Frighteningly Common

Tragedies like the one in Connecticut are becoming all too frighteningly common. Violence, pain, havoc, chaos. So much of it. Everywhere. And we all just want it to end. We want to to STOP HAPPENING. We want to fix it. And no one even knows where to start.

I think the first thing we have to do is grieve. Fully acknowledge what has been lost to each of us and give it it's due. Process it. Reach out. Share. Hold each other up. Like everyone else, I wish I could hug each and every one of the parents of those poor children and tell them that I am praying for them. That, while I haven't lost a child to a tragic event, a part of my heart knows what it's like to face an empty bedroom and questions of "how many kids do you have?" and not really know how to answer it. I want them to know that I am praying for them with a heart that has felt deep pain, and my spirit is petitioning on behalf of theirs in a language that is beyond words:  Empathy.

But there probably aren't many others in line with me who also want to hug the father and brother of the shooter and tell them that I am praying for them too. That to some extent my heart understands the sense of loss, pain, anger, disbelief, embarrassment, shame, and grief that they must be feeling. My heart, my spirit... all of me is praying for them in that same language beyond words:  Empathy. I understand that what their son/brother did is NOT THEIR fault. I understand that they are grieving, too. Not just their loved ones that are gone now, but every shred of "normal" that they ever thought they had. I understand that even though the young man that committed this unthinkable act did an absolutely horrific thing, he was also once a little baby that they knew and held and whom they watched grow up and struggle. To them, this young man is more than just a murderer. I understand that they can love him, fear him, hate him and not even know him - all at the same time.

I know this because I live it.

Yesterday, I read an article republished on the Huffington Post website titled "I Am Adam Lanza's Mom" by a mom who has a son much like mine. Her son is older but I have already experienced much of what she described and what I haven't experienced, I can absolutely see coming. (If you haven't read it, here is the link: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/12/16/i-am-adam-lanzas-mother-mental-illness-conversation_n_2311009.html )  I have no doubt that as this woman watched the events in Connecticut unfold and as more and more of the details of the shooter emerged, she was inwardly cringing at how familiar it all sounded to her. Just like I was. I have no doubt that her mind also flashed back to conversations with social workers and doctors in hospital emergency rooms in which she struggled to express why she was there with a beautiful child. A child who wanted to kill her and/or his sibling. She understands the intense disbelief these kinds of allegations always bring up, and she understands the inner doubt that causes you, the parent, to even wonder if you are making it up because maybe you are the crazy one in the mix.

She knows. She knows what it's like to fear her child. She knows what it's like to desperately want to get help for them and have no idea where to start. She knows what it's like to fight for insurance and then have to fight the insurance company. She knows what it's like to read through what she so appropriately described as "Russian novels of behavior plans" and I'm pretty sure she has also become a lay-pharmacist with the myriads of meds that have been thrown at her son (and maybe even at her, too).

I know she knows the cry of a mother's heart when you cannot reach the child you know needs you, even when they are standing right next to you, and not understand why the walls around his heart and mind exist or how to get through them, or even if you should try.  She knows what it's like to wonder, constantly, did I do something wrong? Did I not do something I should have? She knows she will probably never have that answer. She knows the fear that someday, someone will call her and tell her it's her kid on the news.

She knows it. I know it. My sisters know it. My friends S and R and many others know it. Probably more than one person reading this blog (if there is one person reading it, ha ha ha) knows it, too. What I have no doubt will come out in the days to come is that Nancy Lanza herself ALSO knew what this is like. And, as a mother, she tried everything she could to keep it from happening and yet also was unable to imagine that even HER child could do something like this. Trust me. NO ONE WANTS TO BELIEVE THEIR CHILD CAN DO THIS.

As much as everyone wants to avoid talking about mental health issues, we have to accept that there are a LOT more people out in the world who are struggling with mental illness and the effective help available for them decreases every year. It's not just the ill folks themselves who are struggling, but their families and loved ones as well. We are all burnt out, tired, frustrated, scared, and angry - angry that we unfairly become the focus of blame when things go wrong.

Back to my original topic, where do we start? We begin by grieving. We grieve the tragic loss of those precious children and women in the school. We grieve the loss of a good mom. We grieve the loss of "normal" for everyone who lives in Newtown. We grieve for the shattered lives that are left in the wake of this event. We grieve our sense of peace and security that have largely evaporated as this kind of thing has become all too frighteningly common.

And we pray.

(you are welcome to repost this blog entry - please include the original link to it)