The Birth of The “Just Stop It” Movement: A Family’s Journey Through Mental Health Crisis

This is the story of Will, a young man who plunged into an extreme state following exposure to a synthetic street drug, which led to repeat psychiatric hospitalizations—and the effect on family members who supported him along the way. Told by his mother, Pamela, and his oldest brother, Joe, it’s also a story of resilience, loving commitment, and a push for change against a system riddled with discrimination and harms.

Pamela:

Imagine a 3D sci-fi movie where a character’s body is turned inside out. That’s how I describe my son Will’s mental health journey, which began in 2021, turning a typical night with friends into a nightmare. Once a healthy young man preparing for college, he seemed to be escaping his own body. 

This crisis affected our entire family: my daughters, U.S. veterans, and my sons, protectors of the family, were deeply impacted. My oldest son, Joe, advocated for Will and connected with mental health advocates when Will went missing. Fountain House Clubhouse, a community-based mental health support program, played a crucial role in our journey. So did our own determination as a family. 

It all started one rainy Monday night, when Will returned home from an outing with friends, convulsing and screaming, believing he had been poisoned with K2-laced marijuana. This horrifying scene replayed over the next few days. Will lost control of his bodily functions and needed assistance. By Friday, the effects of K2 had turned his brain into a monster, a stark contrast to the gentle young man we knew. In his pain, Will became violent and threatening, and he tried to bolt into the streets. 

The police department never made an effort to search for my son when he disappeared, which blatantly showed the systemic racial divide among governing bodies who do not consider our people as valuable and irreplaceable to humankind.

Joe, who had always been a father figure to Will, stayed with us to help and took it upon himself to find his brother. Without Joe, things could have ended tragically. 

Joe: 

Life had completely changed for my little brother—a smart, young, intelligent, ambitious 24-year-old born with the gifts of music and math. 

He was diagnosed with schizophrenia approximately two and a half years ago, and the journey has been dramatically great and uneasy. He was not born schizophrenic, but a horrific experience happened to him that changed both his life and my family’s life. A wicked act was done to him as he was laced with K2, a toxic life-changing drug that altered the future for him and all of those who love him. This changed the process of decision-making for him, his behavior, his ability—and this took a turn in my own life emotionally, mentally, and physically.

It took a toll on me, especially the day that he got lost for a month and a half, wandering in the boroughs of New York City. The sleepless nights that I had, trying to work a job, to eat and live through pain that burned with a fury in my heart and tears—all while searching for my brother day and night until he was found, which was a miracle in itself. But I did it all for love, because love conquers all. 

Pamela:

For 44 days, we had no idea where Will was. Only later did we realize that after the first 24 days, he had been picked up on Long Island by police and brought to the Brunswick Hospital Center. It was another 20 days before we learned where he was. So his hospitalization nearly doubled his separation from his family. We were kept in the dark. 

This marked the start of our journey through a seemingly endless tunnel. For the next few years, I navigated the labyrinth of HIPAA (Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act) privacy policies, which hindered communication about the right mental health plan for my son. 

Will’s situation worsened under the psychiatric care team at BronxCare hospital, which used HIPAA privacy laws to shut down communication between him and his family. The discrimination I witnessed as his mother was severe. Although the hospital treated his condition, the care plan lacked proper standards to help open communication among family members to advocate for Will while he was mentally incapacitated. 

During his initial hospital stay, a psychiatric doctor told me she couldn’t speak with me due to HIPAA laws and advised me to obtain guardianship through the court. This situation felt like a form of oppression. Mad in America recently published “Dismissing the ‘Human Experience’: College Students Feel Unseen by the Medical Model of Mental Health”—and I felt equally unseen by the medical model. So did my son. 

Despite the challenges, I stayed focused on changing the future. I couldn’t change history, but I could make new history in mental health support.

What I eventually learned: After being diagnosed with schizophrenia, he was put on multiple, powerful drugs. The high-powered medications prescribed to Will challenged his body and mind. He struggled in taking these drugs, which included lithium carbonate—frequently used for manic episodes—and the atypical antipsychotics risperidone and paliperidone, also known as Invega. The effects of all these drugs varied each time he took them, often worsening his state of mind. During a severe break from July 9 through Aug. 22 of last year, which led to the longest hospital stay he ever had, a supportive social worker from Lincoln Hospital intervened on his behalf with steps towards helping Will become whole again. 

She shared that Will had been receiving shots of Invega two or three times a month, an outrageous amount for a “long-acting” drug associated with significant harms. For his manic episodes he was also prescribed Depakote, which was increased from 500 mg to 1000 mg—with ongoing blood tests to monitor for toxicity or side effects. 

Joe: 

This experience did take a toll on my mental state, because I had to come to terms with life and how unfair it can be at times—and how unexpected it can be. I was challenged with thoughts of how possibly life for Will would never be the same, and how could I protect him in the future? And how can I be patient with God in his process of healing? 

The truth is that I didn’t want to be patient. I just wanted a change for him so that he can thrive or function normally without all the doses of medication that the doctors had put him on. 

I suffered thinking about the changes in his life that he didn’t expect to go through. I place myself in his shoes all the time, and can only imagine how it feels to be him with the weight of trauma that he carries. It pains me every time I think about it.

The ropes that I’ve seen my mother pull throughout the past two years to get him to where he is now to a place of stability was also hard to see and watch, as I felt limited. I felt limited because I felt weak at a certain point, and unknowledgeable, and tried my best to support and protect my mother emotionally and physically, even if I didn’t know what I was doing. 

My mother is the true advocate for my brother’s life. I’ve experienced her many sleepless nights as she looked into resources that would aid my brother’s healing and as she communicated with his assigned doctors, who had no care or heart to do what they were paid to do. This experience allowed me to see my mother’s extensive drive to advocate for other people who suffer from mental illness because they are misunderstood, and are not supported by the resources that they should be supported by. 

Pamela: 

The system’s one-size-fits-all approach for schizophrenia made Will only slightly functional to the medical team but unfunctional in his community. He needed community-based support. Hospitals follow state protocols to assess and release patients with severe mental illness, ensuring thorough evaluation and safe release. These protocols assess mental functionality, risk, and independence. However, without internal support, Will couldn’t regain his ability to live consciously in his community, risking being labeled as unfunctional.

Still, an opportunity opened for me to become a voice in his care plan. Family meetings started taking place as part of the move toward discharge with a safety net in place on his release. I was able to express my concerns and help create a plan for Will’s independence and stabilization. Miraculously, his mental health care at Lincoln Hospital started changing. 

But change didn’t come quickly. Like various shades of gray, his healing was gradual. After multiple hospitalizations, my son eventually qualified for the kind of support that he’d been needing for so long. With help from counselors and other team members of a community program, he gained a new independent lifestyle with supportive housing and financial stability. Although he lives in a residence for men, the amazing counselors and community helpers have worked diligently. He recently signed off on a new lease for an apartment and will be moving during the month of August. 

Even when he went missing, he was still fighting from a place within that we could never imagine—which he’d call a place of no return. When the racist system prevailed and the police failed to search for him, we pushed back as a community, with significant media support from mental health advocacy nonprofit organizations like YOURS NY (Youth Opportunities Underlying Resilient Solutions) and Fountain House Clubhouse Bronx. 

This struggle led to my awakening to the need for a paradigm change and the founding of the “Just Stop It” movement and podcast. We coined the phrase “Just Stop It” as a call to action for local and global community leaders and mental health policy lawmakers to reform mental health privacy rules that hinder families of young adults struggling with their mental health. Thank God, we had additional help from families in my neighborhood who also shared their stories of similarly painful experiences, feeling hopeless with no end in sight. 

Our mission is to bridge the communication gap between young adults with severe mental health challenges, their families, and the medical professionals in charge of treatment. Inspired by Will’s journey, we aim to reform the HIPAA Privacy Rule and other regulations that hinder communication. We believe in revolutionizing mental health support by creating partnerships, improving communication, and enhancing overall wellness. 

We envision reaching people—and reaching our goal—through multiple efforts, including podcasts and multimedia live-streaming, email campaigns, and surveys and questionnaires. Our aim is to evolve through workshops, focus groups, data analytics, and other initiatives, with our current focus on strengthening our peer groups and encouraging more individuals to join a mentorship endeavor we’re calling our Big Sister Big Bro Club mentorship. 

Guided by the color gray, which symbolizes wisdom and balance, we call this approach “the gray way”—patient, gradual, and determined. Small steps can carry us forward. And going at his own, unhurried pace, William is now on a new mental health journey into a place of new meaning. 

As a family, so are we. 

Joe: 

There’s much more work to be done in the medical system and in the social system. There are more barriers to break, because the system is not made to heal. It’s partially made to make money from people who suffer with their mental health, and to destroy—and make candidates for destruction. 

In my experience, I see that there is not much accountability or compassion from those who have the power to make changes for individuals in any community to have good mental health. They bypass these individuals as often as possible, drug them up, and send them back into the environment under the same conditions from which they came. The aftercare is also tremendously horrible until you fight for the care and resources that you deserve. 

The story is so extensive that it’s impossible to fit it all into one article. But I do know that my family and I have learned so much in this journey with my brother concerning mental health and how it affects every person and community—and ourselves. We have reached this far, and have passed through the core part of the experience: that is, to keep my brother alive by keeping his mental health on a positive level. 

Knowing that my brother is in a better position in life today helps me to have hope not just for him, but for everyone.