People in my family don't talk about my Uncle Donnie. He was the youngest of all Grandpa's brothers. He served in Vietnam. Then he came back, possibly shot a bunch of people (the story is fuzzy here), and killed himself in his garage (the story is decidedly less fuzzy on this point). My dad was about six.
When I was younger, the only way my dad
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wow.
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Maybe politics does have something to do with it, but more than anything I think it's that as a culture we struggle between notions of personal responsibility and social responsibility. You know, I love the idea of personal responsibility. But I think if we don't take the trouble to find out what made someone how they are and why they did whatever the hell they did, we are disregarding their humanity that is unconscienable. To dismiss someone as "damaged" instead of "ill" or "struggling" is just a way to deny any responsibility we as a culture have towards the people that for whatever reason are struggling, whether it's some internally-spawned hurt like a mental illness or an external one like, say PTSD.
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