This post is a rather old one, but it cried out to me again today for a repost so here it is.
The Rest Is Still Unwritten was last updated in 2012 with a post titled Nothing Matters More Than Our Stories. David Stehle was absolutely correct in stating nothing matters more than our stories whether we know it or not. We all have a story to tell and no one ever knows what type of impact our words will have on someone else or when that impact might happen. I have a blogging kindred spirit (you know who you are) that is hands down the most talented person I know. He claims he has nothing of value to say, but I disagree. I have read his "stories" and I have felt his words. He "hooked" me a very long time ago! I can only hope that he always returns home from his "vacations" and that he never permanently fades into the darkness of cyberspace. Over the years I have grown to love him and when he is absent, I feel the void.
Below are David Stehle's heartfelt words from his abandoned blog:
Nothing Matters More Than Our Stories
In times of national crisis we often think, "My stories don’t matter – this isn’t about me" or "I'll stay quiet because I'm somewhere in the middle of the obnoxious people raging on TV." The truth is that in the midst of tragedy nothing matters more than our stories. Our complex, nuanced stories are the path to healing and change. They are the truth and there's no better foundation for change than the truth. I'd love to hear your thoughts and stories. - Brene Brown
This isn't working.
This.
What we are doing as a society, a country, as human beings. It is NOT working!
And when things aren't working, shouldn't we change things?
When people talk about school shootings they talk about guns. But I don't want to debate gun control. I'm not pro-gun anymore than I'm anti-gun. I've never owned a gun and thank God my parents never have either. Because if they had I wouldn't be here today writing this post.
"He was fearless in his pursuit of happiness and life.
He earned his ripped jeans and missing two front teeth."
Daniel Barden (age 7)
I attempted suicide at age 12 - with a steak knife of all things. But I searched the house first for a gun. If I had found one, you better believe I would have sucked on that barrel and squeezed without giving it a second thought. After all, even at age 12 I knew it was the best tool for the job.
While I had no intention of hurting anyone else, I had every intention of hurting myself. And I did. Without a rational thought. That's what happens when you are in the midst of making a deadly, permanent decision. All fear, sadness, and anger disappears. You become oddly calm. And thoroughly numb. Or at least I did.
If we're going to talk about gun control, it's just as important we talk about mental illness.
While I don't see any logical reason why a person needs to own an assault rifle and feel they should be banned, I'm not about to rip a standard rifle out of a hunter's hands (punishing him) simply because other people can't act responsibly. But let's face the facts. There have been over 70 school shootings since 1994. 70! Obviously there's a lot of sick kids out there. I should know because I was one of them. And what we are doing now as a society, a country, as human beings…it is NOT working!
According to NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness), mental illness typically strikes young people in their most productive years, 16-25. Families from all walks of life are affected regardless of age, race, income, religion, or education. Most shocking, 1 in 4 American families has a relative who has a mental illness. 1 in 4!
So what was my deal? Not much. I was just a deeply depressed kid who didn't know how to open up. I don't think that fits the crazy label. But depression is considered a mental illness. And medically speaking, one could have labeled me mentally ill. And that's the problem. Because mental illness has such an ugly stigma attached to it, I was terrified to get help. I was terrified to tell anyone how I felt. I was terrified of being seen as C-R-A-Z-Y!
It's easier to get an assault rifle than adequate mental health care. And for shooter Adam Lanza it was easier to slaughter 20 kindergartners and 1st graders than to say "hey, I need some help." Like most, I'm still processing the horror that took place at Sandy Hook. I'm heartbroken for 26 families of victims I've never met and for a community I've never visited. And of course, I'm furious at the killer!
Now I'm going to ask you to do something you'll hate me for. I want you to send light and love not just to the 26 victims and their families, but to the killer and his family too. To the entire Sandy Hook community. To every community that has suffered a mass shooting. To every victim. To every victim's family. And yes, even to every killer and their family.
Praying for a murderer is hard. Honestly, it's damn near impossible! But in doing so, I realize I'm also praying for the mentally ill. Praying for every kid like me who was/is terrified of being seen as crazy and didn't/doesn't have the strength to ask for help. Helping them (and myself) today when I failed to help them (and myself) back then. Making right MY wrongs. Making right OUR wrongs. Healing together.
If that is asking too much, and I know it is, then please consider doing one random act of kindness in memory of one of the 20 children lost. That way you can put back in the world the same light and love each of their short lives brought into it. I'm choosing Daniel.
Because as we all continue to process Sandy Hook, one question in particular weighs on my mind…
What if we tackled mental illness the same way little Daniel tackled things? Fearless in the pursuit of happiness and life.
As Brene Brown said above, I too would love to hear your thoughts and stories.