​The road to becoming a speaker is tough. It’s something I explored for a little over a year now. It takes time to get your name out there and to book gigs. With the help of a lot of great people, I’ve learned the business side of the speaking world, which is something I would’ve never been able to pick up on my own. I made some good connections and I know I helped others.

Still, it’s been frustrating. I spend an hour or two each week on social media, promoting my blog posts. I spend the same amount of time writing those entries. I send out between 10 and 20 emails a week to orientation directors, activities departments, and counseling centers at schools. I follow up on those emails once or twice. Yet, I get little response. If schools do respond, they often don’t have the money to bring in mental health speakers. As I said in this post, schools do a great job of saying they want to help students with mental health, but not always putting their money where their mouth is. That’s not to say I expect them to spend cash on hiring me as a speaker, but generally, I don’t see the funding at schools for mental health programs.

The fact of the matter is that I quit a well-paying job over a year ago to focus on mental health speaking and it hasn’t brought in the income I hoped. I've had other work on the side to keep things going and perhaps I should give it more time—another six or twelve months.

But the reason I'm taking a break from speaking is that I came to realize something this past year. In my experiences with college students, my interest is in working with them in a direct manner. I had a lot of difficulty in college and grad school with my mental health. I very much want to work on a regular basis with such students in a university setting to help them work through their issues.

I’m ready to make another transition in my life. I’m going to graduate school for clinical social work. At this point, I’m not sure what graduate school I’ll attend. But, getting that degree will enable me to work at a college counseling center and help students on a daily basis.

For a long time I’ve wanted to do this work but I feared I would not enjoy it or lacked the patience needed. I remember how stubborn and difficult I was in my twenties. I recall how much grief I gave my therapists.

But I am more secure in myself now. I receive a lot of encouragement from my therapists, friends, and strangers who tell me I’d be a good therapist. I’ve matured to the point where I can handle a twenty-something version of myself. And I very much want to help people going through tough experiences.

I will leave my website up for the time being. The things I write about in this blog—loneliness, suicidality, anxiety, depression, and existential issues—are areas in which I will focus my practice. I’m very excited about the possibilities ahead. I'm also eager to utilize the passion I have to help others so they can deal with the mental health issues that I struggled with in the past. If I can help even one person, then it’s worth it. 

​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.

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.

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.

How does one go from feeling nervous about public speaking to presenting a 35 minute talk on loneliness? Should you accept the challenge of becoming a public speaker your experience will vary, but here are the steps I took.

In high school I was in a couple of plays but always had small roles—just a few lines. I sang for my friends’ hardcore punk band on occasion, too. It was a real rush to feel so many people with their eyes on me. After that my performing life went dormant for a long while.

In graduate school in 2009 and 2010 I began to present at academic conferences on my masters thesis subject—1970s Christian scare films. Despite small audiences (as is the case at almost all such events), I discovered I enjoyed being in front of others. I liked sharing information about a subject in which I had an interest.

In 2014 I decided to break myself out of a depressive spell by taking a stand-up comedy class. I have always enjoyed watching stand-up and thought that I could do it. I performed at about 15-20 open mics and did a showcase for my class, too. While I didn't take to the comedy scene, I did know I liked being on stage with people watching me. In such a situation, I found it created a nervous ball of energy and anxiety that pushed me to perform with great passion.

The next year, 2015, I looked into giving historical tours. I took a class through a non-profit that offers such tours and learned a bit more about the history of Boston. After six weeks I graduated a docent and began practicing. And practicing. And practicing. I walked my tour route in Boston's North End many times. I practiced out loud in my room. I followed nine different guides on their tours so I could see what they did. I gave three practice tours to friends. When my time finally came I did all right. It wasn't the best thing ever but I enjoyed it. As long as I felt comfortable with the material, it went okay.

After doing that tour for three years I started working for another company giving a different tour. I learned to handle horrible situations: down-pouring rain, bratty children, fist fights, and drug addicts around me as I tried to tell tales. These situations built character and resilience.

I started going to Toastmasters about this time, learning the fundamentals of giving speeches. I realized I already had most things down well. I used Toastmasters to try out some ideas, though, including my first speech on loneliness. After about a year I left, knowing that I had gotten what I could out of it.

During this same time I made a goal to enter one storytelling event. I practiced my story to my cat and my mirror a dozen times or more. And when it came to my first story slam, I won the audience choice award. For the second event, I entered I won the entire story slam! It's taken me years to work on my self-esteem but I can finally say that this is something at which I excel.

When it came to learning how to understand the speaking business and find gigs, I listened to The Speaker Lab. It's a podcast for speakers and those who want to speak. I also read a lot of articles. I took a copious amount of notes.

I've learned that moving in a stair-step approach—taking on things one at a time—is also helpful. I can't imagine going from no public speaking to giving a 35-minute presentation. But adding one challenge and then another enabled me to build confidence. I may not be the best public speaker but I'm doing what I can to share ideas and help some people along the way. It didn't happen over night but the journey has been well worth it.