The question is inevitably preceded by a very sad story about a loved one’s continuing fall from grace, the devastating impact it’s having on all those around them, and their inexplicable refusal to take medication, go to therapy, or even acknowledge that anything is wrong.
I can tell who’s going to ask the question almost before they speak—frustration is written across their faces. They have tried everything, yet they’re hoping against hope that I’ll have an answer.
I wish to God I did. I wish I could provide the magic words that would instantly deliver a happy ending. Instead, I’ve learned to come clean. You know what? I say. That’s the hardest question I’m ever asked, and it breaks my heart every time I hear it. I don’t have an answer, but I have some suggestions.