Where We Are Really Broken

Like everyone else I know, I can't stop looking at my daughter today. I can't stop wanting to hold her close. I can't stop the nagging worry about taking her out, to places she knows and loves, because something might happen to her. And if that's how I feel, I can't even imagine what it feels like to be closer to the Newtown tragedy, or god forbid, someone involved with it. That level of searing pain is just beyond comprehension.

I respect my friends who are incensed enough by this to focus on gun control, on solving a system that is not working, and I wish them well.

But I will posit that this kind of reform is completely and utterly ineffective unless we take on the much deeper task of healthcare in this country, and by that I mean particularly mental health. Until access to all health resources, including mental health, is free, and easily available, and not stigmatized. Until people throughout the system are trained to realize potential crises, and empowered to take action and assist on them. Until we treat this with the kind of gravity that it deserves.

(these are just my quick thoughts, and I am sure Patrick will have a more eloquent post on it later)

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