Are we listening? (Our youth examined)

In the early portion of the sermon given by my pastor last Sunday, he indicated that major depression and suicide in the United States has risen to such a shocking number that we should be calling this an “epidemic.” Some of the statistics he was throwing out there were hard to swallow. Not that I don’t trust his information to be accurate, but I personally needed to verify the data for myself.

I used the word “shocking,” but this is downright scary!

According to Blue Cross Blue Shield, the diagnosis of major depression in the United States rose 33 percent between 2003 and 2017. The alarm bells sound with greater urgency at the statistics showing a rise of 47 percent for Millennials (ages 18-34), and for adolescents (ages 12-17), a rise of 63 percent!

What is going on? In the same study, it was shown that Minnesota is one of three states with the greatest increase in major-depression diagnoses.

You might say that these statistics are only a result of overly cautious parents or doctors who might be diagnosing their patients unnecessarily, but here is another statistic: according to the Center for Disease Control, for the years 1999-2017, there was an increase in suicide rates within the United States of a staggering 33 percent. What do you know, that is exactly the same increase as major depression diagnoses within the same timeframe. I believe these statistics are related.

We can draw parallels from a variety of cause-and-effect issues facing our youth, but here I am going to look at one specifically: are our children and young adults being heard?

I am a father of five children and my two eldest fall within the adolescence range described by BCBS’s study. The pressure and stress facing our youth these days is as real as it has always been: there is school, schoolwork, peer pressure and sports. Culturally, I have noticed a shift away from physical interaction between friends, replaced by online communications through various mediums: social media, text communications through Snapchat, Instagram, Google Hangouts … and, in the case of my boys, online gaming.

I will not criticize directly how social structures change with the advancement of technologies, but our youth are not the only ones changing.

It wasn’t very long ago when I received my first text message on a cell phone, or the first time I was able to hold a device in my hand, ask it a question, and get instant results. I can’t imagine what my life would be like without this technology. It has changed the way I do business; I no longer need to stop and ask for directions, or use a telephone book, or memorize a phone number.

But … how much time am I spending on these devices? How often am I communicating with my children through these means? What part of this culture has more to do with how I am operating my life in the presence of my children than their own direct exposure to said technology?

In the days of my youth, I could guarantee that dinner would be on the table at a specified time each evening. My entire family was expected to be present so we could all have a meal together and share our experiences of the day. There were also specifically designated family times. Whether that was a board game night or movie night, we had the time to experience each other. Most importantly, my parents were able to speak directly with us. They could look into our eyes and see if something was bothering us, and could pick up on certain subtleties in our mannerisms that suggested there was a problem facing our complicated little worlds — and when armed with this information, they did something about it.

Are we, as parents, taking the same care? More importantly, when we do sit down as a family, where is our attention being given?

This culture — being ever progressive for the past 20 years — has left an entire generation disenfranchised of the human experience. When I work with the millennial generation, I find it more productive to communicate digitally versus face-to-face. It must be a very lonely way to go through life, to see empathy or sympathy drawn up with only an emoji or a meme, and not through another’s body language or physical contact, with a shoulder to cry on or an embrace that lets them know someone is there for them in a profound way.

It also must be a very frustrating existence, with all these children and young adults feeling that their voice isn’t being heard.

I look back at this last presidential election in 2016. The profound impact our younger generation had was greater than I have ever seen. Four years before, a person like Bernie Sanders wouldn’t have made it past Iowa, and Donald Trump would likely not have received the Republican endorsement. The reason for the success of these two candidates was their recognition of a powerful voice often unheard.

There are big issues facing our younger generations, with college tuition rates so high they are almost all likely to have substantial debt upon graduating. Then there is the issue of employment: if they are fortunate to find jobs in their respective fields, the entry level pay is hardly enough to support the very basic cost of living and health care. The list goes on, and much of this equates to a strain that past generations did not have to experience.

I think we all need to do a better job of listening. I think we all need to put down our devices and pay greater attention to the needs and problems facing our children. More than that, we need to do a better job of understanding the issues these young adults face, and make resolving them a priority in national, state and local discussions.

The only way to reverse these terrifying statistics is to pay attention to the cause, so that we might change the effect.

Remember, we are the adults here and, yes, this is our responsibility!

Writer Uriah Wilkinson is a local political contributor and a history buff.