In 2019 and 2020, I moderated hundreds of public testimonies from people across Colorado about their experiences with our behavioral health system.

Not experts. Not lobbyists. People.

A mother who lost her daughter to suicide.
A father who had to enroll his son in Medicaid just to get him treatment.
Senior citizens lying awake at night, terrified of what would happen to their adult son who has a disability when they are gone.
Teenagers talking about the friends they buried.
Siblings who lost a brother or sister to an overdose.

The emotions were always raw.

People yelled — not because they were angry people, but because they were desperate.

People sobbed as they described begging for help that never came, calling every number they were given, doing everything they were told to do — and still losing someone they loved.

The system didn’t work fast enough.
It didn’t work well enough.
And people paid the price.

Those stories never left me.
I still carry the grief of the pain and harm they endured.

Because the key word here is *people.*

We can talk about systems.
Programs.
Payors.
Budgets.

But at the end of the day, we are talking about human beings — families, children, friends, coworkers.

Behavioral health touches every single one of us.
If you haven’t experienced it yourself, you know someone who has — someone living with depression, anxiety, mental illness, or addiction. And let me be clear: addiction is a disease, not a choice.

Which is why what happened yesterday should stop us cold.

Late Tuesday, January 13, 2026, the Administration terminated nearly $2 billion in congressionally appropriated funding for mental health and substance use prevention programs.

Effective immediately.
No wind-down.
No transition.
No backup plan.

These dollars fund suicide prevention, addiction treatment, crisis response, and community-based care. Almost all children’s mental health programs were cancelled overnight.

We are talking about lifesaving care – for family members, friends, colleagues, entire communities.

These cuts will have serious consequences.
In some cases, deadly ones.

Substance use treatment will be abruptly disrupted, increasing the risk of relapse, overdose, and loss of life. Children will lose access to care. Families will be left with nowhere to turn.

This is shameful.
It is cruel.
And it is completely unnecessary.

I am enraged.
And I am heartbroken.
And like so many others, I feel powerless watching harm unfold in real time.

Yes, we must demand that federal leaders immediately restore this funding.
Yes, lawsuits will likely follow.

But while the damage is being debated and solutions are delayed, people will suffer.

And some of them will die.

Not because we didn’t know better.
But because we chose not to act.