Carpools and T-Ball practice, which once ruled my schedule had now been replaced by something called a roadmap. A roadmap, that if closely followed, would come close to maybe guaranteeing a 70 percent cure rate. In the blink of an eye I had become a mom with a 30 percent chance of having their youngest child die before she reached her 7th birthday.
Let's keep talking about behavioral health for everyone. But let's stop talking about recovery for serious mental illness and start celebrating people whose brain disorders cause them to live with health challenges comparable to those experienced by cancer patients. The word we need, in the face of so much loss, is hope. Mental illness is not a choice. But hope is. Even in the face of tragedy, today I choose hope.