One Brave Word
by Tanner Olson
writtentospeak.com

Subject: Help

Message: Hi Tanner, I am mentally, emotionally, and spiritually drained. I am sooo down, out of words, and feel so disappointed with myself. I don't know who to turn to. I don't know to whom I should reach out. I've been battling with mental instability for 2 years now and I've been holding on quite a while. The feeling of ending it all yet clinging on to hope. I just don't know. Why am I even brought into this world? How I wish there'd be no tomorrow for me?

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Hello!

One of my classes in college was about Christian Care. On Tuesdays and Thursdays we would gather in a classroom in the upstairs of an old building. From what I heard the school was formerly a Roman Catholic nunnery. I’m not sure what that has to do with this story, but it’s what came to mind. Sometimes you just have to write down what comes to mind, you know? Our classroom was plain. There wasn’t anything flashy or beautiful about it. There was a podium for the professor and tables with chairs for the students. There wasn’t anything hanging on the walls. Not even a laminated poster of a cat hanging onto a tree branch with the words, “Hang in there!” The room was lit by three windows overlooking a parking lot. On the other side of the parking lot was beautiful Lake Michigan.

Most nights during my freshman year I’d walk down to the lake and watch the waves roll in. I’d leave my phone in my dorm room and seek the peace of another passing day. One by one the stars would begin to shine. With every new star I would feel the weight fall of my shoulders. Tiny reminders that I was here and that I was alive and that the light always finds a way. My first year of college I was terribly depressed and homesick. I wanted to go home. I wanted to be held. I wanted life to look different than it was. I wanted to feel different than how I was feeling. I wanted to be anywhere other than where I was.

But where I was was where I needed to be.

Something I’ve come to believe is that you cannot help how you feel. Feelings give us messages and insights into what’s going on deep down inside of us. They are meant to be honored and not ignored. Feelings come and they go. Sometimes they are unwelcome guests, staying longer than you’d like. Sometimes we accidentally give them more power than we should. That first year of college I let my feelings lead the way, putting my faith in the passenger seat. If you’re looking for a way to exhaust yourself, this is the way to do it.

Once a week in our Christian Care class we would team up with a classmate and practice caring for the needs of another. Our professor would pair us up in groups of two, just like Noah did with the animals. One student would be assigned the role of the caregiver and the other would be on the receiving end of the care. We’d be handed a slip of paper that detailed the life of the one in who was in need of care. Sometimes they were struggling with mental health or the death of a loved one or financial burden or uncertainty. Sometimes they were just sad. Sometimes they didn’t know what they were feeling, but they knew they were feeling too much. 

One of things I remember from the Christian Care class was to make space for the things you wish were not present.
The hurt.
The questions.
The trauma.
The fear.
The thoughts.
The feelings.

Oftentimes we don’t want to bring all of ourselves to the table. We want to hide things away from the light. I used to believe I was being brave by putting on a smiling face and telling others that I was doing just fine. But lying or hiding is not brave. It’s hurtful.

And I was hurting myself by pretending everything was okay when everything wasn’t okay. 

I’ve since come to learn that it’s a brave thing to bring your full self. To show up and say, “This is me and this is what life is like for me.”

Again and again our professor would encourage us to slow down and be present. He would tell us that the most important thing was what was happening right in front of us.
The individual.
The conversation.
The vulnerability.
The sharing.
The questions.
The listening.
The processing.
The silence.
The moment.

Another thing I remember from the course was that there was often never a time for you to respond to the story of another with the words, “I know exactly what you are going through.” Because the truth is, we all go through things differently. We even go through similar things differently.

I share all of that to say …

I don’t know what you’re been through or are going through.
I don’t know what feelings and emotions you’re holding.
I don’t know what questions you’re asking and what answers you’re clinging to.

But I do know that you said the hardest word there is to say: help.

What a brave thing it is to ask for help.

You are brave.

I am not a counselor or a therapist.

I’m just a writer who feels and thinks too much.

When I read your email I dropped everything and began to type.

There are a thousand different words I could write and stories that I could tell.
There are a few poems I would share with you.
Like this poem titled Stay and this poem titled I’ve Never Seen a Moose in the Wild.
And if we were sitting across from each other I’d look you in the eyes and tell you what a friend told me last year: I hate this for you.

Like you I was going through something and said, “Help.”

I didn’t want to say it, but I did.

When he told me that he hated this for me, I felt the same way I felt when I would sit on the shore of Lake Michigan and watch the stars come out.

I also want to tell you what I often need to hear:
There is room for you here.
You are not a burden and you are not unwanted.
You are not forgotten and you are not too much.
There is room for you here.

This is what I imagine Jesus saying to me when I am overwhelmed by the weight of my world.

When you begin to believe life is not the way it should be, may you create space.
Create space for waiting.
Create space for not knowing.
Create space for change.
Create space for therapy.
Create space for mystery.
Create space for prayer.
Create space for grief.
Create space for miracles.
Create space for beauty.
Create space for hope.
Create space, for today is today, but today is not forever.

The way life is, is not the way it will always be.

We were made to change with the changes, just like we were made to stand beneath the stars.

Just like we were made to listen to the waves roll in.  Just like we were created to ask for help and ask for it again.

Today is today and tomorrow is on its way.

There is room for you.

There will always be room for you.

With hope,

Tanner Olson
@writtentospeak

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About the Author

Tanner Olson is an author, poet, speaker, and podcaster living in Nashville, Tennessee.

He is the author of I’m All Over the Place, As You Go, Walk A Little Slower, and Continue: Poems and Prayers of Hope.

You can find Tanner Olson’s books on Amazon.

His podcast is The Walk A Little Slower Podcast with Tanner Olson and can be found wherever you listen to podcasts.

Tanner Olson travels around the country sharing poetry, telling stories, and delivering messages of hope.

You can follow Tanner Olson on Instagram (@writtentospeak) and Facebook where you’ll daily find encouraging words of faith and hope.