by Irene Daniel
Another year has come and gone and another chunk of our future with it; up in the smoke of guns and insanity. What a deadly duo. And I think it is important to discuss them together for neither guns nor insanity alone can be this deadly without the other.
In the year since we lost 24 of the most adorable first graders, an additional 194 children have died of gunshot wounds here in the home of the brave and the land of the free. 194 high school graduations that won't happen. 194 sets of parents who will never hold their baby's baby as happy grandparents. And 194 sets of grandparents who are devastated at the thought of burying their baby's baby. A lot can happen in a year.
I remember where I was when I heard of the massacre of those children. I was on my way home from my first appointment with my therapists, a session which opened my soul a little, and started to let in the light. And then I turned on the radio in my car, only to be horrified at the thought of a mentally and emotionally deranged individual taking out all of his pain on cute little first-graders. I was relieved to finally be taking action that was steering me away from my own darkness, and towards a new light. I was grateful to be attending to my own mental and emotional health, after neglecting them for so long, as I swam in a sea of denial about the reality and severity of my illness.
It's taken more than a year for me to recover from a breakdown, an emotional and mental collapse, that took the legs out from under me and took me completely out of the game. I am neither ashamed, nor proud of this fact; it just is. I must accept it, and accept myself for who I am -- warts, nervous breakdowns, and all. And I know that I must share my story of survival and victory, for I am not alone in my suffering. There are many, many, too many people out there suffering alone and terrified; afraid of themselves and their perceived inadequacies.
You see, mental illness is a fatal disease. It kills people; and those whom it doesn't kill, it leaves emotionally and spiritually maimed. Mental illness and addiction have killed people in my family. My maternal grandmother, for whom I am named, killed herself by ingesting rat poison at the age of 52, in the throws of menopause. My mother was an undiagnosed and untreated paranoid schizophrenic. On my father's side of the family there are other examples of mental illness and addiction issues that destroyed the fabric of our family unity, and left our family hearth cold and dark.
And I know that I am not alone in these circumstances. However, for most of us, it is the denial of this internal dis-ease that serves up calamitous consequences. It took me a long time to admit that I needed help and then it took more time to actually get help; take medication as directed, get therapy, whatever is indicated.
And here is where the self-loathing, guilt and procrastination puts us on the merry-go-round of chaos and denial. Depression and its side-effects look a lot like sloth, especially to those who, either do not suffer from the disease of depression, or who are also themselves in denial of their own dis-ease. This perceived sloth leads to greater feelings of guilt, to fear, to more denial and isolation. At least that's how it's been for me this past year. Had I not sought treatment when I finally did, I'd probably be dead by now. I didn't want to live in this world anymore, and I was too afraid to ask for help until it was too late to save my law practice, and almost too late to save myself.
My problems started long ago, as the result of multiple childhood traumas that went undiagnosed and untreated for decades. In the 1960s and 70s, there was still much too great a stigma attached to mental illness to encourage the emotionally injured to seek treatment of any kind. You just bucked up and moved on in those days. And here again, I know that I am not alone in this circumstance.
Too many of us are walking around emotionally crippled. Like a fractured leg bone that is never properly medically treated, leaving the injured with a noticeable limp, early emotional injuries left untreated cause a similar and sustaining disability in dealing with every day life. Oh we can walk among our fellows, and even function seemingly well in the land of the living. But inside, we are suffering in our own private hell.
Many of us try to soothe ourselves by self-medicating with drugs and/or alcohol; which often leads to addiction and a whole new set of problems. I know that this is what worked for me for awhile, until it didn't anymore. And when alcohol could no longer disguise the reality of my pain, it became yet another problem, another thing to feel guilty about, another nail in my coffin.
It has taken decades for me to get anywhere near well. After I began dealing with my alcoholism, it took a long sober while for me to be able to deal with the underlying depression at the root of it all. And it is a daily struggle; sometimes easy, sometimes not so easy. Today, I am sober, on anti-depressant meds and learning to live in the real world for the first time in my life. And even though, I have lost much professionally and financially, I have gained a more realistic perspective, and a real love for my real life. I never had that before. I was too busy running away from myself and my dis-ease. I am so glad I don't have to do that anymore. I am too weary of it all.
So, what does all this have to do with Newtown? Is it not obvious that Adam Lanza was at least disturbed? I wonder about his initial injury? Did something happen to him in first grade? He didn't get that way all by himself overnight. That anger and pain was years in the making. What happened to him? Does anybody care?
We should care because when someone as disturbed and angry as Adam Lanza has easy access to guns, what other outcome can there be? There are still lots of Adam Lanzas out there, and it is easier and more acceptable in our society, for the mentally deranged to get guns than it is to get treatment and medication. What does that say about us?
What will we see a year from now? Will there be another 200 American children taken out by gun violence? Or will we see a greater understanding of mental disease and defect? Will we see more resources devoted to mental health? Or will we just keep on doing what we're doing, and keep on getting more of what we got?
It's up to us, here in the US.
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