It Doesn't, You Can't, So Stop Trying

Sadly, I live in the town that gained some national attention these past few days, due to the actions of one individual. I put off making any comment on the event, not so much because it has little to do with the project (more peripheral than direct), but because my views may be seen as controversial or heartless. In all honesty, I am not even sure I want to express my views. I have learned, however, that it is best for me to express rather than suppress. Yeah, like that has been a positive thing in that past. Still, for all the crap I've piled upon myself by opening my mouth and speaking my mind, I still manage to feel the slightest positive reward when disclosing my views. Again, some of my opinions are controversial, so prepare thyself.

First, shut up. Or, more bluntly, shut the HELL up. I really don't want to hear or read about what happened at that mall anymore. I suppose a large contribution to this feeling is my tendency toward denial. In this case, however, I think it is less denial and more disgust. It bothers me greatly that the ultimate goal of this individual was achieved, that being the 'fame' he garnered for his action. It occurs to me that making such a spectacle of this tragedy serves more to reinforce the sick notion that any one of us can become 'famous' via a traumatic act than it does to deter any future acts. Need I remind anyone that the goal of terrorism is to strike fear into the minds of society and disrupt the status quo?

Second, nobody will ever know what this person was thinking or why he did what he did. We can speculate for eternity, but I can assure you that NO ONE will ever know. From experience, I can tell you that swimming in the 'whys' are just as bad as treading in the 'woulda, shoulda, coulda' waters. Ultimately you will drown, unless you find the shoreline. What I am really saying is that if anyone truly wants to get close to the mindset of this individual, you better prepare yourself for discovering some real ugliness inside. Not him, but yourself. I worry that saying something like that will make a few feel that I am heartless. I assure you that I am not. The contrary is what makes this event traumatic for me. It is probably some evolved positive empathy that keeps me from being the next news headline or top story, as I can very easily step into this individual's thinking process, but that same empathy can put me into his shoes when I close my eyes, recognizing the same potential for insane action. Make me one heck of a FBI profiler, huh?

Finally, the worst component of this event is not the loss of lives. Granted, I feel such pain for those who were present, for those who were wounded, for the families of those who were killed in such brutal fashion. No, the worst part of this tragedy will be glossed over, briefly mentioned, casually tossed into the mix as the media and society continues its exploration. Failure. In that sad, sick, twisted sort of way, this is about how things failed. Without specifics, I can tell you that similar elements of life gone wrong have played out in my existence. Troubled childhood issues, broken relationships, loss of employment, irrational views that the fault is external rather than internal. Yep, been there, seen that. Failure. Not of the individual as much of the 'system.' For all of our supposed progression as a society, we still can't handle the truth of the mental health system's failure to fight it out with the idiots in control, or the reality that our society does more to perpetuate mental health problems than reduce them. It didn't come as a surprise to me when I was told that the office employing my therapist was closing because it was not making enough money for the hospital administering it. It came as no surprise to hear that the shooter of late had mental health issues that seemed to receive little resolution since his first interaction with the system as a child. Time and money, money and time. A lack of either or both in the mental health realm results in a lack of, well, results. A lack of results, more often than not, ends in pain or tragedy.

So, I rant no further, and I put this out there for the globe to consider, and I move beyond this traumatic event much as I have others in my life. Then I go back to my corner of the universe and do my thing, which mostly means finding more boxes of stuff to empty out, and maybe listing some stuff on eBay.