A few weeks ago, a packet of news clippings arrived in the mail from a Progressive Populist reader in Iowa. A wide-ranging reader, this fellow clips from his local papers, and from the Des Moines Register, the Wall Street Journal and other national reads, then saves them until he has a good mass to send. Each bundle has a theme, and this batch covered farmer suicides. Reading them nudged me out of denial. Farm mental health was a subject at the Farm Aid conference in September, but I had pushed it to the back of my cluttered consciousness. It is a painful subject, but the message is clear: Take care of your neighbors. You have no idea what kind of decisions they’re having to make. Now I was reminded.
At the time of the conference, the concern was about debt and declining income. Farm income has declined 50% since 2013. Fifty percent!! — and the increasing challenges of climate change mean that many farmers can’t get their crops planted—too wet for machinery—or, in other places, are in serious drought. USA Today reported in March that, in nine Midwest states, more than 450 farmers killed themselves between 2014 and 2019. We can’t afford to lose even one.
There are lots of agencies that can help, if the at-risk or their acquaintances recognize the desperation. County health departments know where to turn, and Farm Aid has a hotline: 1-800 FARMAID (1-800-327-6243). Learn the warning signs and if you know someone who talks about wanting to die, feeling hopeless, feeling trapped or being a burden, and/or is drinking too much, acting anxious, agitated or restless, withdrawing, showing rage or extreme mood swings, it’s time to step in. If you feel you need to call for help, know that you’re not alone. Phone calls to suicide hotlines have gone up 41% in the last weeks. States as diverse as Massachusetts, Tennessee and Oregon are reporting more suicides than for the same time periods last year. You may save a life.
I hope that we all understand that a suicide affects everyone in the circle. Families are heartbroken, and communities are stunned when somebody takes their own life. It is a tragedy, a loss, for even those who don’t know them. In the case of farmers, with communities already losing young people, the loss of more friends puts a burden on everyone. And all the survivors need immediate support, which must be offered in a way that doesn’t assign blame. It’s time to take care of each other.
Days after the news clippings arrived, reports about COVID-19 19 began to trickle in. Suddenly, it was all you heard about. And the connection between anxiety over maintaining safety and the fragility of mental health is always a concern. The first time you put on a face mask—didn’t it feel silly? Like, “everyone is looking at me.” Now, it’s a statement: I’m being careful. We’re all in this together.
The call to sequester, whether to isolate ourselves voluntarily or whether to quarantine because we’ve been exposed, has put great pressure on folks. If you live on a farm, you are accustomed to days with only your own family for company. You may even look forward to the end of your growing season, long for the solitude and plan projects for when it’s too snowy (or, in July) too hot or when you’re too broke to go any farther than the mailbox.
Most people, however, do better when they get out and about every day. Maybe they just go to the store or meet a neighbor for lunch. The point is that we are herd animals, built to socialize. And, being forced into isolation just plain stinks. If you can reach out to someone, with a phone call or an internet chat, do it.
Stay in touch with your friends. Schedule contacts with your groups. If you’ve been laid of you probably miss your work buddies. Insecurity, uncertainty, fear, isolation, boredom all cause the anxious to become more-so. For our macho teen-aged population, the desire to rebel is even stronger when the kids are cooped up. They think they’re indestructible, remember? So, if you have one in your house, show how much you love them. Treats. Hugs. We gotta take care of each other.
When we started this grand experiment of virus defeat, I asked what we would learn. And we’ve learned a lot. One thing is that we CAN defeat a disease by sequestering and, yes, washing our hands, putting researchers on the task to find a cure. Just as disease rates go up to an appalling height, they fall. The number crunchers will have plenty to do before we know how it works, who’s most at risk, but the data will be better when there’s another epidemic.
Another thing we’ve learned is that everyone needs strategies for coping with the isolation and boredom. Better internet? Maybe. Less media attention on the threat? Maybe.
There will be a whole bunch of lessons learned, but I bet most of them boil down to “We gotta take care of each other. We’re all in this together. Treats. Hugs. Wash your hands.”
Margot Ford McMillen farms near Fulton, Mo., and co-hosts “Farm and Fiddle” on sustainable ag issues on KOPN 89.5 FM in Columbia, Mo. She also is a co-founder of CAFOZone.com, a website for people who are affected by concentrated animal feeding operations. Her latest book is “The Golden Lane: How Missouri Women Gained the Vote and Changed History”. Email: margotmcmillen@gmail.com.
From The Progressive Populist, May 1, 2020
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