​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.
 
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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.