Nine years ago, I was appointed conservator of estate and person for my son Ben. I remember the court hearing well. Ben was in the middle of his first hospitalization for schizophrenia, refusing medication, and wanted to be released. The only way to keep him in the hospital, if he did not agree to stay voluntarily (and that certainly wasn't happening), was to apply for conservatorship. The hospital would then be legally required to keep Ben there - at least until the court date.

Ever since my son's diagnosis of schizophrenia, we have had to work around his strong desire to live without his mental health medications. In the past, he has refused them, cheeked them, thrown them up after swallowing them. They've been hidden in his pockets, his closet, in the bottom of the garbage.  Things are better now, but mostly because we are on to his tricks. I'd like to think he is cooperating because of some insight--but the most probable reason is that he simply can't get away with not taking his psych meds anymore.

For Better of Worse? Yes, that's the vow. But when the symptoms of mental illness seem to change the personality - the very soul - of your husband or wife, how do you keep going? How do you hold the family together?

I recently had the privilege of addressing a group of mental health nursing students at Fairfield University in Connecticut. Their professor, Joyce Shea, had heard me speak with Mary Moller, PRN at the APNA (American Psychiatric Nurses Association) Annual 2011 Conference, and assigned Ben Behind His Voices as required reading for her mental health nursing students. To my great delight, Ms. Shea shared with me some of her students' reactions to the memoir, and invited me to speak with them about how mental health nurses can make a real difference in the family experience when mental illness results in hospitalization.

Every so often, I am reminded that my son Ben still has to work hard to stay focused on the world as we all know it: work, play, conversations, whatever we are watching on TV.  Without his medications, that feat is nearly impossible; with treatment, it's certainly easier. But not without effort. Not without strength.

Last night, I attended an amazing "Legislative Social" hosted by our local NAMI Fairfield (CT) affiliate.  What an evening of possibility, of hope. Thanks to the efforts of this strong NAMI chapter and its members, about a dozen state legislators and an audience of over 100  were there to hear about Supportive Housing, Young Adult Services, School-based Services, and Mental/Medical Community Health Services. There were presentations and stories from successful programs such as Bridge House (International Clubhouse Model, in Bridgeport CT),  Yale's Integrated Care Partners Project,  supported housing programs, YAS (young adult services) and a new initiative for School Based Health Centers in Connecticut.

Bette Midler's hit song of 1973, "(You Got to Have) Friends" includes the following lyrics: Standing at the end of the road, boys Waiting for my new friends to come I don't care if I'm hungry or bored I'm gonna get me some of them For so long, these words described the life of my son Ben, as he restarted his emotional life after multiple hospitalizations with a diagnosis of Schizophrenia.

Well, it looks as if SAMHSA has redefined the term: Recovery. ScienceDaily (Jan. 5, 2012) — A new working definition of recovery from mental disorders and substance use disorders is being announced by the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA). The new working definition of Recovery from Mental Disorders and Substance Use Disorders is as follows: A process of change through which individuals improve their health and wellness, live a self-directed life, and strive to reach their full potential. So, what do you think? Ben has been "in recovery" since late in 2003, after his medication regime was stabilized and deemed effective. We cross our fingers each and every day that the psychiatric medications continue to work, and that he continues to take them despite his feeling that he doesn't need to. And so it goes.

First of all: a very Happy New Year to you! May your 2012 be filled with possibility, community, love and peace. 2011 was an amazing year for our family. Inside our walls, it brought changes that were both discouraging (Ben's reduction in services, leading to a relapse that could have been avoided - down the chute in Chutes and Ladders) wonderful (eventual return to medication, and restoration of baseline; back to good grades at school and a job!!), and challenging (family role upped to that of unofficial supervisors of Ben's official caseworkers - don't get me started).  As I often remind myself, it is what it is. This is what we must do right now to keep Ben healthy and productive. It is not, nor can it be, a forever choice to drive him to work or school every day, to personally make sure he takes his meds after eight years of having that taken care of in the group home where he is no longer allowed to live ("too functional" --- yeah) But for now, it is what we must do, and the results are more than worth it.

I just finished reading another mother's memoir about her son's schizophrenia called This Stranger, My Son. I'd not heard of this one until a  media producer I was working for (as voice talent) suggested I read it. Evidently she had read it in high school, years ago, and it has stayed with her ever since.