This past week’s tragic killings at the University of California, Santa Barbara left another set of families devastated, having lost their loved ones senselessly. The parents of the alleged killer, Elliot Rodger, are mourning too. For the loss of others’ lives at the hands of their son. For their son, who was in therapy but who “did not meet the requirements for an involuntary hold.” (Source: nymag.com) For a world turned upside down.

And while I do think there is a related conversation to gun control (keep reading, my Second Amendment-loving friends), the more critical issue that needs to be addressed is how our mental health system and laws are failing us. And they are failing us all, as evidenced by countless innocent victims (including our veterans) this country has suffered over the past decade alone.

For those of you who know my family’s history, you know that my dad was diagnosed as having bipolar disorder (or manic depression, as it was referred to back then) when I was 16 years old. At the time, I didn’t truly comprehend the gravity of this, and had no idea that it was something that would shape and affect my whole life.

I ended up majoring in Psychology in college and was shocked to learn how textbook my dad’s bipolar symptoms were. While “manic” he wouldn’t sleep more than one or two hours a night, became extremely outgoing (uncharacteristic for his normally introverted personality), easily agitated, paranoid that people were “out to get him,”, and would spend thousands of dollars on random things (fishing gear, surfboard, computers) in shopping sprees. He once was fired from a job and bought a new, expensive car the very next day. He befriended law enforcement agents of all kinds, thinking that he might need their protection in the very near future. Oh, the irony.

On the flip side, when he was “depressed” he would sleep. For hours. And days. And weeks. I remember a 6-month stretch where he would wake up for one or two hours around 5 pm every day and eat. He didn’t shower. He didn’t shave. He wasn’t living – he was barely surviving.

Over the past 20+ years since his initial diagnosis, our family has gone through a roller coaster of normal and not-so-normal times. Years where he was “stable” thanks to medication (lithium), and then years of instability (after a change in medication). Moves, new jobs, jobs lost, the start of divorce proceedings (initiated by my dad during manic phases), arrests, a restraining order, legal separation and now a distancing from almost the entire family.

For years, besides a few close friends, I didn’t tell people about my dad. I wasn’t consciously embarrassed, but looking back, I must have felt shame for some reason. Maybe I thought it spoke into my own identity. Maybe I didn’t want to burden others with the revelation that my family was broken.

Because from the outside, things must have seemed normal. And herein lies the problem.

My dad’s disorder, similar to Elliot Rodgers’, is a type that allowed him to say the right words to the right people when it mattered. Like when the police came. Or when he went to buy a gun (multiple times). One store clerk even admitted to my mom (when she went to return the gun in secret) that my dad “seemed off” when he sold him the gun. And yet it was sold.

The most we were ever able to legally do was force an involuntary psychiatric “hold” for 72 hours – hardly enough time to receive proper diagnosis or treatment.

The worst failure in my estimation is that the law does not currently allow for family members to have access to mental health records or treatment without explicit consent from the patient. My mom was never privy to what my dad told the doctors about his current state of well being, nor was she allowed to know the treatment regiment he should have been following.

Two changes I think we desperately need:

• Restrictions for gun purchases for anyone receiving treatment for mental health (See this CBS article for an interesting summary of a constitutional law professor’s take on this)
• Access for families to mental records, doctors, therapist and anything else related to the treatment of patients (I know the President issued an executive order related to HIPAA laws this past January, but the changes require congressional action)

As I’ve grown older, I’ve realized that it ’s helpful and healthy to share about my dad. I have met several friends with parents who are living with bipolar disorder who can totally relate. And when people talk about dysfunctional families, I understand that “dysfunction” can take on many forms. There is a freedom and camaraderie in admitting that my family did not look like The Keatons or Cosbys either.

So, as we mourn together as a nation (once again) for the victims and their families, as well as for the perpetrators and their families, I welcome the opportunity to continue an open dialogue about these issues (the Mental Health And The Church conference was a good start). I pray that we can be more compassionate to those who suffer from mental health issues (for me, starting with my own dad). And I hope that our lawmakers have the courage to make necessary, meaningful changes. It is after all National Mental Health Awareness Month.

Your chemistry is not your character, and your illness is not your identity. –Pastor Rick Warren