​I started taking medication for my depression when I was in high school. I was in despair and often had extreme periods of sadness. At some point, I met at a McDonalds with a local pastor at whose house I often went to for a Bible study. I’m not sure why I decided to meet with him versus anyone else, but we talked about how down I felt and the thoughts that were in my head. I had great sadness and believed I’d never escape.
 
He spoke with my mom about my condition (with my permission) and I remember she cried and I felt awkward and embarrassed for causing her to feel that way. The pastor suggested I see my family doctor and my mom agreed.
 
My doctor asked me questions about my emotional state and prescribed Zoloft, a drug that can help combat depression. I took it for many months; it made me sleep a lot, but not too much. At some point I stopped taking it, but I don’t remember why. Perhaps I felt better and thought that meant I didn’t need it anymore.
 
In college I once again found myself very depressed and in my junior year the therapist I saw in the counseling center suggested medication. I picked up with Zoloft once more but it didn’t seem as effective as in high school. I was still depressed, and even more so than in my teen years.
 
When I graduated college in 2001 I began to see a psychiatrist and therapist in my hometown when I went to live with my parents. We realized Zoloft wasn’t working and thus began an array of different medications. I can’t even recall which ones I took but I’d guess there were at least six or eight. I’d take them for six weeks or so and if they weren’t helping my psychiatrist would either change the dosage or find a new medication.
 
With these medications came a myriad of side effects: too much sleep, too little sleep, weight gain, itchiness, decreased sex drive, and so on. Some medications compensated for the side effects of the other medications. I hated how they made me feel.
 
I loathed that I would have to be on medication for what I imagined would be the rest of my life. I wrote in my journal about how medications were a scam created by pharmaceutical companies to make money. I believed they stifled my creativity and emotions. I didn’t want to take them, but I wanted free of my depression even more.

Eventually, I found medications that helped with my depression, at least enough to keep me stable. Still, things weren’t quite right. I still had anxiety (which predates my depression) and the sadness would still hang around. It became exacerbated by environmental situations such as my job, the weather, and relationships.

Since 2011 my medications have been stable: Celexa and Lamictal (or their generic equivalents). I take them every morning and will likely do so for the rest of my life. Some people find a reliance on medication to be abhorrent. Yet there are people who take medications for their blood pressure or diabetes every day with no criticism. My medications are no different just because they’re for my brain.

Should I go off my medication at some point? I suppose I could try (with my doctor's help), but things are going okay in my life, so I’d like to keep the status quo.

There are days I forget to take them—usually a handful of times a year—and it hits me later in the day. Something usually feels a bit off. And a part of me hates that some tiny pills can have that much control over me. But after being on meds for about 20 years I’ve come to a point of acceptance. These are what keep me going and keep me alive. It’s the way it is.

Medications aren’t for everyone and going on or off of them is something that should be part of a discussion with a doctor or psychiatrist. Yet, if it weren’t for my medication it's quite possible I’d be dead. I remember what life was like without them and it was dark and painful. I’m happy to be a slave to my medication. We don't know the long-term effects of a lifetime of anti-depressant or anti-anxiety use. But the way I see it, I’ve had a much longer life than I may have otherwise had I not been on the medications. That may sound dark to some, but it’s something I truly believe.

So even if my brain turns to mush when I’m sixty, I’m okay with that. My meds have helped me live a better life and I have no shame in being a slave to the little pills I take each morning.
 
 
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.

Where do you fall on the Myers Brigg test when it comes to being an introvert or extrovert? I’ve taken the test a few times and always fell in the introvert camp. There’s no question about it.
 
Introverts are often tagged as being very disinterested in being social. It’s something I believed for a long time. I thought my time as an introvert meant a life of few friends and the relationships I had were to be deep and life-long. It’s an idea that kept me from wanting to make more fruitful relationships because I figured, “Well, I have the friends I have, and what’s the point in making more?”
 
The past year or so I’ve taken an interest in meeting new people. A lot of it has to do with a desperate attempt to build connections of any sort. I want to develop intimate relationships with others—meaningful friendships. So I cast my net wide and am trying to say “yes” to more gatherings because one never knows who one might meet somewhere. If nothing else, I’ve met interesting people from all over the world who lead unique lives that can sometimes teach me things. That can be anything from a lead to a good restaurant or a new podcast to check out.
 
I’ve also started doing work where I interact more with the public and students. This may not always mean friendships with individuals. Yet I realize that when I’m interacting with others in a social manner, I often forget whatever is plaguing my thoughts at the time. When I’m focused on being social and learning about that other person, all thoughts of depression and loneliness will go away. I’m left with only that interaction and my interest in it and the other person.
 
So, my newfound social nature is born out of necessity (a desire to develop relationships and stave off loneliness). It's also born because I find it interesting to learn from others and form connections with them, even if they’re very brief.
 
Yet what causes me to remain an introvert is that I need solitude to recharge. I desire alone time to process my life and experiences. It’s where I’m renewed. But what has been appealing to me is to learn that being an introvert doesn’t mean I can’t be social or meet a lot of people. It doesn’t mean I can’t be charismatic. It only means that from time to time I need to be alone and recharge in that manner.
 
What about you? Are you an introvert or an extrovert? Where do you find you gain your energy? From people or away from people? Where is that line for you?


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 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.


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.

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.
 
 
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.

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.
 
 
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.