Scapegoating

I noticed in my last post a tendency in myself to use my past to explain away aspects of my life--to attribute cause and perhaps subconsciously also attribute blame. I try to consciously recognize and counteract such scapegoating because I think it's largely unproductive. Sure, the various circumstances of my life have helped to make me who I am, but ultimately I believe the responsibility for who I am lies in what I do with myself today, right now. And then I rightly have nobody to blame but myself for the character of the person I see in the mirror.

When Emma (who has since vanished into self-conscious lurker status) reminded me about the difficulties of mixed orientation marriage (yes, I know everyone hates the term, but it's at least common enough to be succinct and understood), I responded to her like this:

You mentioned depression and addictive behaviors and I'm afraid to say that I know intimately and personally how horrible dealing with such challenges can be (both from my own experience, my wife's, and other close family members... and my patients for that matter). However, my inclination has often been to attribute the problems we face in our marriage and my personal life specifically to my SSA. Now I've got a broader perspective and I think I've used SSA as a scapegoat inappropriately. That's not to say that it isn't a big challenge and that it doesn't influence every part of your married life, because it does. But there are healthy ways we've found to deal with depression and addictive behaviors within our current situation and we have no desire whatsoever for divorce.

I've never been suicidal, but I think the same applies. And I'm not suggesting that a person place blame on himself or herself, I'm suggesting blame isn't usually helpful at all when there are deep personal problems in our lives. If assigning a cause helps to mitigate it, then great. But blame usually just helps us feel victimized and absolved of solving the problem for ourselves. At least, that's the way I feel sometimes. I scapegoat lots of my problems as directly attributable to my struggle with porn, but what good does that do? It doesn't change the challenges I've got and the opportunity I have today to kick those challenges squarely in the butt. I can have better relationships with my friends, see guys around me as people rather than objects, etc. No more scapegoating for -L-.

As an extension of this topic, I've seen the church used as a scapegoat for all the difficulties people experience in the context of homosexuality. Blame is heaped on the church for not solving the full spectrum of people's personal problems--or for causing them. I realize that such blame is important for some to keep their feelings of betrayal fresh and hot, but I think the genuine mistakes made by church leaders or just the inadequacy of an organization to solve all of life's ills doesn't change the virtuous purposefulness and good that the church does accomplish. Attributing suicide to the church for its position on homosexuality is easy, but wrong. Folks who are suicidal because of an inability to deal with their sexuality within the church's context need professional help, not for the church to change its doctrines.

So there you go. It can't all be blamed on your parents, on being gay, on your struggles with porn, or on the church. Whether it's your being gay, your marriage, your personal flaws, or your unhealthy emotions, you can deal with the realities regardless of where they came from. And by "you" I mostly mean "me"!

Exceptions

When I was young, I was taught that suicide is self-murder. There it was, black and white and horrifying. It's no wonder that when I was taught murder is the only unforgivable sin (I'm leaving out all the disclaimers and discussion of sinning against the Holy Ghost), I could see why suicide was such a tragedy. If this life is the time to prepare to meet God, and we shouldn't procrastinate the day of our repentance as this probationary time could end at any moment, it seemed to me that suicide ends and seals your mortal test with an unforgivable sin. It doesn't get much more hopeless than that. Although I don't see it this way anymore, one can easily see why it's a sensitive topic.

I can see how suicide causes all sorts of tormented feelings on the part of loved ones left behind. The simultaneous horrors of losing a loved one, having that loved one do something terrible, having him be the victim of something terrible, him having no chance to repent or work through the issue, thinking you may have lost him for the next life as well, along with the guilt our human nature foists upon us that we might have stopped it "if only I had...," all combine for a grim eulogy.

During her discussion of her son's suicide in In Quiet Desperation, Marilyn Matis makes this odd observation: "Although losing our son was difficult, it has been comforting to know that he was faithful to his temple covenants." I've heard this statement criticized as implying that it was better for Stuart to have killed himself than to have given in to his gay desires, but I don't read it that way. The subsequent sentence reads: "Fred and I each had an indescribable feeling of peace that lasted for several weeks after Stuart's death." How is such a peace possible given the horror of suicide? Given the sin of suicide?

It's as if Sister Matis sees the suicide itself as, well, not counting. I wonder if it was a spiritual confirmation that all the good Stuart had accomplished in his life was not negated by that one act. Or, perhaps, that he wasn't accountable for the act at all. Elder Ballard has given some guidance on suicide that indicates there are occasions when a person's state of mind excludes culpability.

In more general terms, Elder Oaks has talked about exceptions where one is not accountable for an action that would in some other context be grievous sin. Prior to the quote below he gave the example of a man who wanted reassurance from Elder Oaks that his involvement in military combat would not constitute a violation of the commandment thou shalt not kill:

...The explanation I gave that man is the same explanation I give to you if you feel you are an exception to what I have said [about the commandment of marriage]. As a General Authority, I have the responsibility to preach general principles. When I do, I don’t try to define all the exceptions. There are exceptions to some rules. For example, we believe the commandment is not violated by killing pursuant to a lawful order in an armed conflict. But don’t ask me to give an opinion on your exception. I only teach the general rules. Whether an exception applies to you is your responsibility. You must work that out individually between you and the Lord.

Perhaps Stuart's suicide was an exception, given the circumstances of his life and his mental health. Perhaps it is not inaccurate or inappropriate to find solace in the goodness of his life, e.g. in his faithfulness to his temple covenants. At the same time, suicides by those whose lives appear less worthy shouldn't be judged by anyone other than Him whose knowledge is perfect. And we can all have more hope knowing that "The dead who repent will be redeemed, through obedience to the ordinances of the house of God."

Psych

...When Stuart wrote that he was sure his suicide would come as a surprise, he was mistaken. I knew he would eventually take his life. I had even discussed with Paul what we could do to stop Stuart from carrying out his plan. Paul told me there was nothing we could do--he said that if we were to turn Stuart in for help, he would be put into a mental hospital. Paul added, "Then Stuart will hate you, and nothing you can do will stop him. You will only delay the inevitable."

Marilyn Matis in In Quiet Desperation

This last week when several Amish schoolgirls were murdered in Pennsylvania, I saw several writers comment on how sexual repression led the man to the unhealthy state of mind in which he could do such an atrocious thing. I agree that guilt about sexuality, especially when kept secret, can canker and fester and destroy a person. That's one reason I'm still blogging and working through this issue despite my previous sentiments about moving on, having broader goals, and focusing on different issues. This has been a tremendous outlet of emotions and thoughts and dialog that would otherwise be impossible. Getting it out there and talking about it has normalized my life in many ways.

Stuart, apparently, didn't really get his feelings normalized adequately. Not that he wasn't out to some friends and family who were available and willing to help, but he wasn't getting the depth and quality of attention he needed for his issues. Such depth may require intensive cognitive and behavioral therapy. It may require medications. And yes, it may require involuntary hospitalization. This is a good thing, my friends. It gets people the help they need and keeps them from making an irrevocable mistake like suicide. Whether he would hate his family for it is irrelevant. Whether it was necessary is all too clear in retrospect. Whether the suicide was inevitable is debatable (I don't ever believe that).

I've admitted multiple patients with suicidal ideation to the hosptial for observation recently. It's an illness that can be addressed. The reason suicide seems necessary to a person isn't for this circumstance or that situation, it's because there is a mental illness that must be addressed directly.

A close family member recently shocked us by shooting himself in the head. The warning signs had been there, but he was unwilling to voluntarily get the help he needed. Thankfully, he's doing well after several surgeries, and now he's finally getting the care he needs--both medical and psychiatric. There's nothing whatsoever to be ashamed of in that.

Whatever the stigma society assigns to mental illnesses--sustaining such epithets as psycho and crazy--they are no reason not to allow oneself to get the legitimate help that is available for real problems. It isn't simply "all in the head."