high school I was a conflicted person. I found myself torn apart by a desire to do good and be a well-behaved kid, one who pleased his parents and teachers. At the same time I was angry and irritable. I grew frustrated with others often. Amongst the students at my school and my church I was a black sheep. I was into punk rock and the lifestyle it led, minus the drinking and drugs. But I dressed the part. I acted tough and indifferent.

I found myself not in any huge trouble, but got kicked out of my fair share of classes due to speaking back to the teachers. At first I felt guilty for my actions but suppressed those feelings because I was so angry at everyone and everything.
 
I didn’t realize at the time that my anger and frustration was in part a result of being a teenager. It was also in part from my depression and irritability. I didn’t know how to express myself and everything I felt. I didn’t feel as though there was anyone I could speak with about what I was going through.
 
In my college years I stuck out like a sore thumb. I went to a conservative, Christian college. Although I identified myself as a Christian at that time, my sense of humor, style of dress, and attitude aligned with punk values caused me to stick out.
 
The story of everything that occurred between then and now is long. And I can’t point to only one or two experiences which changed my way of being. I now dress like a lot of other people, although I eschew trends and high fashion. I’m as comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt as anything else.
 
What I’ve discovered is the best way to stick out and set yourself apart as a radical is to show kindness and empathy. So many people are drowning in hate, frustration, and anger. Loving others who frustrate you is a radical notion.
 
Especially in the age in which we live, taking time to listen to others will set you apart. It will cause you to draw attention more than someone with a pink mohawk that is a foot tall or if you have piercings all over your face. It takes physical strength to endure a tattoo or piercing. But putting one’s self out there for sustained periods of emotional challenges is fierce and not easy.
 
So why do I go this route? Because the payoff is remarkable. And because I’ve learned that being rude and talking back to people feeds on itself. It solves nothing and leads to no progress. It strikes with the fist and crushes others. But showing dedication and love to others can make lives better and cause others to smile, hope, and live to their fullest.

Some aim to live in power, lording themselves over others. My goal is to show humility. It’s a wonderful path to take to be this kind of black sheep, and something far better than any type of outcast I may have been in high school.