Mental Health in the Community

Worry.

No one’s exempt from worrying.

It’s an emotion we can all relate to.

But until very recently, I was not aware that the level of worrying I was experiencing was not the norm. 

For example, I am terrified of driving on freeways. While driving onto the ramp I will hold my breath, clench my jaw and grip the steering wheel. I imagined that somehow even though I am pressing on my brakes that I would accelerate instead and fly off the overpass. While this scenario is playing out in my mind, I would be looking at my rear-view mirror convinced that the person behind me must be extremely upset with me for going too slow and will likely rear end me. Needless to say, I avoided driving in freeways whenever possible. 

As I describe this to you, there are two reactions I expect. One is that you must think I’m crazy, the other is you feel seen because you have felt the same way.

For those of you that cannot relate, know that you are blessed. Because those like me who have experienced spirals of worrying over the simplest acts…know that it is debilitating…and that it can lead to self-loathing. 

I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve given up before I even tried. It’s not for a lack of interest or passion but for the overwhelming amount of worry.

Thankfully in 2023, I was diagnosed with cancer.

Now, I know you must be thinking I really am crazy for saying that. But allow me to explain.

Aside from surgery, chemotherapy was a necessary treatment. I avoided taking medication whenever possible. But with cancer, chemotherapy is necessary. Most importantly, for me chemotherapy was successful. I now have no evidence of disease! 

The success of chemotherapy opened my mind up to the realization that medication is necessary and effective. It’s ok to need medication.

I underwent a neuropsychological evaluation and was diagnosed with PTSD, depression and anxiety. With the help of my therapist, I am learning how my experiences in the past are affecting my ability to function in the present. Under the care of my psychiatrist, medication is helping manage my mental health so that my goals for the future can be attainable. 

While there is no magic pill that can obliterate worry, medication and counseling are available to help make worry manageable. 

I can confidently drive on freeways now. 

In fact, on weekdays I drive a minimum of 120 miles a day most of which are spent on US95.

As the primary caregiver to my 9 year old daughter who is diagnosed with 22q11.2 duplication, intellectual & developmental disability, language delay and autism spectrum disorder—it is very important that I am able to have peace of mind driving her to school, appointments, and activities. 

For me, that’s a great victory.

Hello, I am a mental health advocate with the National Alliance on Mental illness Nevada Chapter.

I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder at just three years old, and by the time I was ten, I had already attempted suicide. It was during these formative years that I began to grapple with profound emotional and psychological challenges that felt insurmountable at times. When I moved to Nevada at the age of fifteen, I found myself facing an entirely new set of difficulties. Leaving my aunt and cousins—who had been like sisters to me—shook my foundation and thrust me into a state of shock and crisis.

At that time, the mental health care system in Nevada was overwhelmed, with wait times to see a doctor stretching to an outrageous three months. As someone who was already on medication, I couldn’t afford to wait that long for refills on my mood stabilizers and antidepressants. The urgency of my situation made it even more frustrating when I encountered the first two psychiatrists; both recommended drastic measures that made me feel vulnerable and scared, including the possibility of hospitalization or long-term treatment in another state. Thankfully, my mom stepped in and wouldn’t allow them to take me away from home, but that created more tension and uncertainty.

Getting a therapist proved to be another challenge altogether, as there was frequent turnover among professionals in the area. This inconsistency made it hard for me to establish a trusting relationship with anyone, which limited my ability to open up about my feelings and experiences. Although I’ve been in therapy since I was three years old and had a very supportive mother by my side, the lack of a stable therapist made it increasingly difficult for me to thrive. 

In many ways, I had to rely on the coping skills I had developed over the years and the lessons I had learned through past experiences. Reflecting on my journey, I realize that, despite the odds, I was the one who pulled myself through those challenging times. The medication I was on didn’t seem to have the desired effect, and without the guidance of a reliable therapist, I often felt lost.

In Nevada, it’s evident that youth like me desperately need access to therapists and psychiatrists they can trust and build a rapport with, enabling them to open up about their struggles. There is a glaring need for more reliable mental health professionals who can offer the support that young people require. Additionally, it’s absolutely ridiculous that there are no long-term treatment centers or mental health hospitals available for children under ten years old. This lack of resources not only adds to the challenges we face but also highlights the urgent need for reform in mental health care for our youth.

Mental health has definitely been quite a journey for me. I have had highs and lows; however, the one thing that has kept me together is my discipline. When I was first taken from my mother in 2018, I cried and cried. I realized at 10 years old, nobody was going to save me. There was nobody that came to get me. This didn’t stop me though. I kept advocating for justice and to be placed where I was comfortable.

Regardless of me not deserving what people put me through, it doesn’t change the fact that I will be the one responsible to change myself. It is my responsibility to heal and want better for me. There are days where I don’t feel motivated to do my goals/agenda or when my mental health is taking a turn. This doesn’t stop me from being disciplined. My mental health has ranged from anxiety to high levels of depression to even PTSD. I will admit that I struggle, however this is why it’s so important that I have built a support system. I choose to get out of the house and volunteer, work, go to school, go to the mall, etc. I am a firm believer that having people in your corner will always benefit you as long as they’re a positive influence.

Time really helped my therapist and me. We have known each other for a few years. We have had the time to get to know each other on a deep level and build a connection that I wouldn’t have with anyone else. She was, and still is, very patient which made it easier to open up. I think therapy should be more accessible and confidential. In schools and at local gyms even. People go through so much pain and trauma. We lose lives every day from people battling mental health. Everyone deserves to feel heard, seen, and loved. We weren’t put in this world to feel alone. The professional support will allow these individuals to discover themselves and be well.

I don’t have much to say but on paper, things look fine. I’m waiting to start a job right now. I’m trying to get a decent apartment, and there are a few friends I talk to now and then. But lately, I’ve felt like I’m watching my life happen through a window I can’t open. I go through the motions, wake up, scroll, sleep, but nothing feels real. Or worth it. The worst part is – No one knows. I laugh at the right times. I answer texts. I try to stay positive. But behind all that is a big fog that doesn’t lift.

I didn’t grow up in a place where we talked about feelings. You just dealt with stuff. Got over it. So, for a while, I told myself I was just being dramatic. “You’re fine, man. Chill out. Don’t be soft.” That’s what the voice in my head would say. It sounded like every locker room, every awkward family dinner, every time someone said, “Man up.” Mental health sucks. I grew up around domestic violence, with the cops being called every week and lots of drug abuse. As my siblings and I were growing up, we thought this lifestyle was ok. So, I ended up on drugs, fighting, getting in trouble in school, and many other things all because of the environment I was living in. But as I got older, I realized this isn’t the right way in life. So, I am trying to make things better for myself. I’ve been trying to find a therapist that I can talk to on a week-to-week basis, and I’ve been trying to learn new skills every week. I enjoy going out for walks, as well. 

Things have been going great, and I try to take it one step at a time. I still have bad days and slowly, I’m learning that there’s strength in saying, “I’m not okay right now,” and that vulnerability doesn’t make me weak but it makes me human.

Moving from Massachusetts to Nevada was a good idea for my family for many reasons including better climate, better work/life balance, and the ability to live near a close family member employed on The Strip. What gave me great pause, however, was knowing that I was leaving the mental health support my family had relied on for over 10 years. Adoptive foster families like mine in Massachusetts are greatly supported by the state Medicaid program and Nevada not only does not provide reciprocal benefits to new state residents, but what’s worse, a lack of qualified therapists in Las Vegas resulted in us taking 4 years before we found appropriate support. 

As a privileged, well-educated person with means, I hesitate to complain about the lack of financial support for me and my family, however, my lived experience grants me the authority to state, without hesitation, that the lack of financial and other supports for families raising special-needs children, with either mental or physical health needs, is harming the next generation of Nevadans. Birth through age 26 is uniquely critical for setting the stage to grow into a healthy, productive, positive member of society. I view most adults who struggle with health today as victims of government programs that failed them. 

I have one other personal story I’d like to share as it involves mental health and has been weighing on me. I recently had an appointment with one of my doctors in Las Vegas. During electronic check in, I typed that I had one, and only one, insurance plan, for the visit. Without my permission, the doctor’s office did an eligibility check on an old policy they had on file for me. The policy showed as erroneously active, and because of this, the front desk would not check me into my visit until I consented to the office billing the old plan as a second insurance. Not only is this insurance fraud, but I, as the patient, have the right to say I do not want to use insurance for a visit. I have the right to pay cash if I wish. There are many reasons why a patient may choose to pay cash including hiding a visit from an abusive spouse, or wanting privacy for a particular health concern.

My experience resulted in waiting 90 minutes for care that day, waiting months for the practice manager to allow me to schedule a medically-necessary follow up visit, and enough stress to make my high blood pressure much worse. I filed complaints for this problem with the Attorney General’s Office, the Office or Insurance, and other state and federal offices and no one did anything. While true that I am ultimately fine, there are Nevadans every day dealing with unregulated and unmonitored doctor’s offices who exercise power they do not have, harming patients, with no recourse. We need a patient office required to take complaints like mine seriously with the power to bring significant sanctions for violations.

I believe mental health is so real and I figured that out to the max a year and a half ago when I suffered all types of issues regarding my health. I’ve been trying to find myself for a while now – who I truly am as a person, and what I want to do in my future. Mental health is big. It impacts your daily life, your decision making, planning, pretty much everything. If you’re not there mentally, it can really take a toll on your day-to-day routine.

It didn’t make it better, dealing with the stuff I was dealing with health-wise, it was just another challenge of this year and a half. It has been a long battle for me, and I’m still trying to overcome the challenges I face. I have been praying to God and I stay strong. Every day, I try my hardest to make a plan and figure out my future.

Life can burn you out, especially as I have been coming into to my early 20s, I am learning and figuring out life. It is hard dealing with the financial aspect of things. And even the easy things in daily life can be a challenge. I feel like there is always something telling me I need to improve and become smarter. I have figured out that you have to take all the steps yourself. Nobody will help you, especially as you get older and you’re on your own. Still, I always believe in myself.

A Parent’s Plea: The Urgent Need for Youth Mental Health Reform in Nevada

I’m writing to you as a parent who has spent the past several years struggling to navigate the inadequate and often disheartening youth mental health system here in Nevada. My daughter’s journey has been filled with frustration, confusion, and immense emotional and financial strain — all due to the severe lack of accessible, compassionate, and effective care for children in mental health crises.

Our story began in junior high, when my daughter first started showing signs of emotional distress. At the time, she was covered under her father’s insurance, Medicaid, which was her secondary. It took over a year of relentless searching to find a therapist who accepted Medicaid and had availability after school hours. The only option we found was across town, but we made it work. Sadly, the therapist was cold and disengaged. Even after switching to Telehealth, my daughter repeatedly expressed that she didn’t feel seen or cared for.

Two years ago, her condition worsened rapidly, prompting the need for urgent intervention. She was admitted to two different behavioral hospitals — one of them twice. At one facility, she was mistakenly identified as a boy and placed in a room with a male patient. Thankfully, she had the courage to speak up and let me know she felt unsafe. Worse yet, she was given another patient’s medication — six high-dose pills that were not prescribed to her. I was calling daily, sick with fear and guilt, knowing she was in a place that was supposed to be safe, but clearly wasn’t. When I requested an early discharge, I was told I would be going against medical advice. This in turn would prompt the police to be called if I tried to remove her. I spent those next several days terrified that my daughter could be traumatized further — or worse, harmed.

There was no meaningful therapeutic support in either facility. My daughter described the experience as ineffective.

Desperate for help, we also turned to a partial hospitalization program (PHPs) that she participated in twice. We hoped for a more structured and supportive setting. But the first time she went to the PHP it was yet another disappointment. She said it consisted mainly of filling out generic worksheets about mental health — with very little individualized attention or professional support. Throughout this period, we also worked with a private-pay therapist and a psychiatrist. The only resource offered through the judicial system was The Harbor. Every other referral or provider was something I had to find on my own through constant research, trial, and error. 

We also reached out to Mobile Crisis — twice — during active crises. Both times, I was told they could not come to our home while the crisis was in progress. Instead, they said they primarily provide resources and, in our case, since we had already accessed most of what they would provide referrals for, there was nothing more they could do. To be turned away while your child is in crisis is an experience no parent should have to endure. In moments where help is most needed, we were left completely alone.

When we attempted to get a neuropsychological evaluation to better understand my daughter’s mental health needs, we were met with another obstacle. The providers who conduct these evaluations either require out-of-pocket payment or accept insurance but have a waitlist of over two years. As a result, we were forced to pay out of pocket and wait four months for the evaluation. This unnecessary delay and added expense only compounded the stress and uncertainty we were already facing.

It wasn’t until we found a new psychiatrist, months later, that we learned we should have been calling an ambulance during manic episodes — not the police. Had we known this earlier, it could have prevented multiple arrests. But no one in the system told us. Not the hospitals. Not the therapists. Not the courts. This failure to properly inform families causes avoidable trauma and further criminalizes mental illness. Eventually, we found a therapist who accepted her insurance and, most importantly, cared. She has been a true Godsend. When she moved across town, my daughter continued with Telehealth, and for the first time in years, we felt hopeful. But finding this kind of care took over three years. 

When my daughter’s condition worsened to the point of needing residential treatment, we discovered that Nevada has only one RTC — one with repeated safety concerns, including children escaping. Once again, we had no choice but to look out of state. We found a facility that helped her, but it came at a steep financial cost due to out-of-network fees. Thankfully, after returning from that RTC, my daughter showed real, noticeable improvement. But that progress came with years of emotional hardship, countless roadblocks, and significant financial strain — all because the care she needed wasn’t available or accessible in our own state.

This should not be the norm.

Nevada’s youth mental health care system is underfunded, under-resourced, and broken. Families without financial means or time to fight for care are left with few or no options. We’re often forced to settle for subpar programs or take on crushing financial burdens just to keep our children safe.

Mental health care should not be a privilege. It should be a basic right — especially for our youth.

This is not just a personal plea. It’s a cry for change. Nevada’s children and families deserve better — and they need it now. I urge you to take real action to address these gaps, build infrastructure, and ensure no family has to go through what we did just to get their child the help they need.

I started to cut myself when I was 8 years old. When my parents would yell at me, I would go into the bathroom and pick a razor blade from under the sink and cut the tips of my fingers and cover them with band-aids so I could make a story of a “papercut” or other accidental incident. Since I can remember, words have cut deeper into me than anyone else in my family; one word could stop my whole will of life. I would go to my room and wish I were dead so my family would feel bad and see how bad they treated me. Which, now, as a teen, I realize is not a normal ideology.

When I was 11, I went into foster kinship with my grandmother and her husband. They would starve my brother and me, claiming we were fat, and tell us that we weren’t their grandkids anymore. They would only be our foster parents whenever they were mad and made us run on treadmills for hours on end. I started to cut my arms with scissors. When I went back home with my mom, it felt like my head was in a different space. 

When I was 14, I was admitted to a mental hospital, per my request, while mid-breakdown on a temporary hold in Las Vegas, where I was diagnosed with MDD, BPD, and anxiety disorder, which I guess can all just be called BPD. My parents called me every day and made sure I was okay, and showed up to visit me on every visit. On the day I was set to go home, I met with the psychiatrist who asked me simple check-up questions. When he asked if I felt okay to go home, I said yes. He then asked if I thought my parents wanted me home, and I said yes of course, and he insisted that they told him they didn’t want me home yet and I should stay longer. Now, of course, this caused me some major turmoil. They spent all their calls saying they couldn’t wait for me to come home and how much they missed and loved me so much, and just wanted me to be okay, now they don’t want me? I reluctantly packed my bag and was escorted to my parents, whom I lazily hugged. When I got in the car, they saw my long face and asked why I was so upset. I told them what the doctor had told me, and they were so shocked that my mom showed me all her phone logs, and they hadn’t even talked to my doctor since the day I got there. My mom called the hospital angrily, and they said he wasn’t there, and we haven’t heard anything since. 

I stayed at home doing online school for 2 years, barely going outside due to fear. I am due to start in-person school soon, taking college courses. I am on-track to graduate with my high school diploma and associate’s degree, and have made some more friends. My diagnosis has helped me a lot with understanding what’s “wrong” with me, and I know that it will just get better.

If I could change how Nevadans access mental health support, I would make it so that everyone is able to afford to receive therapy sessions for low-cost to no-cost. This would be for anybody in Nevada via telehealth or in-person. 

This is because my brother is homeless right now, and he does not receive any mental health support from the state. He did not receive any support from DCFS aftercare. They did not set him up with a therapist, a psychiatrist or anybody after he left foster care. All that he was set up with was a place to live.

I was mortified to find out that my brother, who lives on the streets, cannot afford to see a therapist online even with Medicaid. If you have Medicaid, you should receive full coverage. Some people who have Medicaid have to pay out of pocket to receive all the services. I hate this system in Nevada and believe that anybody in the state should receive any mental health care they need. It shouldn’t matter if you’re homeless or not.

I am a career law enforcement victim advocate. In this capacity, I have the opportunity to speak and work with individuals and families from all walks of life. Their demographics are wide-ranging and their victimizations (and the history leading up to those events) is as complex as their pain and their frustration to seek recovery services to deal with their trauma. Some of the most challenging cases I encounter are the ones involving juvenile offenders – often as young as 10 and 11, whose victims include their parents and siblings. The parents in these circumstances are more often than not physically assaulted. They are mentally exhausted. They are desperate. They have a duty to protect other children in the household and themselves while trying to navigate the slippery slope of seeking diagnostic and frequently long-term care for the offender – who is also their child.  

One family in particular comes to mind. Their experience alone highlights the lack of services within our community as well as the disconnect between the “haves” and the “have-nots.” The family I speak of has an 11-year-old son who has completely destroyed the home multiple times through violent outbursts, destroying furniture, physically assaulting his parents & siblings, expressing suicidal and homicidal ideologies that are graphic in nature and not to be taken lightly. The father is a teacher for children with special needs. He has medical insurance. He has access to employee assistance programs. He is extremely knowledgeable of available services and has taken advantage of many. He has had the assistance of an advocate to help him file for the Victims of Crime Program which can assist with out-of-pocket expenses related to his and his wife’s recovery…but not the offender. He and his wife have both been referred to holistic practices like trauma informed reiki that is infused with sound therapy and aroma therapy.

Over time, these parents have come to realize they can no longer function in Nevada due to lack of resources that will address the long-term needs of their son. This realization has necessitated a move to another state across the country where there is a long-term residential care facility that can house their son and provide treatment in a more stable setting than the short-term care facilities in NV. This move requires the sale of a home and the purchase of another. It requires two job resignations, the search for two new jobs, the uprooting of other children and the enrollment in new schools, making new friends, and of course – placing another child in a care facility. All of this compounds the existing trauma and need for mental health services. The move means a loss of familial support in the valley to a new city where the family knows no one. The move means revenue leaving the state of NV. I think though, one of the most stunning realizations of this particular case, is that this family, with all their education, benefits, exposure to resources, familial support, and an unusually strong understanding of the systems in place to help their son/family…they cannot make it work here. 

Imagine the families and individuals with no insurance – or worse, limited insurance that only affords certain care and requires them to pay extra for supplemental and specialized care. Imagine individuals in lower socioeconomic statuses, or persons who works night shifts and cannot make phone calls to inquire about services. What about the people with no physical support, limited financial resources, a lack of education, a lack of access to the internet, and lack of stability in their mental health? How will they navigate seeking help for their children…through an already stressed school system? Through the understaffed, underfunded, and limited service providers in their area? What about those without transportation?

For example…a person travelling from Henderson to Family Court via the RTC can expect the ride to be several hours. Several hours on a city bus. Several hours managing a child or children with special needs/circumstances who may need to eat, use the restroom, or take a nap. Several hours to reach the nearest stop that still requires walking several blocks to get to an appointment. If you’re late – you’re out. You’re likely too mentally and physically tired to want to be there let alone participate in any type of meaningful therapy or service. What if the doctor has a delay and now your appointment has to be cancelled? Now, another bus ride home. People with strongest mental fortitude are constantly taxed by these obstacles.