Before Teaching Resiliency, Let Us First Teach Empathy

Last week, the Centers for Disease Control released a sad statistic: the U.S. suicide rate has increased 24% in the past 15 years. In the wake of this news, experts have tried to pinpoint a cause, and under pressure to forge a solution, some propose teaching resiliency as a way to mitigate this problem. Teaching resiliency, some point out, will help us deal with the inevitable pressures of life. But at the same time, teaching resiliency costs money, and programs which focus on resiliency are rare.

I'm no more an expert on this topic than anyone else. But, like many people, I have worked on projects which aim to raise awareness of mental health issues, namely the Campaign to Change Direction. On a personal level, I have shared space with friends in crisis, most memorably an afternoon with a high school friend, huddled under the stairs, as she talked about her struggles and her attempted suicide. I have visited a friend in the hospital after she slit her wrists. I have lost someone I love dearly to suicide, a father figure who took his life on Valentine's Day, a date which now serves as an annual, solemn marker of love lost. And I, myself, once in the depths of a sadness I may never be able to put to words, contemplated taking that lonely walk toward forever. It was a long, long time ago, when I was in a place that has since been healed. So, maybe I am an expert, just as we all are, as a side effect of the great emotional spectrum upon which we exist as a part of being human.

It is from this humble background that I suggest a different approach. Because clearly what we are doing now isn't working, and the direction we're going comes at a cost that is far too high.

Instead of focusing on the responsibility of the suffering – as if suffering denotes some sort of defect or shortcoming, something we could fix if only people would try harder not to let things bother them – let us approach this from a different angle. Before we place our resources into teaching people to deal with a problem, why not sever a taproot of the problem itself? Emotional self-defense is important, but it is only a bandaid for a growing wound. There is a decided lack of empathy in our world, and an overabundance of nastiness. Somewhere along the line we decided it was okay, preferable and even hilarious, to be mean. It's in our social media, it's in pop culture, it's on the school yard, it's in business, and good grief, it's in our country's politics, even at the highest level, among people who are setting the behavioral tone for our nation.

For far too long, we've neglected this ugly pathway, possibly because it involves looking in the mirror at a reflection we don't particularly like. But if we must teach resiliency, shouldn't we first look at the environment we've created that requires more resilience of ourselves? Telling those who are suffering that they must get “thicker skin” or “greater resilience” is like placing blame on someone for getting bruised when they've been injured. What are we doing that we need thick skins to protect ourselves from? And how are all of us, with our daily choices, contributing to these problems and pressures?

Instead of teaching how to harden ourselves to the world, let us soften ourselves to one another. Where we create a support system, we lift blame from the victim, and instead strengthen them through our compassion, empathy and love.

How do we do that? There is low-hanging fruit here, and a lot of it.

First, let us have zero tolerance for hate. Zero. Instead, let us meet hate with love and compassion. Let us stop celebrating people who are snarky, unkind, or outright mean – whether in the name of being clever, competitive or topical. Let us bring an end to liking, retweeting, reblogging, instagramming and rewarding comments, memes, shares and humor that exists at someone else's expense. Let us stop patronizing and making famous websites, news media, businesses and individuals who further their own causes or make money at the expense of others.

Let us change workplace cultures, so that people truly come first. Not big money. Not brands. Not special interests. Not Wall Street. People. Let us be honest with our employees when times are tough, and engage them in finding solutions during challenging times. And when we must trim staff, let us do it with respect, kindness and empathy. Let us not allow leaders to make subordinates feel small. Let us leave no room for coworkers who stab one another in the back to get ahead. Let us not expect people to endure unreasonable pressure, ridiculously long hours, years without vacations, or missed family time. Let us no longer reward workaholism, because workaholism is not victimless. Let us not raise up as heroes those who have a total lack of balance in their lives. Let us restore sanity to the workplace.

Let us stop suing one another. Let us stop blaming one another. Let us be less angry and more empathetic. Let us live with integrity and do what we say we'll do. Let us be transparent, not just because it's right, but because we have nothing to lose and nothing to hide.

Let us change how we spend our time at home. Let us think critically about our choices. Let us look upon beauty instead of lowest-common denominator entertainment. Let us measure the success of our lives by the people we have supported, by how much we have given at no personal gain, and by how many hours we allow ourselves to be at peace. Let us view true happiness as having just enough to get by, and let us not take more than is necessary, so that we can ensure others get by too. Let us be happy with less, because it gives all of us so much more.

Let us be humble. Let us build up others, instead of ourselves. Let us help our brothers and sisters live the lives they dream of – happy, fulfilling, balanced, beautiful lives. Let us be a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen, a hand to hold.

Let us allow the driver ahead of us to merge. Let us wave in friendliness, rather than flipping the bird. Let us smile instead of scowl. Whisper instead of yell. Breathe instead of scream. Let us meditate. Let us put the shopping cart back. Let us shovel one another's walks. Let us clean up after ourselves. And if someone has accidentally left a mess, let us make the world a better place by doing a little extra. Let us feed one another wholesome food and genuine compliments. Let us look out for one another, more than we think is necessary.

Let us plant flowers we know will bloom long after we're gone, for people we'll never meet. Let us pull weeds so they don't have to.

Let us remove profiteering from the healing arts and put the “care” back in health care. Let us make mental health support accessible and affordable. Let us vow that no one should lose their home, or their hope, because they have an illness and someone else wants to improve profit margins. It's just wrong. Instead, let us stun the world with our ideals. When our sick no longer have the energy to carry the burdens of life, let us carry them for them. Let us rediscover what it means to truly care.

Let us strive to purchase ethically whenever possible.

Let us walk in one another's shoes. Let us open our minds to the possibility that there is much more going on in someone's life than what we see on the surface. Let us make it an expectation of being human that we will treat others not just as we would like to be treated, but better. Let us offer to help early, often, and always.

Without a doubt, resiliency has value. But before we teach resiliency, let us first teach empathy. Let us teach kindness. Let us teach understanding. Let us create a deeply compassionate society and reward those who embody the ideals we envision for our nation. Teaching these values costs nothing, but it requires commitment from all of us.

We cannot remove all pain from life, but we can help one another through the inevitable rough patches. Let's stop blaming those who suffer, and instead look for ways to create a world that requires less resiliency.

If it seems impossible and idealistic, that is emblematic of how far we've lost our way. We can find our way back. Look in the mirror; start there.