Conversations of Mental Health are a Dangerous Ruse

We must admit that there is no way to understand how someone can have such a low view of human life to commit mass violence against others. This level of violence and evil is, and should be, unimaginable. These feelings of outrage and disgust that we are experiencing in the aftermath of the shooting at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School are useful in how they can motivate us to do something as a society when faced with such horrible actions. Such violence as we have seen that can indiscriminately take the lives of other human beings leaves us speechless.

However, to casually describe such actions as the work of a “crazy person,” or proclaim that the simplest response is to address “mental illness,” is nothing less than an attempt to abrogate any responsibility from our own collective actions, or inaction, onto an illness we can only treat, but not cure.

Our society holds a powerful stigma against those, like myself, who have been diagnosed with a mental illness. We fear mental illness on a primal level. It scares us to think that there are influences in the world that can capture our thoughts and actions without our consent. Mental health is a mysterious thing. It happens in the recesses of our mind, a mysterious place in itself. 

We all experience weird thoughts that come unbidden.

We all experience those moments where thinking just will not end, keeping us awake with trivialities.

Because these experiences are so universal, we find ways to cope and respond. Many find some form of meditation, even though we may not call it that. Counting sheep, doodling, sitting in silence, yoga, or breathing techniques are all a form of meditation to try and refocus our minds. In our Christian communities, prayer and Scripture are themselves forms of meditation. They buoy our sense of connection to God and help calm us as we confront the uncertainties of life. 

Sometimes, with good intentions, our communities can present unhelpful responses to our suffering. I remember being told to “have more faith,” when I felt depressed, questioning my calling, my place in the world, or my own self-worth. I remember trying so hard to lean into those words and trust God in bringing me through those places. When it did not happen, my depression got even worse. 

Why would God ignore me?

If I am supposed to be called to be a minister, shouldn’t God respond to my prayers?

It turns out, that there were ways to cope with my mental illness. Therapy has been the miracle I always prayed for. For others, they need the intervention provided by prescribed medications on top of their times in therapy. For me, that work is some of the most terrifying. You have to look inside and confront the dark places that scare us. Thankfully, therapy means you do not have to do it alone, and that the person walking with you, to whom you are telling your most intimate secrets, must keep your trust. They will never tell a soul what you said, unless compelled by a court order.

This brings us back to a conversation around gun reform. Currently, our social discussion of how to respond to horrific gun violence has been to enact reforms around treatment for mental illness. As I said above, it is unconscionable to us that someone can commit such a horrific act of violence like we have seen in Las Vegas, Parkland, FL, Sutherland Springs, TX, San Bernardino, CA, or Newtown, CT. Pundits and politicians will typically call the gunman “unbalanced,” “disturbed,” or “crazy” as they attempt to express a narrative for what is happening around us. For some, it is an attempt to compassionately address the suffering of perpetrators. For others, it is an attempt to shift the focus of conversation away from restrictions on firearms access.

For both, this is a much more complex conversation than anyone recognizes.

In truth, it can create more victims than it helps.

The complexity of addressing mental illness revolves around transparency. HIPAA (Health Information Portability and Accountability Act) created a system to protect all sensitive information concerning a patient’s various diagnoses. While creating a secure system for that information to be transferred between providers (such as primary care and specialists), protections were put in place so that outside actors (pharmaceutical companies, employers, and thieves) could not access your sensitive information. Included in that collection of protected information is any mental healthcare you have received. All this information is protected by law, can only be accessed by you or your doctors, and is not released without a specific court order.

In order for reforms around mental health to help prevent future gun violence, obtaining information in order to prevent potentially violent people with mental illness from accessing firearms would require an overhaul of the privacy protections afforded to individuals around their health information. Either that, or we would have to utilize the court system to obtain orders for public release of a lot of people’s mental health records. I want to acknowledge that there is a possible slippery slope argument to be made that a future could exist where no one’s health information is private, but I also want to acknowledge that such an argument is a logical fallacy and will not help us in a real debate. Needless to say, this kind of reform is incredibly complicated.

Likewise, the conversation itself is problematic because it does not address the inherent social stigma that surrounds mental illness. The current predilection for calling mass shooters some form of mentally ill by using slang terms is unhelpful. By characterizing people who commit gun violence (mass shootings included) as mentally ill, we perpetuate the stigma that people with mental illness are inherently violent. In fact, research shows that this is opposite to our reality. The end result, most likely, would be that the level of gun violence we see would not be reduced by laws targeting mental illness. Instead, more people would forego any form of treatment for their mental illness, putting them in more danger of harming themselves. 

I know, from first-hand experience, that mental illness can powerfully alter life’s trajectory. Likewise, mental illness brings with it the possibility that the person most likely to become the victim of violence is me, not someone else. Therefore, it would behoove me to seek treatment for my own well-being which requires me to have sympathy for myself. In fact, it is sympathy for myself, and empathy from my therapist, that has been the most beneficial in my own journey towards wholeness.

These proposals are not based in empathy, but fear.

Creating laws that are based in our collective fear of mental illness is the opposite of empathy.

It will only push people like me further away from the connections I need to thrive.