Annapolis

I'm from the Annapolis area. The house where I grew up, where I lived until I left for college and then returned to during the summer until I graduated and left the country, is 15 minutes from the Capital Gazette headquarters. The Capital is my hometown paper. It's where I got my first ever letter to the editor published. Wendi Winters, one of the staff members killed, wrote the weekly "Teen of the Week" column highlighting good work being done by a local young person, and she covered local high school theatre productions.

I'm so sad for the local reporters who were killed and for their families and friends. I'm so proud of the reporters who kept going and put out a paper today. I'm so angry about the violence and the fear they experienced -- that, because trauma lives in the body, they are still experiencing.

I'm not shocked that this happened in 'my town,' because this is every town in the U.S., and we need to recognize that and respond accordingly.

I don't have anything new to say about mass shootings. I've reflected before on how I make sense of prayer and action in response to news of violence; about the inaccurate perceptions around mental illness and violence; about the unhealthy systems that we ought to be examining and diagnosing in response to violence. To that last post about unhealthy systems at play in violence, you could add something about hostility toward journalists: the killer, who had been brought up on criminal charges for harassing a woman (a history of violence against women being one of the most stable predictors of mass shootings), had sued the paper claiming libel. He felt like them reporting on his criminal behavior towards women was, well, fake news. It wasn't. I wonder how much of his decision to act on his toxic anger toward the paper was empowered by the current climate of suspicion and even urging of violence against journalists. A sitting member of Congress physically assaulted a reporter during his campaign and was still allowed to take his seat.

I keep starting and stopping this piece, writing and re-writing it. I want to say something about my memories of Annapolis. About walking around the Naval Academy with my dad -- he graduated from there in 1963. About pondering going to St. John's. About somehow dropping my wallet off the end of the dock into the cold waters of the head of the Severn River while turning silly cartwheels with friends. About music at Rams Head Tavern. About the Parade of Lights, boats decorated for Christmas. About Maryland Hall for the Creative Arts. About how crossing the Bridge with the sun sparkling on the Bay still, after more than a decade, feels like coming home.

I want to say something about all that, but the memories aren't holding still for me right now. Somehow, I couldn't even find a photo of me in Annapolis -- I know there are so many, but I don't know where they are. The images are all jumbled in my head, mixed up with breaking news about violence.

There's a motto bouncing around right now -- I think it's from Everytown for Gun Safety, but maybe it originated elsewhere, I'm not sure. It says, "We don't have to live like this. We don't have to die like this."

Annapolis is everytown. It's got all the same joy and pain and heartbreak and wonder and mediocrity of any other American town. People shouldn't have to live in fear there, or anywhere. People shouldn't have to be shot in their workplaces or their schools or their streets, there, or anywhere.

So I guess I'll end this by pulling a quote from the last time I wrote a blog on the topic of gun violence:

By all means, send thoughts and send prayers. Send prayers by extending real compassion to the people who have been hurt and killed. Pray for the wisdom and the insight to know how to respond responsibly. And think. Put your mind to work. Think systems. Think about the multiple factors that impact a person to lead them to violence. And think carefully and prayerfully -- what the Christian tradition has referred to as "discernment" -- about how you, too, and the communities you inhabit, are impacted by and in turn can impact those systems. Thoughts and prayers? Yes, by all means -- we will need both. Actions? Yes, those too. Putting them all together? That's thinking systems. That's the kind of thing that might just lead us to properly diagnose this problem. And maybe, just maybe, find a cure.

What I've heard, what's needed, and how you can help

The past month and a half has been amazing, and tiring, and inspiring, and hard, and full, and I just wanted to share a few thoughts about it.

I've been on the road a lot recently, talking about my book Christ on the Psych Ward and sharing with faith communities about mental illness, mental health, and spiritual care. By my count I've given 15 talks to a total of well over 400 people in 5 states and the District. I'm beyond grateful for the many people who invited, organized, scheduled, and hosted me.

There have been rich conversations, powerful stories, and tough questions. I have been inspired and heartened to see congregations challenging stigma and breaking the silence around mental illness in the church. I have been saddened and angered by the realities of lack of mental health resources in many communities and the real difficulties congregations, campuses, and chaplaincies have in responding to what feels like overwhelming need. And I have become even more determined to create more spaces for conversations, to share more stories, and to challenge the systems that keep many people silent about their struggles and cut-off from care and community.

Speaking at a packed pub theology in Marietta, OH

I heard from people in rural communities talking about the almost total lack of mental health resources available, including a lack of health coverage, lack of hospital beds and hospital units for people with psychiatric needs, and harsh co-morbid realities of addiction, mental illness, and situational despair.

I heard from people who struggle to destigmatize psychiatric medication because of real experiences and concerns about medication being abusively administered as a means of control, rather than as a means of healing, in settings such as prisons, group homes, and (just recently in the news, and again) in detention centers caging children at the border.

I heard from people working in marginalized communities where mental healthcare continues to be stigmatized in part exactly because of the histories and current realities of these types of abuses.

I heard from people who are tired of chronic homelessness and mass incarceration standing in for a functioning mental health system in this country.

I heard from pastors and church staff who are stretched beyond their training and ability trying to fill in the gaps in a broken mental healthcare system.

I heard from people with their own mental health struggles and diagnoses who struggle every day and who long for the support of their faith community, their friends, and their family -- and family members, friends, and church members who long to offer support but aren't sure where to start.

I heard a lot, and I'm still processing most of it.

Hearing from a student in Greensboro, NC

But there are a few things that have become clear to me as far as what's needed, and what's next for me as I try to respond faithfully to that need. Because it's become increasingly clear to me that this -- these conversations, these needs, these opportunities for faithful engagement -- is, indeed, part of my call, an important piece of my vocational journey.

So here are five things I'm going to work on to address three areas of need I see:

(1) I'm going to keep sharing my story. There's still a huge need to challenge stigma, to break the silence, and to "go first" with my own story in order to create space for others to safely share theirs.

(2) I'm going to start something called #MoreStoriesMonday, which I'll share on this blog, the website, and social media. #MoreStoriesMonday will highlight and share stories from people who are impacted in different ways by mental health struggles and the realities of our broken mental health system. I begin all of my talks by saying that my story is not a universal story, and that in many ways I carry a privileged voice in the conversation about mental health. #MoreStoriesMonday will focus on voices that carry less privilege and less visibility than mine. There's a huge need to listen to the voices of people impacted by mental health challenges whose stories aren't often heard, and his is how I will respond that that need. 

Coming soon!

(3) I'm going to get trained as a Mental Health First Aid instructor. At almost every single place I spoke, I talked about the importance of Mental Health First Aid for congregations and faith communities (really, for everyone, but that's the main setting where I was sharing my story). I want to be able not just to talk about how important the training is, but to offer it for churches, chaplains, campuses, and communities. There's a huge need for basic mental health knowledge and resourcing, and this is how I would like to respond to that need. 

(4) I'm going to get more involved with the Poor People's Campaign: A National Call for Moral Revival. This revival of the 50-year old Poor People's Campaign -- which Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., was part of spearheading when he was assassinated -- is connecting the dots between the brokenness of our healthcare system and other important moral issues of our day. There's a huge need for us to challenge the systemic brokenness of our mental health system and our healthcare system in general, and this is how I am going to respond to that need. 

Speaking at a Poor People's Campaign Rally last week

(5) I'm going to write. I'm going to write more blog posts, and I'm going to write another book. In fact, I've already started working on it. Much like my first book, it will interweave threads of personal experience, theological reflection, and ministry practice. But rather than focusing only on the personal or interior experience of mental illness and mental health struggle, it will focus on the public conversation around the mental health system and access to care. It will ask the question: what does it look like to think in a more healthy manner -- to think healthier theologically, personally, and practically -- about mental health care? There's a huge need, as we continue to challenge stigma and break the silence, to connect personal stories to the systems that keep people silent and sick, and this is how I am going to respond to that need. 

Tentative 2nd book title, from my most-read blog post

And here's the deal: I need your help!

All three of these things are going to take time and resources. The training to be a Mental Health First Aid instructor runs from $950 to $2,000 depending on the training, not including travel. Volunteering with the Poor People's Campaign is going to mean traveling and giving up some weekends and vacation days. Writing takes a lot of time and energy. And y'all, I still need to pay for my own mental healthcare within this broken system that we've got!

So here are 10 things you can do to support me in these goals:

(1) If you haven't already, obviously buy Christ on the Psych Ward!
(2) Now that you've bought it, review it on Amazon and/or Goodreads.
(3) Recommend the book to a friend -- word of mouth is still the best darn way to spread the word!
(4) Go to your local public library or the library at your college/university and ask them to order a copy of Christ on the Psych Ward for their shelves.
(5) Organize a Christ on the Psych Ward book study, using our free discussion guide -- and I'll be happy to Skype in and speak to your group for one of your sessions.
(6) Like and follow my author page on Facebook, invite a friend to do the same, and like and share posts to spread the word.
(7) Invite me to speak with your church, campus, or organization, and gather the resources to help me with travel and pay my speakers' fee.
(8) Let me know about cool opportunities for speaking and/or sharing the book, like book festivals or conferences that might be interested in my work. You can contact me using this form.
(9) Share the Christ on the Psych Ward website with faith communities who are looking for mental health resources.
(10) Finally -- and perhaps most importantly -- you can join me in my goals by attending a Mental Health First Aid training in your area and/or volunteering with the Poor People's Campaign.

There's a lot of need, and I'm a limited person. But I'm passionated about this topic, and I think there is so much that faith communities can be doing to make our systems, our conversations, and our communities healthier and more whole. I'm grateful for all of you, and the many ways you support this important work. Thank you, and keep the conversation going!