by Kayla Myers, Peer Support coordinator

June 24, 2025

I’m a mom of boys, loud, messy, hilarious, curious, deep-feeling boys.

And if I’m honest, one of my greatest hopes, besides them eventually learning to do their laundry and clean up after themselves, is that they grow into men who feel safe being whole. Not just strong or stoic or successful. But soft when they need to be. Honest. Vulnerable. Supported.

Because here’s the truth, one I’ve heard from every mom of boys and quietly carried myself: the world still struggles to let our sons be fully human.

We tell our kids, “It’s okay to cry,” but somewhere between kindergarten and manhood, that message gets lost. Replaced by phrases like “man up,” “don’t be soft,” and “real men don’t talk about their feelings.” And those words don’t just bounce off; they sink in. They settle deep.

As moms, we see their hearts before the world tells them to hide them. We see the quiet anxiety before the tough-guy mask forms. We know the pressure they carry in silence, the self-doubt buried behind humor, the frustration when they don’t have the words to explain what’s going on inside.

June is Men’s Mental Health Awareness Month. And if it reminds me of anything, it’s this:

We don’t just need to raise good men.
We need to raise whole men.

Men who know it's okay to ask for help.
Men who’ve had practice expressing what they feel.
Men who’ve seen someone care about what’s happening beneath the surface.

Here’s what I’m doing, or I should say, what I’m trying, daily:

• I ask them how they’re feeling, and I try not to rush past the silence.
• I talk about therapy like it’s normal, because it is.
• I praise emotional honesty just as much as achievements.
• I work on asking for help myself, because they’re always watching.

In my eyes, no boy should grow up believing his feelings make him weak.

So, whether you're a parent, an aunt, a coach, a teacher, or a friend, be part of the voice that says:

You don’t have to pretend you're okay when you’re not.
You’re not less of a man for needing support.
You’re more of one for knowing when to reach out.

To my sons, and all the boys growing into men:
Your mind matters.
Your emotions matter.
You matter.

Let’s raise them to believe it.

(Edited and Enhanced with ChatGPT)

by Beth Ayers, Family Support Lead

September 10, 2024

September is Recovery Month. But What Does Recovery Mean for Families?

The word “recovery” is usually associated with addiction, sobriety, AA, substance use disorder, treatment, or abstinence. In healthcare, we associate “recovery” with healing after surgery, illness, or injury. In the recovery world, “recovery” from mental health disorders can look like managing symptoms, absence of hospital stays, improvement in mental health, or increased ability to function in day-to-day life.

Parents and caregivers of children with special healthcare needs including behavioral health, usually don’t see the word “recovery” applying to them or their families and especially not children who have life-long physical, cognitive, or developmental disabilities.

The Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA) defines recovery as “a process of change through which individuals improve their health and wellness, live a self-directed life, and strive to reach their full potential.” According to this definition, “recovery” absolutely applies to children with any special healthcare need, to their parents and caregivers, and to the family as a whole. Improvement in health isn’t only physical; it can be emotional, mental, or spiritual health. In family-centered care, the child or youth and the parents or caregivers are encouraged to participate in the decision-making process and plan of care. Their voice and choice matter and are essential. I believe it is every parent’s and caregiver’s goal to help the child reach their full potential, whatever that looks like for the individual.

The word “wellness” is often substituted for recovery. “Wellness” can be easier for some families to relate to than “recovery.” However, “wellness” can still be hard to identify with for parents and caregivers of children with lifelong health conditions or disabilities. “Wellness” is sometimes used to describe complete healing, perfect health, or being free from illness or disability. But the Global Wellness Institute defines wellness as “the active pursuit of activities, choices and lifestyles that lead to a state of holistic health.” Holistic health encompasses all aspects of a person’s being including emotional, mental or intellectual, physical, spiritual, vocational, financial, social, and environmental. Every child, regardless of their challenge, illness, or disability, can have wellness. I have a friend whose son has down syndrome, a genetic disorder that causes developmental delays and physical disabilities. I would describe him as living in wellness. He participates in activities such as sports including being on teams in Special Olympics (he even carried the torch one year!), art classes, and riding an innertube behind his family’s boat (he even loves the wipe out!). He loves his job at a pizza restaurant and told me the other day that he has been there 7 years. He enjoys volunteering as greeter on Sundays at his church and loves social interactions with his friends, family, coworkers, and everyone he meets. His life is full of purpose, fun, and wellness. He jumps out of bed everyday ready to take on the world. If that’s not “wellness,” I don’t know what is. SAMHSA “envisions wellness not as the absence of disease, illness, and stress, but as the presence of a positive purpose in life, satisfying work and play, joyful relationships, a healthy body and living environment.”[1]

Looking at the definitions of recovery and wellness, I would say they are interchangeable and possible for everyone.

Our recovery and wellness journeys are not straight lines. They come with ups and downs, forward and backward movements, stops and starts, and plateaus. They do not have a beginning or ending point. They are unique to each individual. Your recovery and wellness are defined by you alone. Recovery and wellness can take many paths. SAMHSA has developed 10 Guiding Principles of Recovery (and Wellness, added by me). Recovery (Wellness):

• Emerges from hope
• Is person-driven
• Occurs via many pathways
• Is holistic
• Is supported by peers and allies
• Is supported through relationship and social networks
• Is culturally-based and influenced
• Is supported by addressing trauma
• Involves individual, family, and community strengths and responsibility
• Is based on respect

My recovery/wellness journey began before I had children, but I wouldn’t have described it as such. From an early age, I learned what I enjoyed and what I was good at. I learned coping strategies for the ups and downs of life. Unfortunately, instead of leading me closer to wellness, my coping strategies were destructive to my health and wellness. Learning new ways to cope has been part of my journey. I have found hope and social networks in support groups. I have tried different pathways, some leading to recovery and wellness and others not so much. One pathway I tried repeatedly could be described as a tightrope. I would start at the beginning, finding my “balance” by doing everything “right.” With wellness on the other end as my goal, I would carefully make my way across. But inevitably I would make a “wrong” move. I couldn’t seem to hold it together long enough to get to the other side. I would get angry at my child or spouse; I would not get my responsibilities done; my life wouldn’t go the way I was hoping; my child would misbehave obviously due to my poor parenting; my feelings would be negative; I wasn’t doing it perfectly. And just like that, I had fallen off my “path.” Usually, my fall from the tightrope led me to those destructive coping strategies to deal with my feelings of failure and hopelessness. Eventually, I would pick myself up and go back to the beginning and start over. Always trying to hold it all together long enough to reach the other side and the wellness and safety I thought waited for me there. I have learned to take a different path of recovery and wellness. This alternative pathway is a trail. There is no end to my recovery/wellness journey, no point when I arrive at total wellness. I get to experience wellness as I move along the trail. Somedays more than others. There are times I “fall off” the path. But unlike the tightrope, I just step back on. Sometimes I get lost in the forest and have to find my way back. Sometimes I turn around and go back aways. Sometimes I sit down stubbornly refusing to continue on. As I look back at my pathway, I see how far I have come. Despite all the detours and wrong turns, I have made progress. Unlike the tightrope requiring perfection where I continue to have to start over at the beginning, my new pathway is more gentle and forgiving. I learn how to offer myself and others grace.

My recovery/wellness journey has also included, at different times and not all at once, professional counseling (individual, family, and marital), sponsorship and mentoring (getting to be both sponsor and sponsee), support groups, church groups, self-help and leadership development books, peer support trainings, exercise, developing healthier eating habits, crying (studies have shown the healing power of tears), prescribed medication, self-care such as rest through meditation or fun with hobbies I enjoy (snuck into the tiny bits of free time here and there), quiet time and prayer, traveling, spending time in nature, keeping a gratitude list, journaling, being in relationship with others (my close friends have been lifesavers), and learning to use my voice and my lived experience to advocate for myself, my child, my family, and others. Becoming a Family Peer Supporter has been a big part of my recovery/wellness journey.

Acceptance has also been important to my recovery/wellness. Accepting myself, accepting my child, accepting my child’s behavioral health challenges and diagnoses, accepting my reality, and accepting what I cannot change which is everything and everyone besides myself and my actions. I have had to go through the grieving process with lost dreams and hopes for myself and my child. And I continue to go through the grieving process whenever there is change or a new stage of treatment or new loss. Overall, hope has been the most important. Hope that recovery and wellness are possible; hope for new dreams; hope that we will get through whatever season we are in; hope shared by others who are further in their recovery/wellness journey. We share hope whenever we share our recovery (or resiliency) story with others.

So, what do the words “recovery” and “wellness” mean to families and parents/caregivers raising children with behavioral health challenges and special healthcare needs?

• “A process of change through which individuals improve their health and wellness, live a self-directed life, and strive to reach their full potential.” (SAMSHA)
• “The active pursuit of activities, choices and lifestyles that lead to a state of holistic health.” (Global Wellness Institute)
• “Not as the absence of disease, illness, and stress, but as the presence of a positive purpose in life, satisfying work and play, joyful relationships, a healthy body and living environment.” (SAMHSA)

To hear other family members share their own family recovery story and how they learned to improve their health and wellness, live a self-directed life, and strive to reach their full potential as a family, register for a Special Recovery Month Family Event:  "Nothing About Us Without Us: Families Supporting Recovery." This event will be held virtually Monday, September 16, 2024, at 11:00 am MST and hosted by SAMSHA and the National Federation of Families. Register at https://www.zoomgov.com/meeting/register/vJItf-irqTwiG8Bn85d59NIptD0G61q1ZSk#/registration.

By Beth Ayers, Family Support Lead

May 28, 2024

My child was never officially diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. Partly due to their age (under 21) and partly because insurance companies didn’t like that diagnosis. I was told there was a lot of stigma around Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) and no treatment for it. Only the symptoms such as anxiety, depression, or impulsivity could be treated with medication. Dialectical Behavior Therapy was effective but not a “guaranteed fix” which is what insurances like to cover. Some doctors who saw BPD on a patient’s chart automatically assumed there was no hope for that patient. I appreciated the protection the doctors and therapists were trying to give our child, the chance to have hope and unbiased treatment. But I hated playing the insurance game and hiding because of stigma. My thought was, “If they have BPD, list it as a diagnosis.” If our child had a rare form of cancer, doctors wouldn’t think twice about putting it in their chart. Stigma does not get changed by hiding from it. It gets changed by being open and honest and authentic.

While our child was in a residential treatment program, we took a NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness) class, Family to Family. I remember reading the symptoms and characteristics of BPD. Every single one fit. Learning about BPD helped me to have hope (the opposite of the medical world.) It helped me make sense of why our child was constantly having new symptoms and problems. Throughout their teen years, they expressed struggling with Trichotillomania (hair pulling disorder), eating disorders, depression, anxiety, panic attacks, suicidal ideation, self-harm, insomnia, alcohol and drug addiction, and so on. What I saw as their parent was problems with impulsivity, defiance, oppositional behavior, black and white thinking, manipulation, having to have it their way, lying, trouble keeping friends and maintaining relationships, holding grudges, not following the rules, blaming others, arguing, being defensive, and extreme emotions. Learning about BPD helped me to not blame myself or my parenting, have more understanding and compassion for what they were going through, recognize the difficulty and confusion of living with BPD, learn how to not escalate things, look for targeted therapies, and not feel so alone by relating to other parents’ experiences raising a child with BPD.

I brought a lot of misconceptions I had learned about parenting and life in general into my adult life and role as parent. I thought that if I did everything right, things would turn out right. I thought I could parent in a “right” way that would keep my child from experiencing pain. I also thought that if I was a “good” parent, my child would not misbehave. I believed that one wrong move could change the course of their life forever and ruin everything. I questioned if I was doing the right things and making the right decisions. I thought I could fix things and control outcomes. By always trying to fix situations and people, I inadvertently gave my child the message that they couldn’t handle hard things. I struggled setting firm boundaries when often that led to extreme emotions and behaviors. I fought the urge not to rock the boat when things were going smoothly. The phrase “walking on eggshells” is often used to describe living with or parenting someone with BPD. It wasn’t until our child was in treatment that I realized how fearful I was and how the effects of mental illness impacted my life.

I listened to a webinar recently titled Embracing Your Own Path and Recovery While Supporting Family Members in Theirs. It touched on the idea that everyone in the family or household is part of the Family’s Mental Health Story, with each person responsible for their own recovery (or wellness) journey. While I thought the fact that I couldn’t change anyone else was defeating, I learned I CAN change myself, empowering me to begin working on me. My family found ourselves focusing all our energy and attention solely on the family member struggling the most. But each member of the family plays a role. My health, mental and physical, is just as important as my child’s. I need to practice healthy coping skills and self-care also. I can impact what is going on in my home by looking at what I’m contributing and what I can change (hint-only myself). I can be aware of how I show up for my child and my family. And if I don’t like what I see, I can work on and take care of myself so I can show up as my best self. I can offer myself and others grace when we struggle. I can acknowledge and accept that life is messy. Probably the best tool I have learned is forgiveness for myself and others, believing that when we know better, we do better.

by Nikki Russell, Recovery Coach

November 21, 2023

Any story worth its weight on paper is a hero's journey, where a person ventures toward empowerment—the gumption to take a leap of faith into the unknown to discover themselves. Entering recovery is a yes to the call of becoming real; the story of Nikki becomes real; conquering fears takes courage and unlocks gratitude. The profound transformation from something unreal to something tangible is an innate drive within us to become whole and authentic. Love attaches to many things that provide instant gratification, preventing us from letting the flood of emotions wash over us. Grace is the root word of gratitude; an intellectual approach to spirituality produces positive change, yet heartfelt choices align with purpose and develop gratitude.

Grace has religious connotations and valid beliefs for those who resonate with a heavenly father. Yet, for others who pursue a grittier view of spirituality, I offer a different perspective. Grace is the sudden spark from an elevated perspective that inspires change. A gentle yet dignified openness to what is real. The willingness to participate in the mystery of life through trust versus comprehension. Grace is the internal impetus toward change, and gratitude is the emotion felt when the ordinary becomes enough. The value gratitude holds in my life is evident in everything I do to cultivate it. I cannot control grace, but I can offer my ability to move toward behaviors that show appreciation. Examples include setting daily intentions for mind, body, and spirit. Tithing to organizations that inspire positive change, simple acts of kindness, and mindfulness activities that support thankfulness for this moment. Understanding that everything in life is here to help me, I can acknowledge my viewpoint of things as good and imperfect as things that support my healing journey. I leave the door open for grace to enter with my attitude and actions.

When I began recovery, I intended to quit drinking; my goal wasn't what my life has become. Spirituality was not on my radar; I spent many years spiritualizing addiction, substituting one addiction for a more acceptable one. I jumped from a bottle of Gin into a concept of spiritualness, anything to take the pain away. The behavior had improved, and I was better equipped to manage my life, but the underlying problem remained. Self-medicating trauma was something yet to be learned. As I healed past hurts, meditation became a habit that transformed my life. This is how grace works; the energy I used to numb pain transformed into a higher purpose that gives life meaning. I am amazed at the mystery of grace and the feeling of gratitude, for what was once a debt to society with rebellious behavior rooted in shame has become a process of transforming lives.

Allowing grace to propel life into gratitude masquerading as ego-centric pursuits, my experience shows me it is possible to become something I cannot imagine or understand. Dedication to recovery expands Gratitude is a daily commitment to learning, a radical acceptance of reality, a willingness to live an authentic dash, and a belief in the mystery of life. Spiritual practices serve a gritty grace, the kind that finds you in the depths of darkness as the thing that raises you up. Grace is given, and recovery pulls grace forward as if to beckon us further on the journey, offering gratitude as the reward for a moment spent well. Respect for the journey that burned my life to the ground and the process of rising from the ashes reminds me that I am exactly where I am supposed to be. Hindsight has the benefit of lessons learned that become the foundation for wisdom that reminds me there is always opportunity for growth. Grace shows up to help me along the way, allowing my past self to show me the way forward. What made me sick cannot heal me, yet it reminds me of the places I can go when I am not devoted to recovery. I do not know what the future holds, but gratitude gives me emotional hits that I am on the right path.

The story of The Velveteen Rabbit offers a spiritual perspective about becoming real. The skin horse responds to the rabbit's question of becoming real: "Real isn't how you were made; it's a thing that happens to you." He says, "It doesn't happen all at once; you become. It can take a long time." The recovery journey begins with what some would call tragedy, but I have learned recovery is a gift of grace. Gritty, yes, but every step has helped me learn how to love, to become real, and to allow grace the opportunity to transform my life in all the creative ways it shows up. Becoming real does not suggest that my life before recovery was not valid; it was; it showed me my strength and offered up gratitude as a vital emotion to support me on my hero's journey.

September 12, 2023

Recovery, whether from physical ailments, mental health challenges, addiction, or any form of adversity, is a journey that requires unwavering commitment and determination. It is a process that demands not only medical interventions but also a profound dedication to self-improvement and healing. The essence of commitment to recovery lies in the willingness to face challenges head-on, persevere through setbacks, and cultivate resilience that leads to a renewed sense of well-being.

At the heart is the recognition that the path to healing is rarely linear. Setbacks, relapses, and moments of doubt are almost inevitable. However, it is the commitment to the larger goal of recovery that sustains individuals through these trials. This commitment involves a conscious decision to prioritize one's well-being, even when faced with difficulties. It is a dedication to seeking help, whether from medical professionals, therapists, support groups, or loved ones, and utilizing the resources available for the betterment of one's health.

Commitment to recovery is an embodiment of resilience. It's the ability to bounce back from setbacks with newfound strength and determination. Resilience is cultivated through the act of persisting despite challenges, adapting to changing circumstances, and learning from both successes and failures. This resilience not only aids in the process of recovery but also equips individuals with valuable life skills that extend beyond their healing journey.

Furthermore, this commitment is a testament to the power of the human spirit. It showcases our capacity to evolve, transform, and rise above even the most daunting circumstances. It often necessitates making difficult choices and altering habits that might have contributed to the challenge at hand. It requires a willingness to confront past traumas, address underlying issues, and adopt healthier coping mechanisms.

Committing to recovery is a profound and transformative journey that requires dedication, resilience, and an unyielding spirit. It's an acknowledgement that healing is not passive; rather, it's an active pursuit that demands consistent effort and a steadfast commitment to personal growth. Whether recovering from physical ailments, mental health struggles, addiction, or any form of adversity, the commitment to recovery is a testament to the strength of the human will and the capacity to triumph over adversity. Through this commitment, individuals can emerge from their challenges with a renewed sense of purpose and a deeper understanding of their own strength.