Back in my car, after the conclusion of the conference, I find my parking receipt. I make a wrong turn and exit into another lot, and am on the street without ever being challenged.

Meanwhile, back at the NAMI function: I say hi to Shannon Jaccard, NAMI San Diego's director of making things happen. Shannon, is young, personable, and very bright, with an MBA. The corporate fast track was her destiny, but something unexpected happened: Her brother was diagnosed with a severe mental illness. In no time, Shannon's career spun off in a new direction. She founded an organization, Compeer, devoted to mentoring those living with mental health challenges. She also went to work for NAMI San Diego and was recently elected to the state NAMI board. Earlier this year, she was the recipient of the worst possible news: brother Jeff, while supposedly being treated at a local facility, died while in restraints.

The reason for the restraints? Apparently, Jeff liked getting down on his knees and praying.

Lisa and I find our dinner seats at one of the tables. We are surrounded by fellow patients, but, with one exception, our respective illnesses do not come up in any of the conversations. Instead, we talk about doing things, what needs to be done.

I enjoy listening to other people's stories. But I find it refreshing to listen to people who have moved beyond their stories. It suddenly dawns on me that I have become one of these people. Yes, every day I have to deal with the challenges of my illness, but I am not my diagnosis. These days, in the company of others, I forget that I even have a diagnosis. I don't know if I could have said that a year ago. It is a liberating thought. Very much so.

Outside, in the car, Lisa asks me what I did with the parking receipt. I reply that she didn't give it to me. I humor her, anyway, by emptying my pockets. Then I spot a piece of paper on the dash. "Ha!" I burst out, totally vindicated. "It was here all the time." She takes it without a word and hands it to the attendant. It is a discount coffee coupon.

Sheepishly, I pull the parking receipt out of my shirt pocket.

As I said, this is a story about parking. We struggle, we manage, we exit laughing.