Brown: For me and others, reaching well-being means grasping the transcendent

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This column is part of a series of occasional columns regarding mental health in Minnesota, chronicling ongoing struggles, emerging progress and voices of hope.

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I began writing about mental health issues because a sinkhole of unexpressed emotion kept me, my family and many in my community from getting well for a long time. On the Iron Range, generational trauma is passed down like wedding silver. When I was 10, we lost my Uncle Scott to suicide. Scott was an evangelical Christian, but my immediate family had a different relationship with religion.

My parents believed in God but struggled to explain why to my sisters and me. We didn’t go to church until after my uncle died, and then only for a short time. I distinctly recall wearing a bedsheet tunic and a fake beard made of cotton balls to portray Moses at my first and only vacation Bible school. There’s a Polaroid picture of this very confused young prophet in a box somewhere.

I always struggled with religion because no one was more religious than my uncle, but it didn’t help him. If anything, it seemed to block him from seeking treatment that would have helped. When we stopped going to church, a friend told me I would go to hell. That seemed another arbitrary sentence from a supposedly loving God.

“The psychological and spiritual realm, to me, have close to 100 percent overlap,” said Callaghan. “Where does the psyche or soul end and where does it begin? Are the soul and psyche different?”

Callaghan used therapy and referrals to clinical treatments with parishioners, many of whom benefited from the extra help coupled with the community of church.

He said Christians believe literally in life after death, a central purpose for all believers. But he said even those who don’t believe in that still need purpose in life to thrive. Finding that purpose is central to good mental health.

“My sense is that everyone longs for however we define spirituality,” said Callaghan. “There is a deep longing for sense of purpose and dignity, a connection with the transcendent.”

He said society is fragmenting, not just along religious lines but also from increasing political and technological divisions. Not only are fewer people gathering at church; they’re increasingly not gathering at all.

For Callaghan and his church, the fellowship of religion provides that support. I’ve come to understand how a spiritual community can do this. Since I started writing this series, I’ve heard from others who find varied forms of community support amid the weight of mental illness and everyday anxieties.

I talked to the organizers of Duck Cup Memorial, a group of high school classmates from New Prague who lost their friend, nicknamed “Duck,” to suicide in 2001.

“He let us know he was struggling and had notions of taking his life,” said Dave Hruby, a friend and current president of the Duck Cup board of directors. “Back then, there was a stigma around the subject. None of us knew what to do. We had opinions but it was very uneducated. After break we went back to our respective schools and then later in January got the horrible news. Since then, we’ve visited his grave site every year.”

It was on the 10th anniversary of this graveside ritual that they asked each other what they would do differently. They decided their efforts should be geared to educating kids about the importance of getting help when needed.

The 12th annual Duck Cup Memorial golf tournament fundraiser was held this weekend at Creeks Bend Golf Course. The organization now funds about 215 mental health presentations in nearly 70 schools each year in honor of their friend.

Ian Lah, director of the Northern Lakes Arts Association (NLAA) in Ely, told me about the healing power of the performing arts he discovered by working with kids and community members.

“I think that the arts aren’t a full substitute for seeing a professional or medication, but I think they allow for another holistic approach to healing and recovery that can be accessed in a way,” said Lah. “It’s a way to experience something that’s inherent in all of us and, when we experience it, we can feel it work.”

Lah said he was told about ancestors that had been possessed by the devil. He now understands they were likely struggling with mental illness. That history of discrimination against the mentally ill was at the heart of the 2008 Brian Yorkey and Tom Kitt musical “Next to Normal,” presented by the NLAA last month.

Change is possible.

I heard from a man in Wright County who was grateful that a sheriff’s deputy and plainclothes social worker could respond to his wife’s mental health crisis quickly and effectively. This is how it’s supposed to work, and it can when our society better understands the need and demands an educated response.

“If you got options people can’t get to, you don’t have them,” said Brett Hart, vice president of behavioral health and mental health parity for Blue Cross Blue Shield of Minnesota. “So we are pushing solutions to individuals before the need even arises so they know, if the need should emerge, what the right solution is and how to access it.”

Dr. Michelle Sherman, a clinical psychologist in the Twin Cities, told me about her work easing the impact of mental illness on the family.

“Recovery is defined as living a life that has meaning, purpose and connection,” said Sherman. “It’s not equated with absence of symptoms. It’s about having people, purpose, a place to live and sense of being productive. It means having people you love in your life and using your gifts in some way. We have hope that everyone can experience those things.”

After my uncle died, I was allowed to keep something of his. I chose a pressed foil picture of a masted sailing ship navigating a storm. Someone told me he kept it because it represented the power of God to protect us from danger.

After I left home, the picture was boxed up with my childhood belongings, passing from apartment to house to house. A few years ago, I pulled the picture out of the box. The foil had been punctured and torn by rough handling, but you could still see the ship cresting the ominous waves. Tilting in the sun, the white waves glinted with bright light.

We are at sea, but there is a port in the distance for each of us. Months, years, even decades after a crisis, we may be surprised to find ourselves still here and in one piece. We may yet help others, and ourselves.

NOTE: If you are experiencing thoughts of suicide or self-harm, the 988 Helpline connects you with local resources wherever you are. Immediate aid in a crisis is always available. Call 9-8-8.

ABOUT THIS SERIES

Minnesota Star Tribune Editorial Board member Aaron Brown’s occasional series about mental health — chronicling ongoing struggles, emerging progress and voices of hope — began in April and concludes with his column today. The full list of subjects:

• “To heal generational pain, we must recognize and ease Minnesota’s mental health crisis” (April 27): The stigmas of the past are mercifully fading away, but the challenges are ongoing. See tinyurl.com/brown-crisis.

• “Relying on law enforcement to solve mental health crisis puts lives at risk” (June 1): Police officers today are “de facto mental health workers.” But should they be? See tinyurl.com/brown-police.

• “For rural patients, the mental health system can’t keep up with the crisis” (June 29): Limited capacity, greater distance to services, and a higher proportion of lower-paying Medicare and Medicaid patients make it harder to provide needed care. See tinyurl.com/brown-rural.