My Dear One,
It has been a few weeks since I have written, and I apologize for my lapse. I was involved in my sons very active lives, school vacation, baseball practices, homework, theater, and breaking up the inherent fights that occur when two brothers are in close proximity to one another. I also needed awhile to process the acts of violence perpetrated on a city that is not so very far away from me.
I have been reflecting on the recent attack(s) in Boston and I am reminded of the wise and kind words of Mr. Fred Rogers. It's a quote from The Mister Rogers Parenting Book that went viral after the shootings at Sandy Hook Elementary School and was particularly comforting to children and adults alike. He said:
“When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, 'Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping."
No one is born into this world to cause the death of innocent people. Neither is anyone born into this world to spread malicious pain and suffering like a cancer through a community. Rather, we are all born into this world with an opportunity to live and experience all that we encounter on the journey.
In the disasters of recent months most people of faith, and those who believe in an inherently good way to treat others, have responded to what has happened in largely similar ways. We have been stunned and shocked by the violence itself, we have been saddened by the losses, we have questioned how and why people act the way they do, and we have prayed for comfort and presence for those affected. We have sought help for those we perceive as helpless, and we have sought answers for ourselves so that we might not have to deal with such tragedies in our own futures. We have been afraid even when our theological teachings tell us not to fear. The unknown frightens us. These past weeks have decidedly contained vast amounts of "unknown," of unknowable futures, of fear.
But I have to admit, I have a hard time reconciling the gut reactions to tragedies and the outpouring of help during these tragedies, with the day to day pain and suffering that I witness in my own life, my clients' lives. Too often the responses I hear from people who are closest to the problems involve negative stereotypes and ignorance, the never ending barrage about welfare dollars, cigarettes, booze, and laziness that permeates our American culture is somehow perfectly allowable. But when a disenfranchised individual acts out, the response to this will put blame on the "system" and then demonize the offending individual for their actions. It is horrifying how quickly we will rationalize senselessness with rhetoric that shames and dishonors a person, who most needed access to support systems to prevent the slip into madness, and subsequent devastation.
As we now "know," two brothers were behind the horrors that unfolded over five days on Boston, but we may never know what motivated their thoughts or actions. What drove their own forms of madness? I have no idea. But I understand the madness part itself. Grace-filled, I've never felt called to viciously attack hundreds of strangers, however I have lived through the horrors of being attacked, and of attacking loved ones. I know that I will spend the rest of my life making sure that my beast doesn't come roaring out of submission, ready to attack whatever incorrect perceptions are feeding its insatiable hunger.
And that's the crux of my difficulty with all of this. I suffer from madness. I have Bipolar Disorder I, yes, the full blown model that is exacerbated by mind altering medications. I also have a history of trauma, Asperger's, ADD, and am an intersex/transgender/transexual individual. As a man with mental illness I am acutely aware of the fragility of life. And it is scary. That I am not a stark raving lunatic is lucky at the least, though I personally consider it Divine Intervention that is often represented in very human forms. My helpers.
My helpers come in a multitude of colors, shapes, and sizes and I am thankful for each and every one of them. I am well medicated. I have incredible therapists. I have a loving and supportive family. I have the most understanding, patient, and loving wife on the planet. I have friends. I take care of myself. I have a faith life. I have a job. I love my job. I love my family. I can cook. I bake delicious and beautiful desserts. I go to conferences. I am a respected member of my community. I am largely respected by colleagues and supervisors. I have incredible teaching relationships with extraordinarily challenging students. All of these things are my helpers and they are just the tip of that iceberg.
I have beaten most of the odds. And yet, I know that if a chemical imbalance gets the better of me, I may say or do things that are completely insane and potentially hazardous to myself or others. So I am beyond grateful that I have these resources to know when I might be slipping. I am upheld by a myriad of services and supports so that I don't slip. And less than 7 months ago I did slip. Actually, I fell at a tremendous rate of speed, and I needed a lot of helpers to pull me out and prevent me from creating havoc for everyone around me. And I know that if I ever need to return to an inpatient facility for treatment, I will not hesitate this time, and I will seek out those helpers again.
So, I am saddened, just as most people are for the victims and the families of the tragedies in Boston. There was no good reason for 4 beautiful people to lose their lives. There was no good reason for 180 more to lose not only flesh, blood, and bone, but a basic sense of security and trust that will take years to regain. There is never a good reason for violence. But there is always a reason, and I am all too familiar with its many incarnations.
It is the sadness and pain that I have felt in my life and I believe that it is very similar for the people who lost their battles with their beasts of mental illnesses. I, we, they have harmed so many, including ourselves, out of fear, pain, sickness, and rejection. To be terrorized from within one's own self by an uncontrolled, unaltered, unmedicated beast is the most unmanageable set of feelings I have ever lived through. Knowing that the beast is on the inside and no one can make it stop, stop, stop right at that moment of total descent into your own personal hell, is the darkest place I have been. It is a matter of life and death, and when you are unable to look for those helpers, death becomes an answer that is about relief, because living with this monstrous illness within you is simply too much to bear.
So where were the helpers during all of the madness that went on in Boston? Obviously there were the traditional helpers, the medical professionals, the law enforcement officials, the political leaders, the good samaritans, and the instinctive helpers who simply did what had to be done. But what nags at me, is the question of where were the helpers before the madness? How did these two very young individuals slip through every crack and crevice of two societies and "succeed" in their goal of causing pain and devastation? Why didn't anyone notice? How did this option become the "right" one for them? Who led them into this? What darkness within themselves allowed them to fall so far, so fast, into this hell?
Where was G-d in all of this?
Although I believe that "G-d is Still Speaking," I'm not sure that G-d is going to write out an explanatory note in the newspaper, or go on tv, or facebook, or twitter to spell it all out. Then again, maybe G-d already has and we just haven't noticed. Maybe each time someone helps another person that's the message. G-d is acting acting through social justice, rather than social media. Each time that every one of us shows the unconditional love that G-d has shown to us, we are hearing and seeing the answers to all the questions that we ask about hatred, violence, and fear. G-d has not abandoned us, rather G-d has empowered us to act in a world of pain and fear so that when senseless things happen, we can respond with love, caring, and respect for each one's dignity, so that we can all be helpers.
And just maybe, when I write the words that are thousands of years old every time I end my missives, maybe G-d is speaking through me.
Thank you for being on the journey with me as one of my helpers.
Be well, love your neighbor as you love yourself, and remember to actually love yourself.
- Ari
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