When the village fails, we're all to blame
Hubby didn’t put his breathe-right strip on and I lost count on how often his snoring woke me up. So I feel a little crabby this morning. Will finish this and get dressed and walk the dog down to the river. Baseball tournament with my son is later today, so much to do.
I let myself get sucked into stupid arguing with stupid people regarding the Colorado Dark Knight Rises massacre. A friend of mine was shocked and upset - as our most reasonable people. He was calling for the world to change and asked where the changes needed to be. I said, taking care of one another, especially dropping the stigma around mental health care. I contend (and said as much) that a nation that spends more on war and war machines and prisons than it does on education and health care - to include mental health - is asking for tragedies like this. Unfortunately he has a few stupid and ignorant friends. I also called her on using the word pussy. I hate that one just about as much as I hate wussy. No one understands words like a writer, I feel. And people use words - and I’m not talking about language evolution, although much slang has its foundation in that - but I’m talking about word choice and how it affects our social views. Especially if that human happens to be of the sheeple variety. Back in the day people thought saying the word nigger was okay, too. That to be offended by it was making a mountain out of a mole hill. Still today, people use the word gay or faggot as a pejorative. I catch my kids’ friends all the time saying “gay” negatively and they hear it from me each time. Oftentimes no one has ever told them it was offensive. It makes them think. Thinking is the first step to maturing and evolving as a person. Unfortunately so many folks are so wrapped up in “I’m right and I have the right to feel I’m right” attitude that they can’t see universal, evident truths. And here is the truth: Anyone who would commit such an atrocity against the sanctity of life is not in their right mind. How did they get there? Well, let me tell you. They got there because having a mental health issue is seen as being weak, or less-than. If you’re a man, that stigma is 100-times worse. Couple that with some of the worst healthcare in the “developed” world, one where insurance companies make decisions and not the medical doctors. Where things like meditation are seen as something silly and only used by old hippie peace freaks (oh, if I’m an old hippie peace freak, so be it). Where, as I said earlier, you spend more on prisons than on the education system. Where war is glorified and peace is seen as freakish. Where guns are looked at as powerful and being a social advocate is seen as chasing good energy after bad. Mix it all together - you have Thursday evening’s tragedy.
Was I surprised that when the authorities called the shooter’s mother she was not surprised. I was not shocked that she said, “You have the right man.” No. As the mother of a mentally ill 16 year old male (because my 27 year old daughter has mental illness, but I’m more worried about her illness making her harm herself as opposed to others, which says much about different types of mental illness and how hormones affect as well), I can tell you about the nightmares that his illness will make him harm others. I work, worry and use every waking hour some days to do nothing but help him be OK. Was I surprised when there was an uproar about her words and people were like “Why didn’t she do anything? Why didn’t she get him care?” No, I wasn’t surprised there was an uproar. I feel that pressure. Because, people always want to blame. But, the truth is folks, he was a grown man. It’s hard enough with the laws to get my 16-yr-old care. As he gets older, if I haven’t instilled some sort of external motivation that brings about internal motivation to take care of himself, I can’t guarantee he’ll be getting the mental health care he needs. That is my ultimate nightmare. Think about parents who have diabetic children. Type I. They were born with it, much as my son was. If when they go off on their own and live independently and they don’t watch their sugars or take care of themselves the way they did while under the care of their parents…is it the parents’ fault? I’ve even had conversations with the sheriff here in town, to ask - if my son has a psychotic break (something the combination of his issues could allow) - can I call you for assistance. The only assistance they can provide is to take him to jail. Which is NOT where my son would need to go. So that puts it on me to get him to the psych-ward at the hospital. 6’2”, 185 pounds of pure BMX biking muscle. It’s up to me. Because, simple odds are that I would be home alone with him. And when things get bad for him, he rages. Rages so hard and mostly against the world. But then at the hospital, what will happen. While he’s still a minor, I have hope, because the care for psych issues for children in the area are handled by children’s hospital. But once he is 18, that all changes. And it’s ugly out there folks. There’s no good system of care in my area, and I actually have some choices, they just aren’t good ones. In other areas of the country, it’s more bleak. The laws try to protect the individual, which I agree should be the focus, but that also means that those who really need help, as adults, have no means of checks and balances. I certainly as a parent, will have little say in the care of my son (except what maternal influence I might be able to apply, and when he’s having an episode - I hold little sway and I probably hold the most in his life). So to blame that poor woman for the actions of her mentally ill son is putting the blame on the wrong person.
The blame belongs, as I’ve said before during other tragedies of such nature, with us as a society. Our societal view on mental health care and our lack of funding towards general healthcare is where this all starts. Gun laws and more prisons and all of that, won’t do to combat this. Taking care of each other. Supporting those that are the most affected by mental illness. We give respite care to families of children who have cerebal palsy or down’s syndrome. Do we look at families who are constantly caring for a mentally ill child? Nope, never. Because it’s all looked at as fake or weak or like the parent did something wrong. Unseen means unreal. If my child were walking with a cane or in a wheelchair, the reaction would be different. But I get little mini versions of hell - to the tune of three a day - every day. His siblings and stepfather, too. But, I shield them from that, because as a mother, you have that heightened sense of responsibility. You carried this child for nine months within your own body. He is a part of you. So you keep trying. Are there moments you feel you can’t go on? Like it’s healthier to give up? Yes. It’s normal to be in combat against something you have no control over and is unseen to finally say, “I give up.” But that is only momentary. I don’t know for sure, but I can fully imagine that this mother called and checked in on her son in college. To check on his stress level. To try to influence him to make good choices. To take care of himself. Does she have any “authority” to make him do those things. No. But she likely tried. And when you become a mother - they don’t hand you your baby and say, “Oh this one is special needs. All those parent books you read - just throw them out the window.” No, your parental book shelf becomes the DSM, the Physician’s desk reference, books on neuro-feedback, dealing with an explosive child, blah blah blah
I’m rambling now. But my point is parenting is hard. Parenting someone who is mentally ill requires near superhuman capacity. Alas, I know no superhumans. Only parents who love, dream, pray, love, meditate, advocate and hope that it will all turn out well in the end.
However, sometimes it doesn’t.
My thoughts and meditations today are with the shooter's and victim’s Moms. I am holding them in the light, and in so doing, renew my vow to do all I can to make a positive impact on my own son’s life and the life of everyone I interact with.
Life is impermanent. There is no security. Right now is the moment that counts. In this moment, I choose love and caring.
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