In recent years I’ve claimed to be a mental health advocate…except that I’ve skirted the details of my story, which is like a raw wound, easily agitated and painful. May is Mental Health Month, AKA Mental Health Awareness Month, and so I remember another May day, now nine years ago, and the beginning of our journey towards help, hope, and understanding.
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My cell phone vibrated, and I glanced down. The text message popping up from my son Drew said, “There’s something wrong with my brain.”
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