Blog /Empowerment

Can you imagine someone you love or even yourself being left in physical restraints for four weeks?

Well, a man in Japan experienced this horrific violation. He shared it with Mary Ellen Copeland the last time she visited the country. Sadly, human rights violations like this are still happening and are not rare. This is exactly why Mary Ellen Copeland, PhD, author of the Wellness Recovery Action Plan; Edward Anthes, human rights advocate; and Matthew Federici, Executive Director of the Copeland Center facilitated the institute on Thursday, Oct.11 at the 2012 Alternatives Conference. Their goal was to bring a group of people together to discuss and develop action plans to address this and many other horrific human rights violations in the mental health system around the world.

"It's disgusting and has been going on for generations," expressed Mary Ellen to a group of over 50 people. After reading more about the issues in Robert Whitaker’s book Mad in America, she states it was so bad and too upsetting that she couldn't sleep. "To read about the horrible things that have happened to people over time…We still have horrific human rights violations in the mental health system and need to do something about it."

The first half of the institute focused on hearing from the participants about their experiences. Some of what was shared included:

• People were involuntarily sent to psychiatric hospitals and were being further abused by getting stripped searched in the hospital;
• Like the man from Japan, children and adults were being forced into seclusion and restraints, including chemical restraints;
• People still had encounters with providers that unfortunately didn’t believe recovery was possible for everyone;
• Services are still neglecting physical health side effects from antipsychotic medications. This includes ignoring the data that people who are treated for psychiatric conditions are dying 25 years earlier than the average population.

After hearing these and many more stories, we took a break. Following our break Mary Ellen, Ed and Matthew shared what Pennsylvania has done to end these human rights violations.

In the state of Pennsylvania, all mental health state hospital staff, psychiatric emergency response teams and peer specialists were trained for two weeks. The peer trainings (which were led by people with lived experience of mental health challenges) focused on emphasizing that effective treatment is a recovery-supported approach. With this new initiative, the state went further and became transparent about seclusion and restraints data from the psychiatric hospitals. Their policies targeted the elimination of seclusion and restraints, and emphasized that the use of them would be seen as treatment failure. Hospital environments became safer for individuals receiving services and their support staff. More Peer Specialist positions were created when five state hospitals were closed down. As a result of this, increases in employment and housing and major reductions in re-hospitalization occurred.

With the success of Pennsylvania, we moved our discussion to action plans of how to bring positive change to the mental health system throughout the country and world.

One of the action items that received a lot of attention was the development of an activism curriculum to promote people coming together to support one another in speaking up and engaging in system change.  "Un-muting our mute button" as David Oaks, Executive Director of MindFreedom International stated. David and Mary Ellen have been discussing the need to develop a curriculum focused on mutual support groups to create active community members who speak out when human rights violations occur.

Other action items included more people downloading the free PEERS Media Watch app for iPhones. It's a tool for anyone, including activists, who want to stop the negative portrayals of people with mental health challenges in the media. Or thank the media when they do positive portrayals. Activists can also get involved with occupy the APA (American Psychiatric Association).

After the institute, Mary Fala from Norristown, PA shared "I felt this institute was productive, especially the idea of creating an activist curriculum for support groups throughout the country. That will help to normalize this competency of people with mental heath issues to help others." She added, "Overall, I felt very heard."

Terry Bryne from MHASF commented,  "The issue is so huge and it's absolutely important we have commitments to do something…There were wonderful ideas and great energy."

As a WRAP Facilitator, I appreciated how Mary Ellen, Ed and Matthew upheld the values and ethics of WRAP, honored each person, and created space for all of us to share and learn from each other. I, along with the majority of Institute attendees, committed to continue the discussion and take action.

If you are interested in participating in this subject please visit: www.mindfreedom.com, www.wrapandrecoverybooks.com, www.copelandcenter.com or email Mary Ellen Copeland at info@mentalhealthrecovery.com.

Mary Ellen Copeland (far right) delivers her remarks during her Alternatives 2012 instutite.

I’m sure you’ve never heard the words, “Today was rough! I sure could go for some lettuce! ” That may be in part because traditionally comfort foods are high in sugar and fat. When I’m stressed out or even celebratory, I immediately gravitate toward Ben & Jerry’s Half Baked Ice cream. In a quest to end my emotional eating, I attended a presentation by hypnotherapists Patricia Terriere and Marliese Franklin, entitled; Would You Like Fries with that Emotion? Coping Strategies for Stress and Emotional Eating without Side Effect.

According to Terriere, emotional eating is eating not because we are hungry, but because we are having an emotion that we are trying to heal. Of course there are negative consequences to emotional eating such as weight gain, but a larger consequence may be that eating is not addressing the actual issue at hand.

Terriere and Franklin invited the audience to really consider and be aware of when, why and what was happening in correlation with food. Emotional triggers such as being lonely, stressed out, worried, or angry can come into play when people emotionally eat.

Emotional eating was broken down into 5 different categories.

Social: Are we eating just because other people are eating? Or are we a new comer at an event and eating because we feel uncomfortable? Did our relative say, “Honey, you are fading away! Please take another slice of cake!”

Emotional: Was there a bad break up? Are things stressful at work? Did you receive an upsetting phone call, or are you just lonely?

Situational: Lights, camera, action and… popcorn? Are we conditioned to eat popcorn because we are watching a movie? Are we used to eating and watching television?

Thoughts: Are negative thoughts, like feeling unworthy, playing a role in our emotional eating? “I’m a horrible person because I had one piece of pie and it doesn’t matter if I have another one.”

Physiological: Did you skip meals all day and now your body is panicked and on the verge of shutting down? According to Terriere, a heightened sense of stress can activate the cortisol levels in one’s body and in some cases leading to an increase in abdominal fat.

After analyzing the why of emotional eating, Franklin invited the audience to participate in a mindful eating exercise. Participants were handed a raisin and a
sunflower seed. With guidance from Franklin, each audience member examined the sunflower seed including smelling, touching, and considering where
the sunflower came from. Slowly and thoughtfully audience members finally ate the seed.

As a natural born skeptic, I felt that spending so much time looking at your food is impossible. I have meetings, classes, and other time sensitive factors in my life. However, afterwards I thought about adjusting the practice to fit my life, which means eating one thing at a time instead of mindlessly devouring an entire bag of chips. I can really take the time to savor. Why am I rushing so much anyways? Maybe if I’m aware of why I’m eating, I can enjoy my food or not eat if I’m not actually hungry. The quest to stop emotionally eating will continue, but with the help of this presentation I have some new coping strategies to help me in my journey.

Dear Sally, Joseph, Gayle, Celia, and all of the other trailblazers,

I have never accepted that another person singlehandedly knows what is best for me.

Maybe it’s because I'm self-aware — or incredibly stubborn — but I honestly can't recall a single time in my life where I did something simply because of social pressures or someone in a position of authority told me to do so.

Don't get me wrong. I'm hardly a rebel and pretty much every friend I've had since kindergarten will tell you I was a goody two-shoes who followed all the rules. (Regrettably I can't testify for the preschool years.) But I think even back then I did so because I honestly believed in the rules. I believed in fairness, order, standards, and accountability. I believed that rules were a sort of insurance that guaranteed all would be right with the world. Life would be harmonious. Everyone would get along. I would be loved.

But I also knew that if I didn't believe in the rules, there was no way I would blindly follow them just because. I would question, analyze, and respectfully discuss differences. And if I thought a rule was unfair, unjust, abusive, or stifling, I would cause a respectful — albeit spirited — ruckus.

This morning I listened to the four of you recall your triumphs and tribulations over the last few decades. Not only did you speak about the past, but you also gave us a hint as to what the movement may produce over the next several years.

As I heard you all reflect on where you and the movement started and where both are now, I honestly couldn't comprehend it.

I couldn't relate on a visceral level. Intellectually, I knew how amazing you were and what you had achieved in a relatively short time. But I didn't feel any overwhelming fire. I didn't want to grab my pom poms and shout. And I felt terrible because of it.

As you displayed historical pictures and shared life stories, I was overcome with profound respect, but little emotion. I saw members of the older generation moved to tears by stories of old-school hospitalization practices and engage in triumphant cheers when a movement victory was recalled.

As you recounted three decades of struggle, strife, and victory, I couldn't help but feel like a student in a history class — interested and incredibly respectful but having a hard time feeling what it was like to live under those conditions at that time.

What was wrong with me?!?!

As this self-doubt irritatingly ate at me over the course of the day, I continued to construct stories on the conference workshops I attended. Almost all of them involved some story of forced treatment, hospitalization, and gross human rights or civil rights violation of people with mental health issues of all shapes, sizes, and intensities. I kept telling myself how amazing it is that anyone could survive such terrible things and come out the other side in a better place, sometimes even with total forgiveness. I also laughed a little because I could never picture myself complying for the sole reason that someone told me to.

And then, BAM! It hit me.

The civil rights movement was one of the defining moments of my parents' generation. (You can pick your cause.) My dad still tells me about the tumultuous times of the 60s and 70s and the expectation of change held by so many people. As he recalls tales of his younger years, I often close my eyes and envision what that must have been like. How exciting it must be to work towards a common goal and see your efforts overturn abusive and morally wrong yet accepted practices that existed not long before.

The first Alternatives conference took place in 1985. At that time, I was precisely one year old.

So why didn't I get as emotional as my parents' generation when the movement was discussed?

Because I lucked out. I am bearing the fruits.

I am the next generation. I don't doubt for one minute that I don't control my life.

I don't accept that I can't disagree with my doctor.

I don't assume that the first doctor with whom I speak will always be my doctor.

I don't assume that I will always need a doctor. But I do trust my gut and intellect to know what is right for my body. And then I follow them.

If a medication doesn't work for me, I say so. I don't keep using it just because. I go back, tell it like it is, and won't leave without a solution.

If my doctor is being an ass, I tell them. If my doctor is awesome, I tell them.

If my doctor is beyond saving, I get a new one.

I do my homework. I weigh my options, I get feedback, and I think. Then I make my own decision.

I live my life and deal with my business as I need to. But dealing with my business is not my life.

Yes, I might be this way because of personality. But without your trailblazing efforts (and those of other truly remarkable individuals), I wouldn't be able to possess this internalized assumption that duh, of COURSE I have a voice. I don't know any other way. If I were around 35 years ago, I would have no right to be as self-assured as I am. You all sacrificed so I didn't have to. Disempowerment is not an option. 

I am well aware that not all evils of the mental health world are solved. I know abuses still exist and that there are plenty in power who don't get it. There are probably even some who straight up don't care. But the profound shift in behavioral health culture at the community, state, and federal levels is nothing short of amazing.

Do we still have a ways to go? Of course. In fact, some challenges are really daunting. But you all took on the daunting ones, and look what came from them.

In the end, you have so graciously given me a sense of security, peace of mind, and unwavering belief in myself. And for that there are simply not enough words of thanks in the world.
 

Dear Sally, Joseph, Gayle, Celia, and all of the other trailblazers,

I have never accepted that another person singlehandedly knows what is best for me.

Maybe it’s because I'm self-aware — or incredibly stubborn — but I honestly can't recall a single time in my life where I did something simply because of social pressures or someone in a position of authority told me to do so.

Don't get me wrong. I'm hardly a rebel and pretty much every friend I've had since kindergarten will tell you I was a goody two-shoes who followed all the rules. (Regrettably I can't testify for the preschool years.) But I think even back then I did so because I honestly believed in the rules. I believed in fairness, order, standards, and accountability. I believed that rules were a sort of insurance that guaranteed all would be right with the world. Life would be harmonious. Everyone would get along. I would be loved.

But I also knew that if I didn't believe in the rules, there was no way I would blindly follow them just because. I would question, analyze, and respectfully discuss differences. And if I thought a rule was unfair, unjust, abusive, or stifling, I would cause a respectful — albeit spirited — ruckus.

This morning I listened to the four of you recall your triumphs and tribulations over the last few decades. Not only did you speak about the past, but you also gave us a hint as to what the movement may produce over the next several years.

As I heard you all reflect on where you and the movement started and where both are now, I honestly couldn't comprehend it.

I couldn't relate on a visceral level. Intellectually, I knew how amazing you were and what you had achieved in a relatively short time. But I didn't feel any overwhelming fire. I didn't want to grab my pom poms and shout. And I felt terrible because of it.

As you displayed historical pictures and shared life stories, I was overcome with profound respect, but little emotion. I saw members of the older generation moved to tears by stories of old-school hospitalization practices and engage in triumphant cheers when a movement victory was recalled.

As you recounted three decades of struggle, strife, and victory, I couldn't help but feel like a student in a history class — interested and incredibly respectful but having a hard time feeling what it was like to live under those conditions at that time.

What was wrong with me?!?!

As this self-doubt irritatingly ate at me over the course of the day, I continued to construct stories on the conference workshops I attended. Almost all of them involved some story of forced treatment, hospitalization, and gross human rights or civil rights violation of people with mental health issues of all shapes, sizes, and intensities. I kept telling myself how amazing it is that anyone could survive such terrible things and come out the other side in a better place, sometimes even with total forgiveness. I also laughed a little because I could never picture myself complying for the sole reason that someone told me to.

And then, BAM! It hit me.

The civil rights movement was one of the defining moments of my parents' generation. (You can pick your cause.) My dad still tells me about the tumultuous times of the 60s and 70s and the expectation of change held by so many people. As he recalls tales of his younger years, I often close my eyes and envision what that must have been like. How exciting it must be to work towards a common goal and see your efforts overturn abusive and morally wrong yet accepted practices that existed not long before.

The first Alternatives conference took place in 1985. At that time, I was precisely one year old.

So why didn't I get as emotional as my parents' generation when the movement was discussed?

Because I lucked out. I am bearing the fruits.

I am the next generation. I don't doubt for one minute that I don't control my life.

I don't accept that I can't disagree with my doctor.

I don't assume that the first doctor with whom I speak will always be my doctor.

I don't assume that I will always need a doctor. But I do trust my gut and intellect to know what is right for my body. And then I follow them.

If a medication doesn't work for me, I say so. I don't keep using it just because. I go back, tell it like it is, and won't leave without a solution.

If my doctor is being an ass, I tell them. If my doctor is awesome, I tell them.

If my doctor is beyond saving, I get a new one.

I do my homework. I weigh my options, I get feedback, and I think. Then I make my own decision.

I live my life and deal with my business as I need to. But dealing with my business is not my life.

Yes, I might be this way because of personality. But without your trailblazing efforts (and those of other truly remarkable individuals), I wouldn't be able to possess this internalized assumption that duh, of COURSE I have a voice. I don't know any other way. If I were around 35 years ago, I would have no right to be as self-assured as I am. You all sacrificed so I didn't have to. Disempowerment is not an option. 

I am well aware that not all evils of the mental health world are solved. I know abuses still exist and that there are plenty in power who don't get it. There are probably even some who straight up don't care. But the profound shift in behavioral health culture at the community, state, and federal levels is nothing short of amazing.

Do we still have a ways to go? Of course. In fact, some challenges are really daunting. But you all took on the daunting ones, and look what came from them.

In the end, you have so graciously given me a sense of security, peace of mind, and unwavering belief in myself. And for that there are simply not enough words of thanks in the world.
 

I am so not a morning person. And it took every drop of energy in my body to rise from my warm bed and make the 7am Day of Prayer. However, I was in for a lovely surprise. The Day of Prayer takes place in communities across the country for National Mental Health Awareness Week. As stated on the event's flier, at the Day of Prayer we "send prayers and inspirational messages to restore mental wellness in our communities."

When I arrived to the plaza in Downtown Oakland, there was a peaceful energy blanketing the streets. Our video specialist was quietly setting up for his shoot. I watched participants decorating a statue with bright-colored paper cranes. And the sun was just starting to peak over Lake Merritt. Then a blessing arrived in the form of a Noah's Bagels deliveryman. The bagels and coffee seemed to taste even better that morning.

We heard from people of various spiritual practices: Islam, Christianity, Sikhism, non-religious faiths and others. All explained how spirituality helps them get through their mental health challenges. While snapping pictures I couldn't help but notice all of the people from various faiths praying together. It was beautiful. So many people throughout the history of humankind have been persecuted for their religious beliefs. Yet we all came together with our Qurans, crosses, chants, beads and sent up our prayers for one common cause: mental health. We prayed for peace. We prayed for the ones living and suffering. We prayed for the ones we lost, most recently Black Men Speak Founders Dewitt Buckingham and Darnell Levingston. And we prayed for ourselves. If only the entire world was just like this moment, this peaceful space. There would be less trauma, less wars. Peace does wonders for wellness. 

I was so moved by the unity and religious acceptance that when the day's organizer, Minister Monique Tarver, opened the floor for us to make comments I went to speak. I saw a look of surprise on Minister Tarver's face. She told me later she was pleasantly surprised to see me come up because I usually work behind the camera at events. Honestly, I was surprised I went up to speak. I didn't have much to say to the crowd. Okay, of course I pitched our podcast (my colleagues tease me because I do that anytime I'm in in front of a crowd). Honestly, I just wanted to express how I valued the beautiful moment and that spirituality has benefited my mental wellness. 

Mindfulness meditation slows down my racing mind when I feel anxiety kicking into gear. Prayer eases my worries and uplifts me when I get a case of the blues. Gospel music takes me higher and fuels me through tough times. And it manifests the joy in my heart when I'm feeling grateful. Then there's nature. Gloriously tall trees, the smell of fresh leaves, bright flowers, quiet streams — all ground me. Being around nature reminds me that there's something greater than myself, my problems and my joys. It truly puts me in a peaceful state of awe.

The Day of Prayer was a nice start to the rest of the day. Our Empowerment Coordinator Yaffa Alter writes beautiful prayers that I think just about one from any faith can appreciate. She read the event's invocation. Her closing verse sums up what I took away from the day:

Let us unite peacefully with compassion on the whole human family; take away the controversial teachings of arrogance, divisions and hatreds. Let us not only stay alive but be alive bringing the body, mind, and heart together, having wisdom to govern among the conflicting interests and issues of our times and live life with justice, peace and harmony. ASE!  

By Mary Montgomery

Over the years I've taken dance classes in college and through community organizations. Looking back, the one thing that I noticed about myself was that I seem to always be in deep thought.

Sometime around 1968 I remember feeling like I wanted to feel free to move around without actually knowing or understanding why I had the desire to express myself through movement. It was like trying to be something or someone that I wasn't. I would stare at myself in the mirror and it seemed as though my face would change.

When I was a little girl around the age of five, I would sit on the steps and act out the role of playing a piano. Finally, I convinced myself that I could play the piano. I asked to be in a program and I did play the piano. My creative imagination was always with me and it was always a positive experience.

Movement and dance therapy is something that has come natural for me because a lot of choices that I've made in life always seem to bring about a new experience. By the time I was seven years old, my mom sent me to piano school and I was a lot more talented in playing the piano before I actually started to read music. Learning to read music took away my natural ability to be creative and play music by ear.

I dreamed about being a majorette and marching before a marching band. Once I actually became a majorette, I was not allowed to be creative but instead do and be like everyone else. I hit the jackpot once I became a student in the Physical Education and Dance Department of City College Of San Francisco. I was able to create through, what I call, photo art forms. By January 1971 I enrolled in George Long's Gung Fu School and I felt that it was time for me to move forward within the community that I lived. After three years of training at George Long's Gung Fu School, I received a teaching authorization for beginning and intermediate levels of gung fu. No one would help me or allow me to rent space for instruction. Out of frustration I began to train my own two daughters so that I would be able to show others that I was actually capable of developing something that no one else had.

By the time my third daughter was born I suffered a mental breakdown from not going to sleep and I need to be hospitalized. I found that my creative imagination was still with me throughout my fears of being in a psychiatric ward with other mental health clients. I began to gracefully move around and flow and slowly wave my arms in a bird like art form. There were clients telling me how beautiful I looked and smile.

While there I learned the meaning of carry over value. This has to do with things that you learn shared with others. Lessons from one's experience may be used for a job, giving back to someone or the community, or any way to benefit one's life. Movement and Dance Therapy are my carry over values. It is something I share with others. And as you can see, it has been a special part of my life for a long time.

During this year's CASRA conference I attended "The Healing Power of Stories: the Basics of Storytelling" workshop.  I really hoped that workshop leader Bobbi Fischer would reveal a fresh approach that I might be able to share with our PEERS’ speakers’ bureau, Lift Every Voice & Speak!, and further empower our presenters.

At the beginning of this workshop, Bobbi laid out a framework in which a storyteller defines the parameters of the story he or she intends to tell. The idea is to identify and capture all key facts and details in writing first. That way, once the storyteller begins speaking, he or she is freed up to connect with listeners heart to heart. The key details include who the intended audience is and what specific impact the speaker wishes to deliver, and ordinary specifics about their story such as who, what, where and when.

Initially, I listened with both hope and doubt as Bobbi led us through a two- page worksheet. Still dubious as Bobbi shared an emotionally compelling personal story, I was moved to a state of awe and excitement during the second half of the workshop as, one by one, participants from the audience stepped up to use their notes on their worksheets and opened up to speak. The workshop participants shared powerful stories of recovery, hurt and healing, dreams, and visions being fulfilled. Each one spoke with clarity and conviction, each one speaking directly from the heart.

What I really loved about this approach is that it is not just for members of our speakers' bureau. Every one of us is a storyteller for the cause of creating welcoming communities free from stigma and discrimination. Every time we go to a meeting, ride in an elevator or stand in a line--we have the opportunity to share our personal two- minute “elevator story.” Let’s all plan ahead to fully use the power of direct contact!

If you want to tell your story, think about your intention ahead of time. Think about the pertinent facts. If you’d like a copy of Bobbi’s worksheet, please e-mail me at skuehn@peersnet.org. Let’s prepare ourselves to speak truth for change. Once you’ve walked through the steps, then take a deep breath, open your heart and let your voice do the rest. We are a powerful force for wellbeing and inclusion. We are the change!
 

I walked into the main office at PEERS one chilly winter day not knowing what to expect. I was nervous and excited about beginning my first day of working for a consumer-run agency as the Project Coordinator. In my postion, I work on statewide projects that help eliminate stigma and discrimination. As I waited to get set up in my new office, I heard voices of laughter coming from down the hall, and noticed how people appeared to be happy as they came into work to start their day. I was quickly oriented to the workings of my new office and before I knew it, I was ready to begin my first day. I was quickly booked into multiple meetings from San Francisco to Sacramento to learn all about the various projects I would be working on and met many people I would be working with.

Over the next several days I found myself increasingly impressed by how PEERS manages to be a friendly, fun, and professionally- balanced work environment. I’m pleased to say that as I sit in my office writing this blog one month from the day I started, I really appreciate working at PEERS. I'm happy to be a part of an organization that has the capability of making a real difference in the lives of people with mental health issues throughout the state of California. 

Also, since coming to PEERS, I've experienced some mental health symptoms, which for a short time were affecting my ability to sleep. Throughout the experience I felt very much supported and understood, and I appreciated that. I have never worked in a consumer-run organization before and I didn’t know what to expect at first. PEERS has so far exceeded my expectations. I am grateful to be working with the PEERS team who has come to make me feel very welcome in my new job.