I’m not a parent, but I can imagine how much I would want to help my kids if I had any. The urge to fix the problem would be strong, as would the urge to assume my kids are okay because we’re raising them right.
The truth is that both of those urges are doing more harm than good, and may be the reason kids are comfortable talking to their peers and online about mental health, but not their own parents.
We know these facts. This is only the most recent research showing the negative impacts of loneliness and social isolation on mental and physical health. And yet, we live in a world that keeps making it harder and harder to connect with other human beings. In fact, we increasingly live in a world designed to dehumanize vast numbers of other people and determine our own value solely on the amount of time we spend working. That won’t create community.
We’re only harming ourselves.
We are failing to protect kids from trauma, and them failing to provide proper resources to assist them after that trauma. There’s no nice way to put this failure.
The point, however, is that having intrusive thoughts, anxious thoughts, is something we can talk about, even make jokes about. It happens. We can’t always control what messages our brains want to send us about what we should be afraid of. We control which ones we react to. We control knowing the difference between a realistic fear and an intrusive one.
Mostly, I feel like if we all admitted to having them, maybe it wouldn’t be something to freak out about when someone else has one.
I don’t always recognize myself as a survivor of emotional abuse, because the physical and sexual abuse was more obvious and memorable, but this description sounds familiar, and the reality of shame because of our abuse is something I think any of us who grew up with abuse as a kid feels.
That shame can lead to brooding and constantly trying to fix ourselves. That, I understand. The frustration of trying to fix ourselves because of something that wasn’t even our fault to begin with can be immense. If anything, I’d like to see resources that help all of us give ourselves a break and understand that this was someone else’s personal failing, not ours.
I’m not sure what the solution to this is. I imagine it is likely some combination of better healthcare resources, better communities, recognizing the need to support caretakers at home and work, etc. What I do know is that romanticizing it won’t solve anything. Talking about how Dolly wanted to be with her husband does a disservice to what happened while she was caring for him, and to all the people out there caring for a loved one without nearly the resources she had. They deserve better than platitudes; they deserve real support.
