I didn’t plan to say it...
I was at a concert, catching up with a friend when he asked, “Hey man, how’s it going?”
Before I could overthink it, I said, “Not great. My mental health isn’t great.”
I didn’t expect much. But his reply changed everything:
“Man, I know how you feel.”
That was the first time I had ever opened up about what I was going through and I didn’t even realize how much I needed it until the words were out.
That moment stuck with me. I think about it sometimes laying in bed.
Because the truth is, I wasn’t in crisis. I wasn’t falling apart.
I just… wasn’t okay. And for the longest time, I didn’t think that was a good enough reason to reach out.
In my video about who peer support is for, I shared a story of the first time I reached out for support. That’s a huge part of why I wrote this blog. To explore how you can seek support, even if you don’t feel like we deserve it.
If you’ve ever struggled with reaching out, felt like your problems weren’t “big enough,” or wondered whether support was meant for someone else… this is for you.
By the end of this post, you’ll walk away with:
Because support isn’t something you have to earn.
You’re allowed to ask for it, just as you are.
That moment at the concert (when I simply said, “I’m not great”) shattered years of belief that my struggle didn’t deserve attention.
Here’s the reality: stigma isn’t just out there it lodges right inside us.
According to the Canadian Mental Health Association, 60% of people with a mental health problem won’t seek help out of fear of being labeled. That’s more than half of people pausing at the doorstep, because saying the words feels too risky.
The stigma of asking that so many of us feel.
But here’s the relief: when you see that hesitation isn’t about your strength or lack thereof but about the story stigma has handed to you… that awareness is the first step toward letting it go.
When we talk about “seeking support,” it can sound like this big dramatic moment. A breakdown, a last straw, a call for help.
But that’s not what it usually looks like.
Sometimes, it’s just texting a friend to say you’re having a rough day.
Sometimes, it’s going to that drop-in group even if you don’t know what you’ll say.
Sometimes, it’s saying “not great” instead of “I’m fine” when someone asks how you’re doing.
Reaching is less about (if at all) knowing the right thing(s) to say. It's more about giving yourself permission to be seen, even just a little bit.
Ok, let’s start with the obvious:
There is no “one way” to reach out.
There’s no handbook, no degree, no perfect script to follow.
But there are a few things that can make it easier.
And no — I’m not an expert in anything other than my own experience.
That’s what I’m sharing with you today.
Whether you’re feeling stuck, unsure, or like your pain isn’t “serious enough,” here are a few things that have helped me (and the people I support) take that first step toward connection:
Let’s start with what I call “the two types of research” — internal and external.
This part is about checking in with yourself. Not just how you’re feeling, but who in your life feels safe enough to talk to. For me, this always starts with journaling (specifically, the “Who” section in this blog).
It helps me figure out who in my circle might be the right person for this particular conversation.
There are things I’d tell my best friend that I wouldn’t tell my partner.
There are things I’d tell my partner that I wouldn’t tell my parents.
There are things I’d say out loud to a stranger in a support group that I still haven’t told anyone close to me.
Internal research helps you feel out those boundaries before you reach out.
It helps you notice what you need and who might be able to offer it.
Once you’ve looked inward, it can help to look outward too.
You can literally sit down at your computer and run a quick search.
You can start broad, “mental health support in Calgary”, or go specific and add layers to your search like:
You might not find a perfect fit right away. But the act of looking — of seeing what’s out there — can remind you that you do have options.
You do deserve support that fits you.
You don’t have to leap into a deep heart-to-heart with someone on day one.
Sometimes the first step is just letting yourself be around support, without having to ask for it yet.
That’s how it started for me.
I’d been Googling things like “Why do I feel off all the time?” or “How do I cure depression.”
Eventually, that led me to YouTube videos, blog posts, and podcasts and discovering thoughts I hadn’t even considered.
It didn’t fix anything overnight, but it gave me language and helped me feel less alone.
From there, I worked my way "up".
I found a casual drop-in support group where I didn’t even speak the first few times.
Later on, I started working with a therapist.
I signed up for an 8-week meditation course.
And eventually, I started practicing peer support myself, first as someone receiving it, and later as someone offering it.
None of that happened all at once. It was one small step at a time. And every step gave me a little more confidence.
Start small. Start private. Start silent, if you have to.
What matters is that you’re starting.
This might be the most important piece of all.
Because no matter how much research you do or how slowly you ease into it, if you don’t believe you deserve support, you’ll find a way to talk yourself out of it.
I’ve been there. Even after I knew more of what was going on with me, even after I knew support could help, there was still this quiet voice in the back of my mind saying:
“Other people have it worse.”
“I’m probably just overreacting.”
“Don’t be dramatic.”
“You should be able to handle this.”
But support isn’t a reward for suffering the most.
It’s not something you have to earn.
It’s not a contest (shout out to the s**t Olympics).
You’re allowed to reach out because you want to feel better.
So if you’re sitting with that voice in your head right now, here are three small ways I practice self-compassion when it gets loud:
This is a simple three-step check-in I do when I’m struggling.
When I’m being hard on myself, I ask:
“If my best friend said this to me, would I say the same thing back?”
If the answer is no, I try to give myself the same grace.
Even just considering support is worth acknowledging.
Seriously.
You’re considering change. That’s something to honour.
For more on self-compassion check out Dr. Kristin Neff.
You don’t need to be in crisis to seek support. You just need a starting point.
Whether it’s reflecting, researching, or simply being kind to yourself, reaching out can feel less overwhelming when you break it down.
Support isn’t something you earn. It’s something you deserve.
But what do you think? How do you reach out for support? What do you practice to feel safe when doing so? Reach out to me on my channels and let me know!
If you know someone who could get value from this blog, feel free to share it and for more on peer support and mental wellness, check out all the content for free on my website - https://thejeffturner.ca/
Until next time, I'm Jeff.
Take care of yourself, however that looks to you!