Day 250: Disposable people

I didn’t expect the suicide of a guy I’d never heard of until today to hit me as hard as it has.  Someone I know well sent a tweet this morning that if you did “not feel comfortable” attending a man’s funeral there was link to the recording of it.  I’ll admit it provoked my curiosity because I wondered why someone would “not feel comfortable” attending the funeral.

There was a man named Trey Pennington.  Based on what I’ve learned this morning, he was a social media guru.  He brought thousands of people together across the world using the “power” of social media.  He had over a hundred thousands followers on Twitter.  He routinely traveled the world.

And this past Sunday, he parked his car under a tree near a church where he wasn’t allowed to be because of a restraining order connected to his divorce and ended his life.

Suicide makes many people uncomfortable.

I began to see tweets with links to posts about the man and the way he impacted the lives of others.  Blog post after post after post talking about him.  Expressions of pain and confusion.  Trying to grab onto any handle of understanding for what seems like a senseless tragedy.  Many of the usual expressions we hear after a suicide of “why didn’t he ask for help” or “I wish I’d known so I could have helped him” and similar things.

And the saddest part of all is I completely understood why Trey held a gun to his body and pulled the trigger.

(Note: before this post goes further, I want to make it clear that I am NOT necessarily talking about the people connected to Trey Pennington during his life.  The situation with Trey made me think about situations in my own life and that is what I will be referring to throughout the rest of this posting.  If you are a friend of Trey’s, know you are in my prayers as you deal with this and that since I don’t know you the things after this point cannot be about you as far as I know.)

As much as we don’t want to admit it, we keep a list of disposable people.

We talk a good game about caring for each other.  We get on twitter or facebook and write about how we’re encouragers and how we want to build up the body of Christ and how we’re so in love with community and building community and maintaining community.  We tweet about the great intimate gatherings of our close circle of friends and post pictures of our gatherings together that just uplift our spirits.  We tweet and post on facebook statuses snappy little phrases about finding joy in the Lord and how we all need to seek Him and that we will be fulfilled while at the same time talking about our “wonderful” church families.

And at the end of the day we’ll have done nothing to really encourage someone who is wondering why they shouldn’t just jump off a bridge and end it all.

Your trite phrases on twitter don’t help.

Your facebook statuses of ten cent psychology don’t make a lick of difference.

Don’t think for a second that they do.

Well, to be fair, it might make a difference to someone who’s worst problem that day is that they have a hangnail or their French press coffee had a few grounds in it.  But to someone who’s desperate and feeling like there’s no reason to keep going your status updates are meaningless.

Even sending someone a direct message on twitter or private facebook message of encouragement doesn’t really help that much if that’s the extent of your reaching out.

If you consider someone a “friend” that you only know online and you wouldn’t think of trying to do something to help them offline, they’re not your friend.  More importantly, you’re not their friend.

A good acquaintance?  Perhaps.  A stronger acquaintance than most?  I can go with that.  But friend?  No.

Almost a year ago I shut down my blog, deleted my twitter and deactivated my facebook page.  I went to a very dark place.  If it wasn’t for the fact I decided as a teen suicide wasn’t an acceptable answer I can’t say I’d be here to type these words right now.  I spent hours laying in a bathtub of cold water because the heat had long since dissipated.  I would lay on my bed and feel like I was physically unable to get up.  Tears would run down my face from crying out to God for someone…ANYONE…to show up and really give a crap about me.

I was attending a church with thousands of people.  I sat in their midst every Sunday and flitted in and out hardly noticed because I was hurting so much I just couldn’t bring myself to risk engaging for fear of being hurt again.   I put my wife through hell because I had hit the bottom of the valley and I didn’t have the strength to pull myself out of it.

I can count on one hand with fingers left over the number of people from that church who approached me out of concern.  (I know more than that approached my wife showing concern for her and making sure she was OK.  That’s all well and good and I appreciate they were concerned for her.  That didn’t help me one bit and I was the one falling apart.)

I had over a thousand followers on twitter and hundreds of friends on facebook when I shut everything down.   I can count on one hand the number of people who actually contacted me about it.

Most of these same people pat themselves on the back in social media about their concern for others and the ways they love to build community in the online and offline worlds.

But when I needed them almost all were nowhere to be found.

But part of me knows that had I actually ended my own life they would be out there posting things wondering why or expressing how they tried to reach out to me.

It’s because we’re disposable people.

When we’re in the midst of our times that we’re broken and need people to come along to help us we’re too much trouble.  We’d much rather hang out at the coffee shop or trendy restaurant or nightclub than spend an evening sitting in someone’s living room just letting them cry.  We can’t be bothered to invite someone to lunch who can’t advance our social ambitions or status just because they need to have someone tell them that they actually matter beyond being a number to put on the roll.

But when they do something drastic, they’re useful for a while because you can gain social media points by talking about them.  You can gain some status in your social cliques (that you deny having but are immersed in like the proverbial frog in a pot of warming water) by talking about the ways you reached out and how it saddens you so much that you couldn’t be the difference maker in their lives.   If they didn’t kill themselves and you COULD actually do something to help them come back, you don’t do it.  You talk about what should be done but you don’t do it.

Eventually that person is right back in the same place they have been because no one wants to invest in disposable people.

The other aspect with disposable people is that we put the blame of the situation on them.  It’s their fault for not reaching out.  It’s their fault for not seeking professional help.  It’s their fault for not joining a small group.  It’s their fault for not trying to be more outgoing.  It’s their fault for not investing enough into others to make real friendships.  It’s their fault…blah blah blah.

Most of these people are using all the energy they have to make it through the day and put up the facade that the world…AND MOST CHRISTIANS…expect people to be putting up each day.

They can’t reach out the way their accusers want them to do it.  Perhaps they’re introverted and social gatherings are hard for them to even attend.  Perhaps they’ve been battling issues in their home life that suck up all their energy.  There could be a myriad of reasons for why they’re doing what they’re doing but the bottom line is that they don’t have the groundspring of energy that the world and Christians expect people in difficult situations to maintain.

And the blame being put on them just makes them feel that much worse.

Seriously…stop and think about this.  If you’re struggling to just get through the day, to wonder why you even want to keep breathing and facing the pain of the day, how does it make you feel to have someone who could be reaching out to help you say that it’s your fault no one really invests in their lives and that you need to get over your problem so you can find friends?

Can you see how idiotic it is to do that?

Yet that’s exactly the position many of us take with the disposable people.

That way we can say we tried to help them.

And social media is a great way to get off that easy.

I’m not saying you can’t make friends via social media.  Over this year, I’ve developed some real friendships.  I have guys I’ve met on twitter like Michael Perkins who if he knew I was really in danger would get in his car and drive to my house.  However, the overwhelming majority of “friends” or people who would say they’re “friends” wouldn’t do that for me.  It would mostly because they don’t know me well enough to know the warning signs that something is wrong.  (Which, by the way, is an excuse I heard last fall.  People didn’t know.  I’m sorry, when your wife is tweeting or posting about her husband sitting in a bathtub for five hours at a stretch, that’s a big headline something’s wrong.)

I try to be a friend to the people I know via twitter or facebook.  I try to help when I can.  I send money the times that we have it (although not as much since I lost my job back in March.)  I offer to help people locally if they need it (although most people never respond to my offers to help.)

You see, I know I’m disposable to most of them.  I don’t matter at all.

But they would be lamenting in social media  if something happened to me.

That’s not the mark of a friend.  That’s barely the mark of an acquaintance.

We need to stop seeing other people as disposable.  If God brings someone across our path there’s a reason for it.  We need to not devalue that person because of what they can give us or not give us.  We need to stop trying to friend or suck up to people because of what they can give us as well.  We need to view people as God views them and show the same love and concern for them that God has for them.

If we call ourselves Christians then we need to reflect Jesus.  We have a bad habit of not doing it to the disposable people we see every Sunday.

I’m sorry if this post bothers you, upsets you or ticks you off.  I’m just being real as someone who walked the road of depression and struggle and challenge and desperation.

People who feel that way don’t need your false online expressions of concern or cliched phrases in passing when you cross our paths.

They need you to live out what you claim online that you believe.

(Repeating the disclaimer: in the above post, I want to make it clear that I am NOT necessarily talking about the people connected to Trey Pennington during his life.  The situation with Trey made me think about situations in my own life and that is what has been referred to in this posting.  If you are a friend of Trey’s, know you are in my prayers as you deal with this and that since I don’t know you the things after this point cannot be about you as far as I know.)

 

  • Liz Walter

    I don’t know who Trey was.  But I’ve read this over and over again and I’m not sure that I am getting your point.  Now, maybe it’s because I’m not in the churches you describe, so my understanding of them and expectations of them are not there…but basically you are saying that the Christian churches (big ones, the “God blessed” ones), aren’t walking the walk?  I’m with you on the social media stuff, really reaching out to people and willing to go to dark places with them, all of that.  But without sounding really ignorant, I feel like maybe I’m not getting your point about the churches. 

    I don’t and have never belonged to a popular Christian church, and I don’t really have social media friends, and I don’t, wow, honestly, I don’t have a lot of real life Christian friends.  (And truly, most Christians wouldn’t have me.) So again, maybe I just haven’t had that experience and therefore I don’t get it.  I have never been anywhere that said, all God’s people welcome.  Never I DO completely relate to what Meg E wrote, and I do agree that some people are hypocrites. 

    I think I have very low expectations of my church!  Maybe that’s it? Or is there is a cultural thing I am missing. 

  • Jennyrain

    I read this and have so many questions…been at the beach all week so am catching up on everything…

    Your questions and frustrations I can see from so many angles…having walked depressions ugly plank, feeling alone in a cast of thousands…then from the side of wbeing on staff at a mega church and having reached out unsuccessfully at times…understanding that church systems ate sometimes horribly broken and what looks good on a ppt screen doesn’t always translate into logistical reality

    Then there are those who I have walked with for years who, quite honestly needed to be out of my circle…who I gave and gave to but were toxic

    Then I wonder, why was Trey’s wife seeking divorce and why did she have a restraining order against him?

    There is so much of life that we will never fully understand this side of heaven

  • Meg E.

    About 6 months into my divorce, I came to the very painful truth that I’d been living under a lie about who my “friends” were and what I meant to them.  In fact, it went beyond just feeling disposable — I felt like a pariah.  My divorce came about for reasons that are so sickeningly awful it sounds like a Dateline story.  I feel like the stigma of what my now-ex had done to destroy our marriage and family made people push me away, as if what happened to me might contaminate their marriages and relationships.  I felt like people somehow even blamed me for what my ex had been concealing every single day of our marriage, that I brought things on myself.  That didn’t just come from friends, either, because this year certain family members gave me the “Well, what did you expect?” and “We told you so” speeches.  For the record, those are not in any way helpful.  (And they are not true either because when I broke the news about what my ex had done they were more stunned than I was when I discovered it.)

    Something that really hurt is when a woman who was a former neighbor of mine back in Seattle, whom I’d spent countless evenings with listening to her moan and complain about past and current relationships, suddenly popped up out of the blue with an email in which she asked “So whatever happened with that whole [ex] thing, anyway?”  ARE YOU KIDDING ME???  THAT’S how you ask about the most devastating thing a mother of three young boys can go through — the complete collapse of her marriage, family, and future?  Way to show some compassion and understanding about an act of total betrayal in the most intimate of human relationships.  I got very angry because someone I had considered a close friend not only couldn’t be bothered to be there for me during those first awful months, but then treated my crisis like a car accident to come gawk at.

    Needless to say I did not respond to that email, nor the “Hope all’s well” one that came three months after that.  I think she got the hint because it’s been a long time since that last email.  Either that or I stuck her email address in my Spam filter.

    Thankfully, God helped me use my divorce to do some “house-cleaning” and now I not only know who my true friends are, but I have the appropriate expectations about the different levels of friendship I have with people.  I know who will take my calls in the middle of the night.  The number may be really small, but I know them to be fiercely loyal and that’s what counts.

    • Liz Walter

      A “friend” of mine did something similar to me….my life was falling apart and she asked me over text message “hey what’s up with that whole situation”.  I deleted the text and never replied to her.  Like you, I had spent countless hours at her side, helping her through things. 

      Your last paragraph is gold.

  • Mrspa

    Very true.
    I am guilty, too.
    I have also been on the other end.  My wife was killed May 30, 2008.  At the memorial of ~1000 people, I ended my tribute to my wife with a request that people reach out to me because, as an introvert, I would retreat to, and hide in, my cave.  I do.  There is ONE person who has kept in regular contact with me over the last 3+ yrs.  I so appreciate her.  I try not to dwell on the other 999!

    • http://www.mustardseedyear.com Jason Wert

      I’m so sorry you had to go through all of that. I’d like to say I’m surprised at the lack of response. :(

  • http://kriscolvin.com Kris Colvin

    I appreciate this post – I hate life was a living hell for you for a spell and hope it’s better now. I really don’t know what else to say about it, but I admit I have felt the same way at times. For all the people who indicate I “matter” in some way, I still feel awfully alone sometimes. I do know, part of that has to do with expectations… if I say or do something and don’t get the expected response of concern (for what makes sense in my head), I feel closed down or unloved or shut out. But maybe the other person would hate to know I feel that way. Just something to watch – instead of closing off if we just speak up and say what we need, maybe we would feel less disposable. At any rate, if you are on Twitter, I’d like to know you better. I’m @kriscolvin there. (And I was a friend of Trey’s who did not get to meet him yet in person.)

    • http://www.mustardseedyear.com Jason Wert

      Thanks Kris for the invite to connect and the comment. 

  • http://katdish.net katdish

    I’ve heard of Trey Pennington. At least I’ve heard the name. That’s really horrible. Divorce is so painful. I’m sorry he felt like suicide was his only way out. Doesn’t really matter who he was or who he wasn’t, he’s left behind people whose lives will be deeply affected by his death. Not his twitter followers or his business contacts, but his wife, his kids, grandkids and other family members and close friends. A few months back a work associate of my husband’s whom we considered a friend (they went hunting together & we’ve had dinner with him and his wife) followed his estranged wife and her boyfriend to a hotel where he shot and killed his wife, her boyfriend and then himself. My husband knew about the separation. He had seen his friend days before and commented to me that he seemed very down. Never in a million years did my husband think his friend would do something like this. He may have been separated from his wife, but he loved his children so much. They were the apple of his eye. He was an intelligent, quiet and graceful man. Everyone was shocked and devastated by what happened. I want to believe he would take that moment back if he could. Perhaps everyone who successfully kills themselves leave this earth wishing they could take it back. Maybe not. When you lose all hope, what’s left? In this case, what was left was 5 children ranging in age from 3 to 23. Two without a father (the boyfriend was married w/2 children) and three left as orphans–no mother or father.

    I mourn more for those left behind to pick up the pieces than I do for those who take their own lives. I’ve been in darkness before. I know the temptation to make the pain go away. But you trade your own pain for the ones you leave behind. Not to mention the guilt that they could have done something to stop you. That’s a very heavy burden to put on anyone’s shoulders. Let alone a child. And the truth is, many people simply don’t know how to help pull someone out of the darkness. Even if it’s someone they care for deeply. Life is sometimes brutally painful and there really are no quick fixes or easy answers for those suffering through it. I suppose that’s why we’re supposed to put our hope and faith in Jesus, because people will almost always disappoint you.

    Sorry for the long comment. And I will pray for those who knew and loved Trey Pennington.

    • http://www.mustardseedyear.com Jason Wert

      Thanks Kat.  I’m so sorry to hear about your husband’s friend.  When that darkness gets overwhelming the most horrific of choices can seem so reasonable. 

  • http://twitter.com/weshoward Wes Howard

    btw – I wasn’t saying in your example that you were expecting staff to notice, but a lot do.

    • http://www.mustardseedyear.com Jason Wert

      Oh no, I don’t expect them to notice.  But let me ask this…let’s say (for discussion sake) that members of a church bring it to a staff member’s attention.  At what point should a staff member then be expected to act in some way?

  • http://twitter.com/weshoward Wes Howard

    Just curious, when you were at the church of thousands and were hurting and needed someone to reach out to you and not just your wife…were you in a community group? Because if you are in a church of thousands, that’s where your support comes from. You can’t expect the staff to always be there and notice when you delete your Twitter or facebook and stuff…like you said, there are thousands. 

    • http://www.mustardseedyear.com Jason Wert

      At that time, no. We had signed up for a community group but the leader bailed on it after one meeting.  We asked for another one and never heard anything back.  

      • http://twitter.com/weshoward Wes Howard

        That sucks that the leader bailed. Was that the only time you were in a group the entire time you were at the church? I ask because surely there were some people in a group that you were in with before that could have been there. Hate that happened.