Broken People - The New Depression

Many of us know people (some really close) currently going thru a time of emotional damage in their lives. Or perhaps, you have personally been through a divorce, the loss of a loved one, or in an abusive relationship. Yet, we stay out of the way, finding feeble words to suffice for our fear of action in a time of need. We have the compassion to help, but don't feel adequate or fear involvement. The end of the matter is apparent, we talk to, work with, mix with or live with broken people.

Its easy to hide behind a smile (however so uneasy) or to give the usual words of encouragement and tell someone how ‘strong’ they are and how you admire the way they live their lives when we don’t know a damn thing about them or their lives. I again, go to the deep end of existence and step through the façade of class and the illusion of status and happiness to get to what’s really there…pain, suffering, loneliness, anger, shame and grief.

So you ask where is this going and why is this in a blog about drunks, drinkers, barfly’s, lowlifes and other persons who frequent the local drinking establishment? Its because of an incident I saw at a local bar that wounded my heart so I took a long walk so I would not be seen crying in front of other bar stool sitters. I got control of myself and offered what little help I could, but it was help that did change a life.

As I sat in a fine neighborhood drinking establishment in Baldwin on a late Friday afternoon, a Soldier, a Major in her mid 50’s showed up in the Army green uniform and ordered a drink. The bartender inquired where she was off to, an easy smile came over her weathered face, she said “my last required duty.” She had a thick flat book with her and another beer guzzling patron asked her what it was and she said “a photo album.”

After the Major had a few she showed off pictures of her wartime duty in Iraq as a nurse, the people she served with and the Soldiers, Airmen and Marines she helped save. She showed some pictures of her kids and her dog. She then received a call on her cell phone paid up the tab and was heading for the door. She seemed happy, almost relieved, then two more soldiers walked in the bar. The Major’s mood changed radically.

One was a Chaplain, the other a Master Sergeant, both most respectfully asked the Major to go with them. She ordered them out of her presence and said they would wait outside. The Major sat back down at the bar. The beautiful middle aged bartender, her dazzling features and her dark blue vest revealing much cleavage went to the Major and asked if all was alright. The Major said she will be when she gets where she’s going.

Another Soldier walked in with the tell tale ‘eagles’ on his collar, the Colonel obviously came to collect his Major. The Colonel, a tall white haired hard charger with movie star looks, sat down beside her and ordered a drink. “Could ya’ll excuse us as we take up this end of the bar?” It was amazing how even the assholes in the bar quietly granted the Colonels request as we all shifted toward the door, leaving the soldiers to talk.

As I drank we all could not but hear the discourse. The Major, she had lost her house in Lindenhurst, it was foreclosed on, her son was in critical condition (motorcycle accident) at Good Samaritan Hospital in West Islip, her daughters left her to live with their grandmother, her husband had been killed in Afghanistan about a year ago, he was a command officer with SOCOM, (Ranger). The Major had only her little dog, which she spent her last money on at the Veterinarian.

The Major had her dog in her car, which she lived out of when she could not get a place on base. She was going to leave the dog with her best friend and effect her last required duty. I was impressed with her right away, she was a natural attention getter even in her mid 50’s. The Colonel spoke in a low whisper, the Major, she did not.

“I refuse to go with you anywhere, nobody helped me in Iraq, no one helped me here when I asked for help and no one is going to help me when I leave here. I’m not going back to base, I’m not going to a unit review, I’m not going to let you take my dignity…I will go my way quietly with honor…I earned that.” “I will be back in here with the Chaplain and we will walk you to your car Major.” “Your not walking me anywhere Colonel.”

The Colonel got up quickly and backed away from her, as he turned around toward the door I saw the butt of a small automatic disappear into a small hand bag the Major held to. The Major asked the bartender if there was another way out of the bar. The bartender pointed to the back and gave instructions, as the Major got up she dropped the photo album and a picture fell out, the Major picked it up, put it in the album, started walking toward the door and collapsed.

We all quickly surrounded her and called an ambulance as the Colonel, the Master Sergeant and the Chaplain came in. When the Major came to she said she was O.K. and had to go. The bartender asked ‘where’ the Major said, “to be with my husband.” She was going to kill herself. The stress of having her life go to hell and then having pulled a gun on a Flag Officer overcame her.

I gave the Major a card to the DAV (Disabled American Veterans) and contacted a person I knew who was a County Liaison to the VA. At the objection of the Colonel, she was taken to the VA. Under a whole set of new laws, the Major will have rights at the VA the Army cannot step on. This powerfully impressive woman, who looked alright, could walk and chew gum at the same time, who could lead people, was a broken person.

This is one story about a woman who just happened to be in the service. As I walked around the corner with tears in my eyes I thought of the other broken people, those who sit on the edge, who are a heartbeat away from loosing a house, loosing a loved one, loosing a job, loosing a friend, and/or loosing the will to live. I thought about those hurting, about those drowning themselves in their cocktails. I knew the demons she was loosing to.

You may ask, what do you mean by ‘a broken person’. A person who is so overwhelmed, overcome or stunned, “they cannot will themselves into a positive frame of mind or actively suppress or hide the fact they cannot overcome a life changing trauma”. (paraphrasing Dr.Yeates Conwell, a professor of psychiatry at the University of Rochester Medical Center.) Many people are walking around among us ‘broken people’ and are only a trigger event away from disaster.

Sure, all of us are going through something in life but many of us do not have people who support or help, there may be no treatment or medical attention for someone who may need it. Some people have the resources to recognize ‘something is wrong’ and do something about it right away. Many people, mostly men deny anything is wrong with them even though everyone in their lives see them going to pieces.

Some broken people know something is wrong with them but work hard to put up a façade to hide it, they look good, they talk good, they walk good but feel and think really bad things. Who are these ‘broken people;’ The Major who lost everything, the Police Lieutenant who is thinking of killing himself, the high school kid with self-esteem problems, the Corporate Executive who has to fire his long time subordinates, the Bank VP who is closing her branch office and maybe you.

Usually one more event, sometimes something major, like divorce, like major illness or catastrophe will push a broken person into destroying someone or themselves. Sometimes it’s a very minor event that does it, a kid being called a faggot by the school bully, your boss shouting at you, your kid sucking his teeth in defiance after being told what to do, something triggers broken people to do horrible things…to step over the edge.

People forget history, the last time the Nation was in this condition its in now, businessmen jumped off buildings and farmers started robbing banks. Common people walked around dazed and stunned looking for work or something to eat, they had lost their homes, jobs and some even lost their families. I remember the stories my Dad, Grandfather, and Uncle’s told about the 30’s and how they had to pull together to survive.

History has repeated itself. Even the Secretary of the Treasury (a multi-millionaire) got down on his knees to the Speaker of the House of Representatives, begging her not to tell the world that “Bail Out” talks were in the toilet. Rich, poor, black, white, male, female, old, young, leader, follower, wise one or fool…anyone can be functioning ‘damaged’ in our society. We need to recognize it and offer to give what little help we can, even if its only advise where to get help.

Choose to give up your barstool, just don’t give up on this life. Trust me, it could be worse.