How do we fix this?

Pardon the tone you might hear throughout today’s blog, but I am deeply sad. And angry. And honestly, all of my emotions feel cliché at this point.

Mass shootings have become so standard that our response is almost scripted: argue about gun control, point fingers, wait for the next news cycle, and then move on. Rinse. Repeat. Nothing changes.

Maybe I’m angry because Brown University is less than an hour from my house. Because I have former students at Providence College. Because as of Monday at noon, Providence students were still scheduled to take in-person finals—as if two and a half  miles away there hadn’t just been a mass shooting that left two students dead, nine hospitalized, and an entire campus facing a lifetime of trauma.

Just carry on. Look over here. Nothing to see there.

By 3 p.m., Providence College cancelled in-person finals. Professors offered options: take the grade as-is, take the final online, or take an incomplete and finish next term. My assumption? The volume of calls from parents—and probably lawyers—became impossible to ignore.

As I write this, the person of interest has been released, the gunman is still on the loose, and the message seems to be: everyone just carry on. And in case you are wondering, I wrote this on Monday, and let myself cool down for a few days before editing- and the above statement is still true. 

Are we forgetting the Boston Marathon? When the perpetrators couldn’t stand that they hadn’t been caught and came back out to murder again and create more chaos?

I get it—we can’t hide our entire lives. But we can pause. We can say, “Finals don’t matter that much in the grand scheme of life. Go home. Be with your families.”

Brown costs upwards of $70,000 a year, before room and board and means.  Is this truly the best we can do for student safety? No cameras? No locked doors? No security? Or maybe there was—but no one wants to say, “Hey, that guy doesn’t belong here,” for fear of hurting someone’s feelings.

And here I am—pointing fingers. Not my intention. But it’s hard not to call out basic safety measures.

So I’m shifting. Because the real issue—the one we keep skirting around—is mental health.

And I use that term very broadly, because mental health is a million things, just like physical health is a million things. The problem is that we throw the phrase around as if it’s an answer. As if saying mental health somehow fixes very specific, very layered issues.

The biggest problem under that umbrella?

Loneliness.

We are in a loneliness crisis—especially among our youth. And loneliness can be visible, but more often it’s invisible. I tell my students all the time: you can be perfectly at peace being alone, and you can feel desperately lonely in a room full of people.

The loneliness epidemic was already underway thanks to cell phones—isolating us under the guise of connection. Then COVID put it on the fast track: isolate, isolate, isolate. Physical distance. Zero oxytocin. Fully plugged into dopamine devices. And then one day we were told, “Okay, threat’s over—pick up where you left off.”

But no one came out of the pandemic the same way they went in. Not adults. Not teens. Not kids.

So the question becomes: How do we fix loneliness? And how do we even recognize it when someone looks fine?

Step 1: Assume loneliness.

Step 2: Create connection.

Create opportunities for connection.

Create communities of connection.

This is why we want kids in sports, band, theater, student government, school newspapers, DECA, Junior Achievement. These spaces are where connection happens. They introduce stress in a healthy way. They ask kids to be vulnerable, to step out of their comfort zones, to find people with shared interests, and to feel the support of a tribe cheering them on and standing beside them.

Connection is the antidote to loneliness.

I’m not claiming originality here. I’m an observer. A reader. This information is well-known in psychology, research, and addiction treatment circles. But we don’t do nearly enough to bring it to the mainstream—especially to the people who need it most: parents.

Connection is a basic human need with both mental and physical benefits. Humans will find something to connect to. Ideally, it’s a social circle that builds them up, a family that feels safe, a place where they can be fully themselves.

But if not, they’ll find something else.

For some, it’s drugs. Addiction has masked mental health issues for decades. Drugs aren’t the problem—they’re the solution someone found to numb anxiety, depression, trauma or pain. And yet both the substance and the person using it take the blame.

For others, it’s food. Or restriction. Or exercise. Or shopping. Or pornography. Or endless scrolling. They’re chasing dopamine—the kind that connection is supposed to provide.

If you don’t follow Scott Galloway, please do. He speaks in a way people can actually understand. Recently on Oprah (yes, Oprah is on YouTube), he talked about how rage unites—how common anger creates connection. And he warned about propaganda on all sides radicalizing not just our youth, but adults too. Hours and hours online. Down rabbit holes. On parts of the internet many of us don’t even understand.

If you watched Adolescence on Netflix or listened to the podcasts that followed—this is not theoretical. This is happening.

Mental health isn’t new. Talking about it openly is new. In the past, drugs were often the easiest escape. Now, the outlets are endless—and the consequences don’t just affect the individual and their family. They affect everyone.

If we don’t stop and shift our focus toward connection—in our homes, our schools, our communities, our workplaces—we will continue to miss what’s right in front of us.

This post has tentacles. I touched on huge issues quickly, and none of them are casual. I’m trying to write a blog, not a book—but I promise to keep writing and keep chipping away, because this matters.

Within 48 hours we had mass shootings in Australia and Providence. We had Rob Reiner and his wife Michelle murdered by their son. And in the city I call home, a domestic incident that ended in murder. Knives. Guns. Different branches—same root.

These people aren’t just angry. They didn’t just snap. They are profoundly disconnected—from reality, from love, from empathy. They are beyond struggling.

So the question is: How do we reach people before they get here?

Early. And often.

With kindness. With empathy. With value—not things.

“Hurt people hurt people” is a cliché—and also not entirely true. Plenty of hurting people never harm anyone. But it’s incredibly rare to find a truly happy, connected person who goes out of their way to destroy others.

Connection matters.

And ignoring it is costing lives.

We don’t need another hashtag.

We don’t need another argument that goes nowhere.

And we don’t need to wait for the next tragedy to act like we’re shocked.

What we need is connection—real, messy, uncomfortable, everyday connection.

Connection at the dinner table.and in our car rides. 

Connection in our schools, and in our classrooms. 

Connection in our communities, teams, clubs, and workplaces.

Connection that notices who is drifting, who is withdrawing, who is quietly disappearing.

Assume loneliness. Lead with empathy. Create spaces where people feel seen, valued, and like they belong—before they go looking for that belonging somewhere darker.

This is not soft work. It’s not passive. It’s preventative.

If we want safer schools, safer campuses, safer communities, we have to stop treating connection like an extra and start treating it like a priority. Because when people feel connected—to themselves, to others, to something meaningful—they are far less likely to become dangerous to themselves or to the world around them.

We cannot fix everything, or everyone. But we can do something.

And something, done early and often, saves lives.

Connection isn’t a nice idea.

It is the antidote. 

Your frustrated and heartbroken friend,

Caitlin

Here are some resources for you to dive a little deeper…

Scott Galloway on Oprah- you can find him on most social media platforms as well!

Loneliess- one of the best videos to understand the Loneliness epidemic in less than 15 minutes.