Matt Vogl — TEDxMileHigh TRANSCRIPT
So 16 years ago, I was working nights as a stand-up comic. And I’m not going to lie: right now I’d much rather be holding the microphone in my hand than having it strapped to my face like some nerd doing a TED Talk.
Comedy is full of crazy highs and lows. Some nights you feel like you own the world. I got to perform at Red Rocks. I got to work sold-out shows with people like Chelsea Handler, Dave Chappelle and Jimmy Fallon, with crowds so hot it’s like they were eating out of my hand.
But other nights, those are what comics call “hell gigs.” Like a three-lane bowling alley in Douglas, South Dakota, where the sound of the townies playing pool in the back room pretty much drowned out the smattering of laughs I was getting from the nine drunks half-watching my show, sleeping in my car because the Motel 6 they put me up in was so infested with bedbugs.
Yeah, all for a whopping 200 bucks. And believe me, back then, that barely covered my bar tab, much less gas for the drive home. But even when it sucked, the comedy life was amazing because I was getting paid to make people laugh.
And best of all, it provided the perfect cover for my misery. You see, a lot of people don’t realize there’s a huge difference between being funny and being happy.
I was really funny. And I was really miserable. Lot of comics I knew were the same way. Night after night, we’d go on stage and tell drunken stories about how much our lives sucked and how miserable we were, and people laughed. They didn’t know we were serious.
I vividly remember one night. I did three shows at the Comedy Works in downtown Denver, and I killed each one. And then I went home, got drunk and spent the rest of the night researching ways to kill myself.
Eventually it got so bad that I wrote a note and picked a date. And then I bought a gun. Thankfully, a neighbor saw me crying, and intervened. She saved my life. It’s crazy how close I came.
But what’s even crazier is that almost dying by suicide wasn’t my rock bottom. My rock bottom came when I tried to access care in our snarled mental health system. Long wait list, yeah.
You’ve been there. Long wait lists, misdiagnoses, medications that made me feel worse instead of better. Hell, I even had a shrink fall asleep on me in the middle of our session and then have the nerve to ask me for my copay. That was my rock bottom. And I’m not the only one.
Right now in the United States, 80% of people with a mental illness don’t get adequate care for it. See, this is our mental health system – on a good day. It’s a simple case of supply and demand: more cars than the highway can handle, more patients than our system can treat.
We wait until someone’s dangerously sick, and then we scramble to find them care in a system that’s already overwhelmed. And if you need inpatient help? I’m sorry, but sometimes your best bet is to just go to the airport, fly somewhere else. It can be that bad.
So what’s a solution? Just build more clinics and train more providers, right?
Well, it turns out that’s kind of like addling lanes on the highway: it will ease congestion for a short period of time, but then, as more people start to drive, it gets worse than before. It’s something that urban planners call “induced demand.” And as we get rid of stigma and that remaining 80% tries to access care in the system, it’s going to get a lot worse.
Now, don’t get me wrong. We have amazing providers, and we need lots of them. But just building clinics and training providers? That’s not going to solve anything. We cannot clinic our way out of our mental-health-access problem.