My friend and colleague, Dr. Courtney Tracy, who is widely known as “The Truth Doctor,” recently responded to a question on social media asking about her experiences working in the addiction and recovery industry at a luxury recovery center in California. The question asked about the types of problems that people who can afford “recovery mansions” deal with while in treatment.
After providing some context to her response, she concluded with a sentence that struck me as being monumentally more significant than perhaps she initially intended.
She said, “money doesn’t prevent trauma.”
There’s no doubt that financial security is a privilege that safeguards us from experiencing certain forms of adversity and makes it so much easier to the essentials that we need to survive.
There’s no denying that having money can alleviate stress and anxiety about meeting our basic human needs.
With this statement, Dr. Tracy was debunking the misconception that financial security is some sort of all-encompassing shield that wards off any and all forms of mental or emotional suffering.
She was reminding us that there is absolutely no amount of popularity, recognition, or financial success that absolves any of us from experiencing adversity, hardship, and trauma.
To me, “money doesn’t prevent trauma” not only speaks to the stigma surrounding the connections between mental illness and money, but also to the societal systems that function as the most dominating antecedents and mediators of trauma.
Money — and particularly the money circulated via the virulent and forceful strain of capitalism that has severely infected America — isn’t going to save us from the trauma that results from deeply distributed downstream dysfunction, inequity, disparity, marginalization, and minoritization.
The human desire for power, control, and influence (particularly among folks who are already wealthy and sit in highly influential roles in America) is one of the most significant upstream causes of all of these issues to begin with.
It’s never really money itself that damages or repairs us.
Rather, it’s the environment, intention, and purpose in which money is distributed (or not) that dictates its impact.
There is absolutely no amount of money we can throw at mental health or trauma — or any systemic issue for that matter — and make it go away.
Yes, it’s imperative that we adequately fund organizations, programs, staff, and resources that provide critical mental health, prevention, and public health services.
But even still, there is no monetary figure on an annual spending bill or check to a charity that will instantly erase the diffusely distributed downstream systemic effects of trauma.
Yes, it’s vital that children, families, and adults have access to affordable, compassionate, trauma-informed, inclusive, and culturally sensitive care.
But even still, there is no number of social workers or psychotherapists that can shield a community from the consequences of reckless and self-serving politicking.
Yes, it’s important that we find ways to make health care (which includes mental health care) more affordable and accessible to the populations of people who need it the most by ensuring that communities have the financial wherewithal to seek and receive the treatment and support they need.
But even still, the government sending one single check isn’t a sufficient device to build momentum that addresses the adversity and trauma subsequent to financial insecurity and economic inequity.
Yes, it’s absolutely necessary that we continue to find innovative and digitally-enhanced ways to optimize health care delivery, reduce costs, enhance population health, and improve the provider experience (a quartet of goals known as “quadruple-aim”).
But even still, there is no digital health gadget, wearable, app, or amount of venture capital raised by a mental health startup that can single-handedly overhaul mental health or the healthcare industry in America.
Money isn’t going to save us from trauma, just as the wellness industry isn’t going to save us from widespread inequity.
I still don’t have all of the answers. I can’t begin to put into words just how much I wish I did.
I believe the solution lies somewhere in the nuanced and relatively unexplored grey space that we don’t like to investigate very much — especially now amidst extreme polarization in America.
We need short-term relief and long-term reparation and resolution.
We need therapists and social workers to provide the support, guidance, and resources we need right now and we need systems that don’t cause us to need so much support and help to start with.
We need adequate funding and ethical and responsible stewardship of that funding.
We need appropriate prioritization of funding and the flexibility to allocate those funds to communities and populations that need it the most, and during the times when they need it the most.
We need to address the harmful stigma, stereotypes, and biases about our minds and bodies right now and find ways to eradicate the variety of ways that stigma, stereotypes, and biases originate and are perpetuated in the first place.
We need to acknowledge that money itself doesn’t prevent trauma and money can be used in ways that make it easier to address and recover from trauma.
