The critical question

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A VIEW FROM THE BRIDGE

There isn’t a particular time of year properly to mark or even a recognizable way of acknowledging that it’s not okay not to be okay.
I say this because there are so many other “colors” for months these days, and they’re all valid and they all help improve awareness and education of critical issues such as women’s cancers, men’s cancers, child abuse prevention… and yes, mental health.
But there are not enough ways to address mental health issues year-round. No one waits until Mental Health Awareness Month to have trouble. You can’t delay a crisis until a bumper sticker is in season.
Problem is, too many of us wait until Mental Health Awareness Month to ask other people if they’re okay or if they need help, and it must be said that many who ask aren’t actually prepared to handle any responses other than “I’m fine.”
Asking someone whether they’re okay has become as mundane as asking about the weather or the dog. The expected answers are just as noncommittal, such as agreeing on a drought or thunderstorm, rawhide treats or still peeing on the rug… No one suddenly says “Actually, I’m not okay and I’ve been thinking of doing something bad.”
Why does no one say that? Because in this culture of personal excellence it’s the common belief that not being okay or not being able to handle things is a weakness, a failure, a debilitating flaw in the American Life.
It’s as though we’ve been taught life lessons in a varsity locker room.
Well, as we are reminded all too often and all too terribly, that’s not real. People are not all the same. People are not all perfect. People are not all champion quarterbacks or cheerleader captains.
We’re not living in 1958 anymore.
As it happens, this is Mental Health Awareness Month right now.
But that’s not why I’m writing this.
I’m writing this because too many of us have known someone or lost someone who somehow, some way, couldn’t handle it. Someone who seemed fine in the daily mix of things and never gave any outward signs of having trouble and then, suddenly, inexplicably, was gone.
I’ve wanted to address this for a while, and it isn’t that recent events prompted me to put finger to keyboard but that I’ve known it needs to be said, even if we aren’t very good at saying it or haven’t quite mastered how to look someone in the eye and offer help or ask the critical question, or even take action without being asked.
I agree that we aren’t all counselors. I agree that we aren’t psychiatrists or specialists, and that we certainly can’t provide all the answers right there, at the drop of a hat, in traffic, in the lunch line, at the cash register, in front of the television or while we’re doing the dishes.
Neither can the professionals.
But we can start the conversation.
However, much as we’ve been taught so mistakenly that the successful ‘Boo-Yah’ American can handle anything, repair anything, build anything and solve anything, we can’t all fix something deeply troubling when our friends and loved ones need us. That’s why we either don’t talk about it or shy away from it, or even mock it as a weakness that shouldn’t be tolerated.
Well, right now, somewhere very near you, perhaps at the burger counter or in a business office, perhaps across the dinner table or on the phone, someone is hurting, afraid, sinking, clutching at straws, and slipping.
We can’t stand idly by and tell people to put on their big-person pants and get with the program.
Yet we do.
We do it all the time.
We turn our heads, we dismiss it, we ignore it or we brush it onto someone else’s plate.
Not a day goes by that I don’t think of someone we’ve lost and wonder, “What if I had asked?”
It’s time to ask. It’s always been time to ask.
There has never been a time when we shouldn’t have asked.
And there has never been a time when we shouldn’t have meant it.