A Breaking Point

What comes next is up to us

I should’ve seen the signs.

I’ve taken hundreds of Uber rides. I should know better. But I was in a rush and gave the driver the benefit of the doubt.

The first red flag was a text asking me to confirm all my addresses; odd, since I was just grabbing a bagel and heading to the airport. Two simple stops. Hard to mess up and basically on the same road.

I got in. The driver asked again if the addresses were correct. I said yes. We started moving.

Just past my neighborhood, there’s a tricky intersection. Navigation says left. It feels like you should turn right. His GPS said left, but he signaled right. While on the phone with my sister, I calmly said, “Go left here.”

That’s when it went sideways.

He couldn’t let it go. He started arguing with me over a turn. I’ve dealt with plenty of high-stress situations before, so I stayed cool. I told him I wasn’t trying to backseat drive I was just helping him avoid a mistake.

I went back to my call. But he kept going.

“I told you to check the address so I could follow my GPS.”

“You did. And your GPS said left. You were going right.”

It kept escalating. Calmly, I said, “My friend, you’re being rude and unprofessional. If you want me out, just say so.”

He ended the ride. We turned around. I got out, called another car, and made my flight.

It wasn’t the worst thing in the world. But it rattled me.

Maybe if the world weren’t already so heavy, it wouldn’t have landed so hard. But everything is already so much.

Maybe that’s an understatement. Maybe not. If you’re feeling what I’m feeling, it’s like the floor keeps shifting. The norms, the rights, the basic assumptions we thought we could count on; now they feel up for grabs. It’s exhausting. Frustrating. Infuriating.

I was just in Los Angeles. What’s happening there is both terrifying and inspiring. People are showing up for each other, trying to stand up for their friends, family, and neighbors. It’s raw. Real. And urgent.

I don’t know where this all ends. But I do know this: someone has to meet this moment with clarity and conviction.

Because there will be a “next.” There always is. And whether that next is rupture or repair, we need to be ready. To fill the holes. To rebuild the systems. To imagine a version of this country that puts people over profit. Care over clout. Substance over spin. Individuals over ideology.

And at the core of all of that? Mental health.

We are hitting a breaking point. The headlines scream it. The stories are everywhere. But the story we tell about mental health is still too small. Too broken. Too individual.

We treat mental health like a personal flaw to manage in silence, like it’s yours alone to fix. That story isn’t just outdated; it’s dangerous. We’re not connecting the dots between current events and our collective mental health. It’s naïve to think that what’s happening right now in our country isn’t traumatic - that it isn’t affecting families, communities, and our shared emotional reality.

This isn’t just a crisis of individuals. It’s a crisis of systems of communities. Burnout, trauma, despair - these are collective symptoms. We don’t just need more therapy. We need a movement.

And yet, just as we need structural investment the most, the safety nets are being torn apart. Massive changes to mental health, addiction, Medicaid, vaccines, immigration, and more. The result? Inevitable trauma, people lost in the cracks, and a generation, especially in marginalized communities, left with nothing, worse off than they were before.

People don’t want another “just breathe” fix.

The demand is there. From parents. Educators. CEOs. Mayors. People want tools. Language. A map.

We need to stop telling people to just cope and start asking what it would look like to build a society that supports human flourishing and well-being. One where mental health care is prioritized throughout all our decisions.

Because here’s the truth: the next chapter isn’t written yet.

But if we want it to look different, if we want a future where people are cared for instead of cast aside, we have to start now.

We can’t keep waiting for things to get worse.

We can’t keep calling it “personal” when it’s systemic.

And we sure can’t keep telling people to tough it out while the foundations crumble beneath them.

This moment demands more than resilience. It demands responsibility at every level.

Mental health isn’t a side issue. It’s the lens through which we should be shaping everything that comes next.

And the people are ready.

The question is: are our leaders, systems, and policy makers willing to catch up?