Pete Earley

(11-23-21) News Release From Peg’s Foundation. For immediate release.

On November 11, 2021, Peg’s Foundation recognized individuals and organizations bringing remarkable value to the community.

During the awards presentation in Rootstown, Ohio, Rick Kellar, Peg’s Foundation President, stated “Tonight’s recipients are not only our partners, but our family.” He emphasized that the work of these remarkable individuals and organizations is changing lives every day. “It is the power of partnerships advancing the foundation’s mission and vision and creating lasting impact!”

2021 Compass Award winner Pete Earley spent his career dedicated to helping people with serious mental illness and improving the systems that serve them. A former reporter for The Washington Post, he is best-known for his nonfiction book, CRAZY: A Father’s Search Through America’s Mental Health Madness, one of two finalists for the 2007 Pulitzer Prize, and winner of awards from the American Psychiatric Association, the National Alliance on Mental Illness, and Mental Health America. Earley said his work promotes, “fixing a system that can be fixed and realizing that it costs more to jail people or institutionalize them, and that it costs more to let people throw their lives away than it does to help them.”

As a journalist he holds people accountable, elevates our national dialogue to what “should be,” and lifts mental illness out of the shadows, creating a vision on how to best support individuals and families impacted by mental illness. Earley stated, “The biggest thing we have to do for someone who has mental illness, I believe, is give them hope.”

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(11-17-21) This is part two of Advocate Jerri Niebaum Clark’s story about her struggles to help her son, Calvin, and how his death led to her advocacy.

Becoming A Parent Advocate: Part Two

By Jerri Niebaum Clark

First published in Kansas Alumni Magazine. Used by permission.

I remember a time when happiness and health felt normal. I left Lawrence, Kansas, and my position as an assistant editor for Kansas Alumni in 1995, newly married and five months pregnant. My husband, Matthew Clark, settled into a career with Hewlett-Packard. I became mother to baby Calvin and Michelle, 10 years older than he. I taught yoga and children’s ballet, work that blended well with parenting. We loved our Pacific Northwest home in Vancouver, Washington, where through the years we surfed off the Oregon coast and skied down Mount Hood.

Calvin became a state-champion debater and earned a scholarship to Willamette University in Salem, Oregon. Midway through his freshman year, he called in a rambling, tearful rant about being abandoned by fellow debaters. The details did not make sense. We brought Calvin home. Well past midnight, on February 16, 2015, I realized my baby boy had lost his mind.

Calvin’s speech was alarmingly disorganized and frantic. He did not sleep and was convinced a bathroom in our house was possessed and should never be entered again. A family doctor prescribed lithium. Calvin was at first relieved to have a diagnosis of bipolar disorder, like his paternal grandfather. This explained some of his confusion, so he agreed to take the medication. He got a job at the local farmer’s market selling cookies. He bought a Cookie Monster T-shirt. We were rearranged, but we were a family and happy to be together. There was even a magical day of surfing that spring when we all successfully caught overhead rides.

We came up for air, but the dangerous waves we would try to ride were just setting up. Events in the years to come tossed me around enough to reorder my understanding about what it means to be a parent, a compassionate person and an activist.

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(11-16-21) Jerri Niebaum Clark embodies the famous Margaret Meade quote: “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.” 

My Son’s Journey: Part One

A Mom’s Journey Through Mental Illness, Suicide and Advocacy

By Jerri Niebaum Clark

First published in Kansas Alumni Magazine, University of Kansas.

I studied journalism with no idea that the most important story I would ever tell would be the tragedy of my own family.

My son, Calvin, was a happy baby, a solid student, a successful athlete. He grew into a clever, curious, compassionate person. He also developed a serious mental illness in his teen years that devolved into psychotic episodes. A mental health care system in disarray meant that instead of helpful care, our family met heartbreak.

In disbelief, I watched my son’s world tilt away from a bright future punctuated by academic accolades and toward incarcerations, suicide attempts and hospitalizations in locked wards that didn’t make him better. Along the way, the everyday bad news cycle got personal. I’m not at all surprised that homelessness and suicide rates are rapidly rising or that so many police encounters end tragically. These are preventable social ills, but our service systems are not built to prevent them.

Families like mine strive to keep loved ones from hitting rock bottom, discovering that there really is no bottom and that help doesn’t prevent but instead requires a radical free-fall. I watched my son delivered into society’s underbelly by design. He spent months homeless, met law enforcement again and again, and tried multiple times to die. These traumas are part of a tragic inventory of the requirements for public assistance when someone has a serious mental illness. Calvin was 23 when he died from suicide March 18, 2019.

As I try to reconcile what happened to my son and our family, I have been compelled to dust off my journalism skills to write and holler my way into public view.

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(10-25-21) This recent email made me ask two questions. Why wasn’t something done to help this young man before he was arrested? What can be done now to keep him from attacking his mother and further ruining his life? 

Dear Pete,

I find myself in a desperate situation.

My son is 28 with schizoaffective disorder. He did fairly well with his illness for many years while consistently on medication but spiraled downward in the last year and a half due to going off medication. He is currently in the Fairfax County Adult Detention Center for breaking a protective order against me.

After four attempts to have him hospitalized (two were successful but too brief), I finally had to get a protective order. Between late April and July he was trying to kill me. He kept trying to break into my house with knives and axes.

He was clearly suffering from voices or delusions telling him he had to do that. He no longer realizes that he is ill.

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(10-13-21) I’ve always been frustrated by the never ending argument about which is better: community care or longer term care in state hospitals before discharge. What we need are accessible services that are appropriate to each individual’s need, whether that be in a community setting or more intensive hospital care.  Here’s an email that I received this week.

Dear Pete,

Two days ago, we had our first ‘on campus’ outside visit with our son at the Mental Health Institute in Independence, one of two state hospitals that we have in Iowa. He was excited, because it meant that we could bring him food and eat with him outdoors.  It was a two hour timeframe, so he also wanted to take us on a walk to show us around.  The residents go for walks on a pretty regular basis when the weather is good.

I’m writing because I recently had a chat with a candidate running for state office, and she said something that indicated she thought our Mental Health Institutes are terrible places. (I imagine this came from a significant amount of messaging from our prior Governor, Terry Branstad, prior to closing two of these facilities in 2015, in which he talked about them being old, run-down and providing substandard care. In addition, for quite some time, there has been a lot of discussion about how everyone is much better served, “in the community.”  It is not surprising that this candidate had a poor opinion of the MHI’s.)

I spoke with her to inform her differently, and that our son is currently receiving the best treatment that he has received since he first became sick in 2008, in a state hospital.  (One of only 2 remaining state hospitals here in Iowa – where we only have 64 beds for adults and 32 for children, so our ranking by the Treatment Advocacy Center is 51^st, dead last in the country.)

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