Mental Health: it’s OK to not be OK.But it’s not OK to ignore it!

“It’s ok to not be ok” – – an important truth and one of my favorite phrases. But it’s incomplete.
The part that’s missing is important. It might save someone’s life: “It’s not ok to ignore it.”

I was 14 years old when I moved to NC from TN in 1989. Though it was hard to say goodbye to friends and family, a new beginning was a gift since my reputation in TN was less than stellar from early teenage “errors in judgment.” (Check out my article, Skeletons in My Closet.) Being in a new town gave me the opportunity to meet new people, make new friends, cultivate new habits, and of course, find new drama! All of which was accomplished within two weeks of my arrival.

My first week at school was uneventful, so; naturally, I was looking forward to some entertainment over the weekend. Imagine my excitement when my new church friend, Andi, invited me to a rival football game across town!

Friday night football escape or nightmare?

Andi and I carefully planned our attire for the big game, and we agreed: a sweatshirt and jeans were a no-go for this game! This was the first game of the season, and we were going to turn heads!

Thus, when game day arrived we couldn’t wait to show up with our perfectly aqua-net-sprayed hair and short skirts. Never mind that NC nights were breezy and chilly that time of year. The priority was to look good, not stay warm. 

I knew Friday’s football game was going to be fun. However, the real reward was a much-needed break from my parents! The game was the perfect escape from my father’s anxiety about his new job and my mother’s wild mood swings about our move to NC.

To my dismay, however, the game wasn’t an escape at all. It was the beginning of a psychological nightmare.

Everything was fine until…

Andi’s mom dropped us at the gate to the field with specific instructions about the place and time to meet her for pick up. Then, off we went….

Fifteen minutes later, drama revealed itself! Andi arranged to meet friends without her mom knowing. One friend happened to be her boyfriend, who happened to have a friend for me. Therefore, this wasn’t just my first football game in my new town; it was also my first double date.

Andi and her boyfriend disappeared under the bleachers. Her absence was fine since I was happily distracted by her boyfriend’s pal, Glen, whose jacket was draped over my shoulders within minutes of our meeting. 

Glen was intriguingly attractive with his dark hair and blue eyes… Nevertheless, I was determined to keep a safe distance from any potential love interests.

Glen, on the other hand, wasn’t wasting any time. He was quite the charmer, sharing his jacket, buying me a drink from the concession stand, even trying to hold my hand… He was winning me over until he pulled out a gun.

There are a million ways to impress a girl…

What do you say when a guy you just met pulls a pistol from his pocket at a high school football game? I wish I knew. My only memory is thinking to myself, “That’s not a real gun. That looks like something my brothers play with. This guy is an idiot if he thinks I believe that’s a real gun.”

It wasn’t long after Glen showed me the gun that Andi’s mom pulled into the high school parking lot to pick us up. I was beyond relieved to climb into her car.

When we got into the car, I leaned over and whispered to Andi, “Do you know much about Glen?”

“No. Tonight was the first time I met him. Did you like him?”

“He was ok.”

“Well, good because he likes you and wants to talk to you again. They’re going to call us to— .”

“He had a gun,” I interrupted.

“What?” Andi said, shocked. 

I motioned for her to lower her voice so her mom couldn’t hear.

“Mom, turn up the radio! This is a good song.” Andi leaned closer to me.

“He said he had a gun,” I whispered. “I didn’t believe him, so he showed it to me. It didn’t look real, though. I’m pretty sure it was a toy.”

“It probably wasn’t real. He’s just trying to impress you,” Andi reassured. 

“There are a million ways to impress a girl.” I rolled my eyes. “A toy gun is not one of them.”

What just happened?

It was late when the guys called that night. After talking to her boyfriend, Andi handed me the phone to chat with Glen again. I put the receiver to my ear, expecting to hear his voice. Instead, I heard a loud “click.” 

“What is that sound?”

“The gun I showed you. I’m playing Russian roulette,” Glen replied.

“What is Russian Roulette,” I asked. 

“It’s a gambling game.”

I heard snickering in the background. I assumed Glen’s friends got a kick out of the fact that I wasn’t familiar with Russian Roulette. Annoyed, I handed the phone back to Andi, rolling my eyes. 

“Is something wrong,” Andi asked, reaching for the phone. 

Just then, we heard a loud “pop” on the other end of the line. Our eyes met. We heard yelling. Then screaming. Andi quickly lifted the receiver to her ear.

“What just happened?” Andi asked into the phone.

I watched as she listened. The color faded from her face as she hung up. She fell onto the bed, a hollow look on her face.

“What was that pop? Was that a gun?” I managed to say despite the lump in my throat. I didn’t recognize my voice.

“He shot himself,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “He shot himself in the head.”

“So he’s dead? Tell me he’s not dead, Andi!” The room started spinning. “That gun was too small to kill anyone. It didn’t even look real!”

“I don’t know if he’s dead. They had to call 911, so I hung up.” Andi looked at me. “What did Glen say when you talked to him?”

“Nothing, really. He was playing some Russian Roulette game with his friends.”

Andi gasped in horror. We sat in silence.

Whose decision killed Glen?

Glen was almost 16 and had a bright future ahead of him. Then one decision ruined everything. 

But which decision was it? Was it Glen’s choices that killed him? I mean, he had the gun, loaded it, and pulled the trigger… Or was it our fault – – his friends; or worse, my fault? I dismissed the fact that he had a gun at a football game and failed to tell Andi’s mom. I failed to do anything.

Regardless whose fault it was, I went on a double date with a guy who shot himself an hour after we were together, and I heard the shot that killed him. My mental health was definitely on the brink of collapsing.

Glen’s death was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

I’ll never forget Glen’s funeral visitation. His best friend stood in a corner, sobbing hysterically. Spit and snot dripped from his lips as his chest heaved up and down. The sounds coming from his body were a combination of guttural noises and dry heaves. I avoided eye contact.

I walked to the back of the funeral parlor, where Glen’s lifeless body lay in a casket surrounded by flowers. “Please open your eyes,” I thought. I felt sick. I rushed past the people offering condolences to Glen’s family and opened the door. The outside air filled my lungs and my nausea subsided. I left the funeral home and tried to forget ever meeting Glen or his friends.

That was the last day I saw any of them. We never spoke again. I never spoke to Andi again, either.

I’m not totally sure why I never talked to them again. Maybe I avoided them because it was too hard to be friends after such a traumatic event. Perhaps they avoided me for the same reason.

In any case, Glen’s death was the straw that broke the camel’s back for me:

Life was too much. I wanted to kill myself, too.

I needed help. Mental health help.

Today it’s difficult to think back to that time in my life. Obviously, it’s tough to think about Glen’s untimely death. But it’s also hard because his death made me realize I needed some major psychological support. Between the move, a traumatic break up with my TN boyfriend, nonstop physical fighting with my parents, starting a new school, going to a new church, and then hearing a guy kill himself, I needed more than once-a-week counseling. I needed residential treatment.

To this day, I hate admitting I needed mental health help. It was 35 years ago, and I’m still ashamed to confess that.

It’s that shame that makes me wonder how many others hide their need for emotional support. Who else is afraid to ask for help, ashamed to admit, “I can’t keep going like this. My life is so full of pain that I can’t cope, and I’ve lost the desire to go on.” I think we’d be surprised to know how many people struggle with those thoughts. That’s why I’m writing this.

Mental health: it’s everyone’s issue.

My situation was dire, and my circumstances were extreme, so it makes sense that I needed professional help. But there are others needing help whose situations aren’t quite so severe. Many others.

If you think about it, our mental health is fluid. It ebbs and flows with the ups and downs of life. Job loss, economic crisis, television, the internet, death, war, pandemics, and Presidential elections…all impact our mental health for better or worse.

This definition of mental illness put things into perspective for me:

“The true definition of mental illness is when the majority of your time is spent in the past or future, but rarely living in the realism of NOW.”

Shannon L. Alder, n.d.

Gone are the days when mental illness was a dirty little secret that impacted a few people in the next town. Now, mental health impacts all of us. If you aren’t struggling with a mental health issue, you know someone who is. I promise.

It’s ok to not be ok. But it’s not ok to ignore it!

Kids, teens, and adults of every race, elders, Christians, atheists, LGBTQ+, actors, athletes, military members, CEOs, homeless people, educators, authors, pastors, husbands, wives, news anchors, the rich, poor, and middle class…everyone should be concerned about mental health.

The good news is there are simple things we can do. First, we can fix the phrase we hear and say so often:

It’s ok to not be ok. But it’s not ok to ignore it!

It’s really not ok to ignore it. Ever! Let’s encourage each other to take responsibility for our mental health. Then we can move forward in three ways: Get help, be help, or give help.

Helping really can save someone’s life!

Resources:
For residential therapy or workshop therapy, contact Onsite.
For more resources, visit PositivePsychology.com or click here.

Christians, I highly recommend Christian counseling. It matters!

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