Tuesday, August 31, 2010

GUEST BLOG: The Evolution of the Concept of Recovery

Recently I overheard two senior mental health officials discussing recovery. One said, “I think recovery is a very important concept.” The other replied, “I agree,” and then he whispered, “But what is it?”

Indeed, we have a field and a society that have been highlighting the importance of recovery—and that have had little agreement about its meaning.

The New Freedom Commission stated: “We see a future when everyone with a mental illness will recover.” This vision has inspired many to advocate for recovery at the state and national levels. In 2006, SAMHSA published the 10 Components of Recovery. The Recovery to Practice initiative represents the next step in implementing recovery.

In this new era of healthcare reform, however, we need a broader concept of recovery. We need a concept that gives hope to those of us labeled with a psychiatric diagnosis—and that at the same time can be understood by the rest of society.

Most persons with a variety of other disabilities cannot relate to the concept of recovery. Many think our concept of recovery means that people in wheelchairs will walk or that people with autism will be able to relate socially the way most everyone else does. These are not the primary goals of the independent living movement.

To frame recovery more broadly, we need to go beyond a narrow medical definition of mental health issues. For many years, professionals and researchers have described mental illness as a severe form of mental disorder, characterized by a permanent biological defect and a chemical imbalance from which recovery rarely occurs. In the eyes of this group, recovery would occur only if there were a cure. Countless studies have been carried out to define the supposed biological basis of mental illness. No consistent deficit has been found. It was believed that at best the illness could go into remission, during which the symptoms are managed. This is the maintenance model, which leaves persons who experience distress feeling hopeless.

Recently, through a dialog by the Steering Committee of the Recovery to Practice initiative, we have drafted a broader description of recovery:

[T]he recovery paradigm views mental health issues as challenges that a person can grow beyond through the assistance of culturally appropriate, trauma-informed services and natural supports in the process of the person building a full and gratifying life in the community of his or her choice.

This description fits with the goals mapped out for persons with all disabilities in the Americans with Disabilities Act signed into law 20 years ago:
  1. Equality of opportunity
  2. Full participation [in the community]
  3. Independent living [consumer control and consumer choice of services and supports]
  4. Economic self-sufficiency
This broader definition of recovery can also span the fields of mental health and substance use. In the substance use field, these elements are vital aspects of recovery. 

- Daniel Fisher, M.D., Ph.D., 
Executive Director, 

Monday, August 23, 2010

Remembering Henry Mardis

Henry Mardis has been a dear friend and volunteer for the MHA Compeer program for many years. He and his partner Jan are a constant fixture at Compeer events and the MHA Annual Dinner. This past year, they received the Compeer Volunteer of the Year Award.

This weekend we were saddened to learn of his passing. Henry has been fighting cancer for over a year. He will be greatly missed. Our thoughts and prayers go out to his wife, Jan and their children.

Henry and Jan are probably the most loved members of Compeer. The room lights up when they arrive. Whether it is spending special time with their dear friend, Becky, or in attending an event and making new friends, they are a great source of warmth and hope. Henry, a quiet man, shared his life with each member of Compeer. His wife Jan, more gregarious, is a perfect companion for this loving and gentle man.

Henry’s birthday was at the beginning of August, and he kindly celebrated with the Compeer family at a Hawaiian Party. Several members brought gifts and the happy crowd ate cupcakes with their dear friend. Even when he was very ill and limited in his social time, he always welcomed friends into his home and shared his enthusiasm for life. He is a role model for all a friend should be: compassionate, caring, funny, accepting and supportive.

He has taught us all a great lesson about how to truly live our lives with joy and compassion. We will miss him at our events, but he is always with us in our hearts.

Let us remember our friend as he lived-full of life and love.

--Kristen Frame
Compeer Coordinator

Never stop learning life lessons by Harvey MacKay

The link will take you to a column by Harvey MacKay that appeared in August 20th edition of Columbus Business First.


Harvey MacKay is author of Swim with the Sharks Without Being Eaten Alive

Friday, August 20, 2010

#3 Get Physically Active

As my silhouette increasingly resembles that of a lower case b, it would seem that I am not at all qualified to write about this tool in the Live Your Life Well  tool box.

I never liked gym class.  In the same way that the math-challenged question the applicability of algebra to the real world, I have always wondered when in life I will be called upon to perform a flexed arm hang.

Mastering physical challenges is supposed to provide children with all sorts of teachable moments and opportunities for improved self-esteem.  For me, physical challenges were the consequences  part of life's game show.

To be fair, gym was also the consolation prize for classmates who struggled in their other classes.  For a certain faction of the class, gym was their opportunity to express their creativity in ways that were not available to them anywhere else in the school day.  This is the only way I can explain the many innovative ways that the more physically capable found to torture me.  I have this very clear memory of walking to school wearing my gym uniform under my street clothes so that I would have to change in front of my classmates.  To drop trou was to invite the opportunity to get stuffed into your locker.

And just to keep my opponents guessing, I buttressed my "secret identity" defense with a second, even more clever strategem where I would actually change inside the locker.  No one was going to stuff me inside the locker when I could just as easily do it to myself.  This is the biggest reason that I don't have a gym membership today:  they don't make plus size lockers.

There are no baby pictures of me on a bear skin rug.  Like most parents of the Dr. Spock cusp, mine taught me a more than healthy dislike for my body.

Upon this foundation were laid the bricks and mortar of a lifetime of disappointment.  It never seemed to matter how much I applied myself, I was always going to look more like the Pillsbury Doughboy than Robin the Boy Wonder.  One year, while still in primary school, I was invited by my teacher to lie down on a sheet of kraft paper so that the class could trace my body for use as the outline for that year's Santa Claus.

Because of my size combined with a heady mix of the lack of interest and no apparent naturally ability, I was never anyone's first choice for games--unless we are talking about Monopoly.  Floor hockey, dodge ball, soccer:  it didn't matter what the sport was, the captains would pick the student whose leg was in a cast and arm in a sling before they would pick me.

To her credit, my mother kept trying to find a sport for me.  She enrolled me in Judo class which, quite frankly, felt too much like school.  Not that it was academically rigorous, but that I was forever being tossed and pinned by my fellow students.  Plus, it provided yet another locker room and yet another time to change my clothes.  So, while my fellow students were learning the quiet confidence that comes from mastering one of the martial arts, I was developing chronic childhood anxiety.

One of the things that we did as a family for many years that was physically active was downhill skiing.  Every Saturday morning during the cold weather months, we would pile into the family station wagon and head north of town  for ski lessons.

People are drawn to skiing for a number of reasons.  For some, it is the thrill of the downhill slalom; for others it is the opportunity to try the different levels of trails offered by the ski hill; still others are motivated by the society of apres ski.  I was inspired by the movies.

Skiing, like so many sports, always looks better on film.  Lone figures on a remote hillside high above the tree line cutting graceful arcs into the virgin snow pack and accompanied by a full orchestra:  what's not inspiring about that?  Warren Miller has made 59 feature length documentaries crammed full of just such images.

The reality of skiing is just a little bit different.  Ski hills, at least the ones that I have been to, are generally full of people and there's never an orchestra to be found.

Ski hill operators make every effort to provide a variety of experiences for their guests.  They cut trails to meet the needs of all skill levels, but the guests get to pick their own routes to the bottom so it is not uncommon to have highly experienced skiers on the bunny hill and totally inexperienced ones on the intermediate, or even the expert trails.  And then there are the fearless children--anywhere from about 8 to 14 years--who are not so much concerned about trail selection as they are about pointing their skis toward the bottom and trying to see how fast they can get there.

For those who are not familiar with the sport and may have only seen the movies that I have seen, skiing is surprisingly noisy.  There is the sound of skis as they slide across snow and ice accompanied by the muttering and inevitable cursing when simple turns go wrong.  That sound is then multiplied by all of the other lost souls hoping to live to see the hot chocolate stand at the bottom of the hill.  So you don't always notice the sound of a Thinsulate covered bullet whizzing down the hill until it's right on top of you.  If you're lucky, you'll turn just in time to see a goggle-wearing blur streak across some part of your skis before you find yourself in a tangled pile of skis, poles and flop sweat.

Ski school is designed to provide students with a basic skill set and the tools necessary to survive such situations.  It is for this reason that the first lesson is not about how to ski, but about how to fall.  They acclimate you to this, because for the novice skier, it is an all too common occurrence.

Later classes deal with learning how to control your weight.  It is by shifting weight from one leg to the other that students learn basic turns and how to control their rate of descent.  The instructors, who I now recognize must, as a job requirement, have the patience of saints, start you off learning how to make long traverses across the face of the hill, short turns and then long traverses back.  At this point on the learning curve, turning is very challenging because until you master the shift of weight to your downhill ski, you are going to fall.  As you progress, the length of the traverse gets shorter until, like the subjects of the Miller films, all you are doing is turning; more accurately, you are constantly shifting your weight from one ski to the other.  And once this technique is mastered, a student can graduate to downhill racing.

I was never interested in racing, but it seemed as though each season of ski lessons would end with a downhill course.  The only difference from one year to the next was the distance between the gates.

One year--I think I was 7--I showed up for the final class and the inevitable race.  This was a very long time ago and so I am no longer confident in the details although I seem to recall it was a bright sunny March day.  I think at the time I had a bright yellow ski jacket with green stripes.  I don't recall the run through the course, but I do recall the award ceremony later that day.

Many a Saturday, the highlight of all of this physical activity was a trip to the local bakery and the fresh-from-the-oven sticky buns that we would enjoy on the long drive home.  I was thinking about that and how long it was taking to award all of the trophies.  There would be a crowd at Page's and no sticky buns.

And then they called my name.

Nobody who has ever met me would imagine that I had ever earned a trophy in a sporting event, let alone skiing.  But I do.  More than 4 decades later, I still have my trophy and, like most athletes, I keep it in my sock drawer.

It's about the size of a double-wide doorstop.  A wedge of, let's say mahogany, with a brass disk featuring the screen printed image of a skier, and a second plate containing my title as "Most Improved Male" for my age class.

Never a household to indulge in prolonged basking, I think it may have been at some point during the drive home that it was pointed out that I was the only male in that particular age group.

The point of promoting physical activity is that it can change your brain chemistry, alleviate stress, impact physical health and alter your perspective.  I may not always practice what I preach, but I know this is true.  You don't have to be the best at whatever your activity of choice might be.  It doesn't matter what you take up, there's always going to be some 8 year-old who is better, or faster at it, but it matters that you do something.

After my big win, I elected to give up competitive skiing.  Nowadays I focus on getting out to walk my dog.  After spending most of the day in the house, these walks, whether they are around the block, or around campus, are the highlight of his day.  You can see it in his eyes.  He doesn't know or care what kind of a day I might have had, he just wants to go for a walk.  Once we are outside he is thrilled and overcome by all of the different smells.  Like my long-ago trophy, I win everyday with him just by showing up.

--Graham Campbell
Associate Director

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

GUEST BLOG: Getting Ahead Grad Joins the Y

My family and I took part in the tour of  the YMCA facilities to find out more information about it and the scholarships that the YMCA offers lower income people.  

I had already been quite aware of the YMCA scholarship and how to apply, however, I was not aware of  ALL the great benefits of a YMCA membership--until I attended the tour that was organized by Mental Health America for graduates of the Getting Ahead class for low income parents.  My family and I were VERY impressed with the YMCA facilities and extras--such as free child care while you are working out and the fact that a membership covers all parts of the facility, including the outdoor and indoor pools! I was very excited to learn about the Zumba fitness class and my daughters were about indoor soccer and gymnastics and my husband thought the weight room looked GREAT!  

Attending this tour was JUST the thing I needed to  motivate me to apply for a YMCA scholarship and I was approved!  Now thanks to the YMCA and Mental Health America---my family will be happier and healthier! Thank you!

Peggy Wachenschwanz

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

GUEST BLOG: PARENTS…A Perfect Response to Substance Use Among Youth

Remember when June Cleaver was the perfect mom? How about Carol Brady? Think back to how Cliff and Clair Huxtable were the ideal parents. What made them all great? What made us tune in every night to watch their families live life? Well, beyond the fact that they lived in “TV land” and that they always solved major family catastrophes in sixty minutes or less, they were present in their children’s lives. They interacted with their kids, they had regular sit-down dinners and they were involved in their children’s daily experiences. Most importantly, they listened to their children and parented them.

Today, in the age of technology, parents are often a second thought in their children’s lives. We allow laptops, DVRs, Ipods, PS2s and Facebook to parent our children and then wonder why they make the choices they do.  We no longer talk to our kids because they have repeatedly uttered the ever so over used line “stay out of my business,” and we have been obedient parents and heeded that request. Being a parent today isn’t an easy job. We have to juggle work, family, finances, laundry, grocery shopping, sports, extra-curricular activities, parent-teacher conferences, doctor’s appointments and birthdays, not to mention being “green” cooking with organic products and protecting our children from bullies, broken hearts and bad guys. It’s TOO MUCH! and most of us do it as single parents. We listen to the “stay out of my business” line when in reality it’s the “you don’t understand, you don’t know me or what I go through” line that is more important and truer! 

According to the 2009 PRIDE survey; Licking County youth reported that they use alcohol, tobacco and other drugs at home or at a friend’s house; that alcohol is the most widely used substance and, compared to national statistics, Licking County youth have easier access to alcohol, tobacco and marijuana and less parental disapproval of use…,but here’s the good news.

Young people today crave guidance. They (secretly) want rules and they (secretly) want you to ask all those questions that publicly they are unwilling to answer.  They want you to be involved in their lives and they want you to hold them accountable for their actions and behaviors. They want you to show interest in the person they are and the person they are becoming. In short…they want you to be their parent, not their friend! The best part of it all, thanks to June Clever, Carol Brady the Huxtables and even our own parents, you already knew that! Think back to those classic TV sitcoms, they always ate dinner together as a family, the parents were always asking their kids “how was your day honey” and their children’s friends, always talked with mom and dad when coming over to the house. 


--Bobby Persinger, CIRS, OCPS II, 
Prevention Coordinator, Pathways of Central Ohio

Our guest blogger, Bobby Persinger was a founding member of our PAVE club (Prevent Assault & Violence Education) in 1997 as a 15 year old freshman at Newark High School. Today, an OSU graduate with a degree in counseling psychology, he works with youth as Prevention Coordinator 
at Pathways of Central Ohio and he credits his PAVE experience for his rewarding career choice. Bobby is a certified prevention specialist and crisis response specialist.