Saturday, December 15, 2012

It's about mental illness.

I've changed this title 10 times.


I keep trying to write something that will express the sorrow that I feel towards the events that happened Friday at that sweet school in Connecticut.  I can't come up with any words that describe it.  I also can't come up with anything that doesn't sound like a pity party.  There have been other shootings in our country and around the world.  But this one struck me to the center of my soul and left a rock in there.  I feel so heavy inside.

I know that this has to do with the utter horror of it.  And partly to do with my separation from Bob.  I am so raw right now. I am having a hard time not crying in public.  Like right now, for instance.  I am sitting in Skyzone writing this.  Tears falling.  Luckily, they have this separate room with couches in it, and I am alone in here.  Otherwise, I would look a little desperate.

But I am deeply sad.  I haven't had dark days like this in some time.  I know it has to do with my marriage.  I know it has to do with the senseless death of all of those people.  And I grieve for people with mental illness, and the havoc it wreaks on society, if it isn't treated.  And it easily missed because like I said before, people seem fine.  There is no way to always tell.  That is the sad part.

People keep talking about gun control.  I am against gun control.   I don't understand the need for those crazy assault rifles.  And if you own one, I think you are a weirdo.  I am pretty much 100% liberal, but not on this.  

I think of it this way.  Let's say the next election gets voted in the most conservative man or woman ever born.  One that wants to take ALL of your rights away.  Let's say they want to use force.  I want the right to bare arms to be able to protect myself.   I feel like that could actually happen, as our country becomes more and more divided on religion, and politics. You know the good ol' boys are packing. (No offense to my wonderful republican friends) but I want to never be forced to do anything. If they have guns, I want them too.

Well, I really won't.  Because I don't have a gun.  I have four kids man, so no guns in my fucking house.  Plus, Bob made the list of people who can't own a gun because of his mental illness. So there probably won't be one at his house either.  

And speaking of that, he could get his hands on one any second if he wanted to.  It won't work.  

It isn't the guns that kill the people.  It is the mental illness.  THAT is where we need to focus our attention.  Health care, stigma, shame.  That is where the work needs to be done.  Poverty levels, racism, education systems.  That is where the focus should be.  Not on the guns.  On the people.  Fix the people, and the guns will be safe.

I have a story about Bob, but I'll save that for Monday.  I also have a story about the good in people.  But I will also wait to tell it.

For now, I am not going to try and get rid of this knot in my stomach, let myself cry.  When that gets too much, I'll do what Fred Rogers said to do and look for the helpers.   I might be sad for awhile.  Could be years.  And that is okay.

2 comments:

  1. Thank you for saying what I could not. I end up in tears just thinking any of it.

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  2. Its what, Wednesday now, I'm still not okay. Not even close. I can't even begin to imagine the pain of all those mommies and daddies and siblings and JUST OH MY GOD.

    I can't let my kids go. I can't clean my house. I know I need to get off my ass and cook a fricken meal, but, I. Just. Can't.

    Everytime my toddler warms my heart with his precious baby kisses and giggles- my heart then breaks a little more for all of those families. I just can't grasp it. It doesn't compute. And I'm afraid. Not so much for my kids, as I'm afraid that I won't ever get over this.

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