MOVING MOUNTAINS

Resources

When Outpatient Treatment Isn’t Enough for School Avoidance

For many families, the plan is straightforward.

Find a good therapist. Work hard. Give it time.

In many cases, that works.

Outpatient therapy helps countless children and adolescents overcome anxiety disorders, OCD, and school-related fears. But for some families, despite everyone’s best efforts, the situation continues to worsen. School attendance becomes increasingly inconsistent. Anxiety grows larger. Life becomes smaller. Parents begin wondering whether they are missing something.

One of the most difficult questions families ask is:

How do we know when outpatient treatment isn’t enough anymore?

There is no single answer. There is no magic number of missed school days or therapy sessions. But there are patterns that often suggest a child may need a more intensive level of care.

Recognizing those patterns early can make a meaningful difference.

When School Anxiety Stops Being About School

Parents often begin by focusing on school attendance.

That makes sense. School refusal is usually the most visible problem. But over time, many families realize the issue extends far beyond getting their child through the front doors of the building.

School avoidance is often the outward expression of something much larger.

A teenager who cannot attend school may also begin avoiding friends. Driving. Sports. Restaurants. Family vacations. Medical appointments. College planning. Job interviews. Sleepovers. Even ordinary errands.

Life slowly becomes organized around avoiding situations that provoke anxiety.

Sometimes this happens so gradually that families barely notice. They adapt. Accommodations accumulate. Expectations quietly shift downward.

Eventually, success becomes defined not by participation in life, but by the absence of crisis.

That is often the point at which families begin asking whether outpatient treatment is providing enough support.

Signs That Anxiety May Require a Higher Level of Care

Every child is different, and treatment decisions should always be made collaboratively with qualified professionals. Still, there are several situations in which a more intensive anxiety treatment program may be worth considering.

Anxiety Continues to Worsen Despite Appropriate Outpatient Treatment

Not every therapist specializes in treating anxiety disorders or obsessive-compulsive disorder. But even when families are working with clinicians who use evidence-based approaches like Exposure and Response Prevention (ERP) or Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT), progress sometimes stalls.

The child understands the skills.

They know what they “should” do.

But they remain unable to put those skills into practice consistently in daily life.

School Attendance Continues to Decline

Perhaps mornings become longer and harder.

Maybe absences increase.

Assignments pile up.

Accommodations multiply.

Parents spend hours negotiating, reassuring, transporting, or helping their child simply make it through each day.

Eventually, the family’s energy becomes devoted almost entirely to getting through tomorrow morning.

When simply attending school consumes that much emotional bandwidth, it may be time to ask whether the current level of care matches the severity of the problem.

Anxiety Is Interfering With Multiple Areas of Life

School refusal rarely stays confined to school.

Children may withdraw socially, stop participating in activities they once loved, lose independence, reverse their sleep schedule, avoid responsibilities, or spend increasing amounts of time isolated at home.

When anxiety begins affecting nearly every domain of functioning, treatment often needs to become broader and more immersive than a weekly therapy appointment can provide.

Family Life Revolves Around Anxiety

Parents naturally want to help.

Over time, however, many families find themselves unintentionally organizing daily life around preventing distress.

Schedules change.

Plans get canceled.

Siblings adjust.

Parents divide responsibilities.

Everyone becomes increasingly focused on avoiding situations that might trigger anxiety.

This is not a sign of poor parenting. It is what loving families often do when someone they care about is suffering.

But when anxiety begins dictating how the entire family functions, additional support may be needed.

Why Weekly Therapy Sometimes Isn’t Enough

This is not because therapy has failed.

It is because anxiety disorders often require children to practice doing difficult things repeatedly in real life.

A therapist may spend fifty minutes helping a teenager prepare for exposure work.

The challenge is what happens during the other 10,000 minutes of the week.

If a child spends nearly all of those hours avoiding feared situations, seeking reassurance, engaging in compulsions, or depending on accommodations, it can become incredibly difficult for new learning to take hold.

The brain continues receiving the same message:

“Avoidance keeps me safe.”

Intensive treatment changes that equation.

Instead of practicing courage once a week, children have repeated opportunities to face anxiety, tolerate uncertainty, build confidence, and receive coaching while those moments are actually happening.

For many kids, that repetition becomes the catalyst for meaningful change.

What Intensive Anxiety Treatment Looks Like

Many parents hear the words “residential treatment” and understandably imagine hospitalization or crisis care.

That is not what specialized residential anxiety treatment is designed to provide.

Programs that focus on anxiety disorders and OCD typically spend far less time talking about anxiety than people expect.

Instead, treatment focuses on helping young people gradually re-engage with life.

Children practice facing feared situations.

They learn to tolerate uncertainty.

They reduce avoidance.

They build independence.

They strengthen emotional flexibility.

They participate in school, relationships, recreation, exercise, responsibilities, and everyday experiences that anxiety has gradually pushed out of their lives.

For families, treatment often includes learning how to reduce accommodations that unintentionally keep anxiety functioning, while supporting their child in moving toward discomfort rather than away from it.

The goal is not simply symptom reduction.

The goal is restoring functioning.

Looking Beyond the Next School Day

Parents often ask whether they should simply push through another semester.

Sometimes that is appropriate.

Sometimes outpatient treatment just needs more time.

But sometimes families find themselves asking the same questions every August, every January, or every Sunday night.

“Maybe this year will be different.”

Hope matters.

But hope alone rarely changes entrenched anxiety patterns.

One helpful question is not:

“Can my child survive another semester?”

Instead ask:

“Is my child’s world becoming larger or smaller?”

Anxiety almost always moves life toward smaller.

Treatment should move life toward larger.

Toward more independence.

More flexibility.

More confidence.

More participation.

More willingness to experience discomfort in pursuit of a meaningful life.

When to Consider Residential Treatment for Anxiety

Choosing a residential anxiety treatment program is one of the biggest decisions a family can make.

It is not the right fit for every child.

But when anxiety or OCD has begun interfering with school attendance, friendships, independence, family functioning, and everyday life despite quality outpatient care, continuing to repeat the same approach may simply produce more of the same results.

The goal is never to remove children from their lives.

The goal is to help them return to those lives with greater confidence, greater flexibility, and the knowledge that anxiety no longer has to determine what they can and cannot do.

If treatment helps a child reclaim school, friendships, family relationships, and the future they want for themselves, then the question is not whether they spent time in residential treatment.

The question is how much of their life they were able to get back.

MOVING MOUNTAINS

Resources

The Distance Between Where We Are and Where We Think We Should Be

I’ve been feeling pretty exhausted recently.

It’s not the kind of tired that gets fixed by going to bed a little earlier one night. It’s more like the cumulative tiredness that comes from trying to be present in several meaningful parts of your life at the same time—and feeling like you are not doing any of them particularly well.

I just finished my second year as Executive Director at Mountain Valley. I am also a husband, a father to two very young children, a first-time homeowner, and someone who still wants to take care of himself physically, spend time outside, run, train, and feel connected to the parts of myself that exist outside of work and parenting.

All those things matter deeply to me. And, if I am being completely honest, I feel pretty fried trying to keep up with all of them.

In the past three years alone, I got married, became the leader of an organization, had two children, and bought a house. Any one of those life changes would require an adjustment period. For whatever reason—and this is admittedly a theme in my life—I decided to stack all of them on top of one another.

Right now, I am regularly operating on about five hours of sleep. I wake up and try to run, train, or do something for myself if I have the energy.

Then I spend the day leading an organization whose staff support young people and families who are in crisis and struggling emotionally.

Then I come home and try to be present with my wife and children, take care of the house, clean up the kitchen, walk the dog, take out the trash, and do all of the ordinary things that still need to happen regardless of how much energy I have left.

By the end of the day, I often feel physically and emotionally depleted. I feel less than satisfied with how I performed in the various roles I occupy, overwhelmed by what remains on my to-do list, and already aware of the demands waiting for me tomorrow.

That is hard for me. I am competitive. I am a high achiever. I expect a lot from myself. I have a pretty clear picture in my mind of the kind of leader, husband, father, athlete, and person I want to be.

The problem is that the person in that picture seems to have more time, more energy, and significantly more sleep than the person who is actually living my life right now. And so I find myself asking:

How do I bridge the gap between where I am and where I want to be?

The Story of Where I Should Be

In cognitive behavioral therapy, we often talk about “should statements.”

  • I should be able to hit my daily running mileage.
  • I should be able to answer all my emails.
  • I should be able to spend meaningful time on the ground with the kids in the program.
  • I should be able to make it home in time for dinner.
  • I should be able to keep up with the laundry and household tasks.
  • I should be able to show up more emotionally available in my relationships.

These are some of the “should” statements that run through my head on a regular basis.

In psychology, we often describe these thoughts as cognitive distortions and talk about the ways they can negatively affect our mental health. But sometimes that language does not feel like it fully captures their impact.

I do not think we emphasize enough how “should” statements can create an additional layer of suffering on top of an experience that is already difficult. One idea I have heard expressed in different ways throughout my career is this:

Suffering often lives in the distance between where we are and where we think we should be.

One area of my life where I have come to understand this lesson is through running. When I am on a long, 10-mile run and look down at my watch every few minutes to see how much farther I have to go, it becomes a form of mental torture. I am constantly comparing where I am to where I want to be: the finish line. And in that comparison, the place I am currently occupying becomes harder to tolerate.

I think a lot of people have some version of that experience. Maybe it happens while running. Maybe it happens while sitting in a difficult meeting, waiting for the workday to end, trying to get through a hard season, or hoping that some part of life will finally change.

You find yourself staring at the clock, waiting to be somewhere you are not. But the more you focus on the clock, the more you focus on where you should be or where you want to be, the harder it becomes to inhabit where you actually are.

When I apply that idea more broadly to my life right now, I can see the pathway to suffering pretty clearly.

First, it is important to acknowledge how fortunate I am. Being the leader of a great organization, being a husband, being a father, and owning a home are all challenges I am privileged to have.

But this is where the layers begin to accumulate. I experience the real difficulty of being exhausted and stretched too thin. Then I become frustrated with myself for feeling that way.

  • Why can’t I be more grateful for what I have?
  • Why can’t I find a way to make this work?
  • Other people have similar circumstances and seem to be handling them fine.
  • I should be able to do this without feeling this exhausted.

The suffering is not only in the exhaustion. It is also in the comparison—to other people, to the ideal version of my life that exists in my head, and to the version of myself I believe I should be.

Not only am I having a difficult experience. I am adding another layer of pain by telling myself there is a different way things should be.

Not Everything Needs to Be Fixed

This is where the pathway forward begins to become clearer. When I say “pathway forward,” I am intentionally avoiding the word solution. Because part of the problem is that I keep viewing the situation as something that must be solved.

That instinct makes sense. Most of us are wired to problem-solve. When something feels hard, the mind immediately starts asking:

  • What needs to change?
  • What am I doing wrong?
  • What can I remove?
  • How do I make this stop?

Sometimes those questions are useful. Sometimes we do need better boundaries, more support, more rest, or a different plan.

But there are also times when the core difficulty cannot be removed without walking away from something that matters. In those moments, continuing to treat the experience like a problem to be solved can create more suffering than the original difficulty itself.

Not every painful experience is evidence that something is wrong.

When I look at the things creating much of the strain in my life, I have to ask myself some uncomfortable but important questions.

Do I want a different job?

No. I love my work. Leading Mountain Valley is demanding, but it is also deeply meaningful to me. Service is one of my core values, and I feel fortunate to lead a program that helps young people and families move toward fuller lives.

Do I want a different marriage?

Absolutely not. My wife and I are in an intense phase of life. We are both tired. We sometimes take that tiredness out on each other. But there is no one else I would want to be doing this with.

Do I want to be less involved as a father?

No. My children have quickly become the most important part of my life. Being present with them matters to me, even when that presence comes at the cost of sleep, training, or personal time.

Do I want to stop taking care of my body and training as an athlete?

No. Movement and athletics are a core part of who I am.

When I examine the obvious solutions, I keep arriving at the same place: I do not actually want to abandon any of the things creating the pressure. And there is limited room to reduce the demands of those things without moving away from something I deeply value.

They are difficult because they matter and because I care.

That does not mean there are no adjustments to make. It does not mean I should never ask for help, set boundaries, rest, or make practical changes.

But it does mean that once I have run the gamut of possible solutions, the work may shift. Instead of trying to eliminate the difficulty, I may need to change my relationship to it.

Acceptance Is Not Resignation

Acceptance is a word that is easy to misunderstand. People sometimes hear acceptance and think it means giving up. In my situation, that misunderstanding might sound like:

So I am just supposed to be tired forever?

For someone else, it might sound like:

  • So I am just supposed to be anxious?
  • So I am supposed to accept being depressed?
  • So I should stop trying to make things better?

That is not what we mean when we talk about acceptance. Acceptance is not saying: “This is the way it is, so I am going to lie down and do nothing.”

Acceptance is saying: “This is the way it is today, and I am still going to commit myself to living my life and showing up despite how I am feeling.”

Those are very different things. Acceptance asks us to hold two truths at once.

  • I can acknowledge that I am exhausted and still show up as a father.
  • I can feel overwhelmed and still take the next meaningful step at work.
  • I can be frustrated with my current level of fitness and still go for the run I am capable of completing today.
  • I can want things to improve without requiring them to improve before I allow myself to participate in my life.
  • And, maybe even more importantly, I can want things to improve without requiring them to improve before I allow myself to feel grateful, satisfied, or at peace with the life I am living.

This concept of acceptance is central to much of what we do at Mountain Valley. Young people often arrive at treatment believing that the goal is to get rid of anxiety.

  • If I can just stop feeling anxious, then I can return to school.
  • If I can stop having intrusive thoughts, then I can be around my family.
  • If I can feel confident first, then I can do the hard thing.

But good treatment eventually asks a different question.

  • Can anxiety be present while you go to school?
  • Can uncertainty come with you while you reconnect with your life?
  • Can you feel afraid and still move toward something that matters?

The goal is not to declare war on every difficult internal experience. It is to learn that those experiences can be present without controlling the direction of our lives.

surfing the wave

Carrying the Struggle With Me

I will be the first to admit that I am not especially good at this all the time. I still wake up frustrated that I did not sleep more. I still feel disappointed when I miss a run. I still have days when I leave work feeling like I did not accomplish enough, then go home feeling like I do not have enough left to give my family.

I still catch myself treating this season of my life like a problem that should have already been solved. But I am trying to remind myself of exactly that: This is a season. It will not always look like this.

My children will get older. My sleep will probably improve. Their growing independence will allow my wife and me to reengage more meaningfully in our relationship with one another.

I will continue developing as a leader. Mountain Valley will continue to grow as an organization, and I will continue adapting to the demands of the job.

The house projects will eventually get done—or disappear because I finally realize they were not that important in the first place.

Different challenges will come. Some of the same challenges will simply change shape. I am not naive about that. But time will pass, and this season will change.

I do not gain anything by demanding that future reality from the present moment. Right now, I am tired. Right now, I am carrying a lot. Right now, I can’t give every part of my life the fullest version of myself that I wish I could give it.

And right now, I can still show up.

I can do the best work I am capable of doing that day.  I can be the best husband and father I am capable of being that day. I can take care of my body in the way that is available to me that day. I can stop waiting for the tiredness to leave before deciding that my life is meaningful.

Maybe the tiredness does not need to be removed before I move forward. Maybe I can put it in the passenger seat and bring it along for the ride.

That is what acceptance looks like for me right now. Not liking the exhaustion. Not pretending it is easy. Not deciding that nothing can change. But choosing not to add another layer of struggle by constantly insisting that my life should be somewhere other than where it is.

Jon Kabat-Zinn famously said: “You can’t stop the waves, but you can learn to surf.”

I cannot make this season completely calm. But I can stop spending so much energy arguing with the ocean.

MOVING MOUNTAINS

Resources

Alumni Spotlight: Emma Clay

If you’re constantly feeling panicked from anxiety, it might be hard to picture a day when it doesn’t rule your life. But Emma Clay, PMHNP-BC, MSN, is proof that it can happen. An early graduate of Mountain Valley, Clay faced down the worst of her panic attacks and separation anxiety in treatment. To her surprise, she found that she could survive—and thrive. Today Clay is a psychiatric nurse practitioner helping clients of all ages navigate mental health struggles, making the same kind of positive change she experienced at Mountain Valley.

Tell us about your background and how you came to Mountain Valley?

“I grew up on the North Shore of Boston, and had always really struggled with anxiety, plus some depression throughout high school. I have some chronic medical issues that contributed. I’d been in therapy and done a partial hospitalization program, and I thought I could just go to college and be fine. That did not work out. I went to Colby College in Waterville, Maine, which is where Carl Lovejoy went as well. I pretty immediately crashed and burned. My anxiety was through the roof—I couldn’t function and I had so much separation anxiety. We decided I’d take a medical leave of absence for the first semester.

I had an awesome therapist at the time, and she told me that she wouldn’t sign off on me returning to college unless I did some form of residential treatment. At first, I was like, cool, I’ll just stay home and go to a local college. Then within a month I came back and said, that’s not really what I want. I knew I was limiting myself, even though I love my family. My parents are beyond wonderful and have always been so supportive. I agreed to do residential treatment and that’s how I found out about Mountain Valley.”

Emma Clay

Tell us more about your MV experience?

“My entire time there was the exposure. It was the hardest and best thing I’ve ever done. I hated every second and it did everything I needed to help me improve. I didn’t really hate it—I had an awesome therapist and the staff were wonderful. I attended in Fall 2012, so early on and I was one of the older kids. A lot of staff members took me under their wing, which was great. It was really hard not being able to talk to my parents at first, but they were allowed to come visit me after a month.

The old campus was in Pike, New Hampshire, which is a very small town with mostly cows. You pull up and there’s not a lot going on, just two buildings right off the main road. I thought ‘This is it?’ But I don’t think I would have been successful at college or living on my own if I hadn’t attended Mountain Valley.

Even early on, Mountain Valley had a huge focus on being outdoors and in nature, which I hated at the time. I remember it was my first weekend and I was in the middle of the woods and it was raining. It was so uncomfortable, and I couldn’t contact my parents, so I was stuck. Every part of it was challenging, but it really does feel like family, and it was ultimately a comfortable environment as I got to know everyone.

My therapist worked it out with Colby that I’d be able to attend again once I was done with treatment. I did an overnight visit and thought I was totally fine and could go home. But the staff convinced me to stay at MV for the full two months, I went home in December and started back up at Colby in January. I graduated on time in 2016.”

What was the main source of your anxiety?

“I have Type One diabetes, endometriosis and rheumatoid arthritis. Being away from home made me feel unsafe. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to get my medications, or I’d get sick, and I’d repeat ‘I can’t do this’ over and over again. I would sob and hyperventilate, and be unable to calm myself.

That did happen while I was at Mountain Valley. And it was just like, then you move on with the rest of your day. I could experience that panic and know I could keep going.”

Tell us what came after college?

“I had always been interested in psychology and the medical field in general. After my Mountain Valley experience, I thought if I could make an impact on just one person, it would be worth it. I majored in psychology at Colby and then my first job out of college was working at McLean Hospital as a residential counselor. I had always been drawn to nursing as well, and while was I was at McLean I learned you could be a nurse practitioner who specialized in psychiatry.

I went to nursing school and worked for three years at Boston Children’s Hospital on their inpatient psychiatric unit. Now I’m a psychiatric nurse practitioner. I worked for two years in community health as a child prescriber, and I’m transitioning to private practice. I specialize in working with kids and adolescents, helping them figure out how to function. I think medication is very helpful and I work collaboratively with therapists. If you’re one of my patients, you have to be in therapy—I firmly believe they go together.

I don’t know if I would have ended up here without Mountain Valley. It changed my life and its trajectory in the best way possible.”

How do you handle anxiety today?

“I don’t want anxiety to stop me from doing anything. And I know it’s just anxiety, it’s okay. For me, one of the biggest things was my fight or flight mode getting really activated, so it’s difficult when your body is physically telling you something is wrong. Now I very much know my signs, and if I start to feel like I’m having a panic attack I can cut it off long before it gets to the point where I’m hyperventilating.

I’m still in therapy and I still take medication. I know anxiety is always going to be in my life and affect me, but it doesn’t rule my life anymore. I make the decisions and I can cope with anxiety and still do what I want to do.

I also know how to listen to the anxiety. There are times when I decide not to do something because it’s not worth it, or I’m feeling really tired and run down, so my anxiety will be higher and that might not be a time to push it so much. That’s also okay, we can work around it. I’ve had 14 years of learning all that, but now I know I’m safe.”

What would you say to a family who’s considering Mountain Valley?

“If you’re considering it, then you’re probably at a point where you really need it. It’s the best thing you can do for yourself and your child—provide them with a safe place to get treatment and get better. On the other side as a provider now, I know your kid might not like it, and that’s ok. If they’re not uncomfortable, it’s probably not working. It’s a gift you’re giving, and even if they’re mad about it now, they’ll appreciate it in the long run. If it’s not hard, you’re not doing it right.”

MOVING MOUNTAINS

Resources

Alumni Spotlight: James Norris

Out of the three Mountain Valley summer interns, James Norris has the most firsthand experience. He attended MV in 2021 after battling anxiety and depression, and his brother also went through the program. Today he’s pursuing a degree in psychology at the University of Rochester, with plans to get a master’s degree in counseling. James decided to return to MV to give back to the community—and he’s been pleasantly surprised with how the resident experience has become even better.

Tell us about your background and how you ended up at Mountain Valley?

“In high school I struggled a lot with anxiety that got progressively worse as it went on. Specifically relating to social anxiety as well as anxiety with food, plus some depressive episodes. It did seemingly get better with COVID, but that was kind of a misnomer because everyone was isolated. My social anxiety went away because I couldn’t socialize, which felt great in the moment. But you know, it was revealed as we phased back out of lockdown that my anxiety had become a lot worse. I had reinforced my brain to not like social interaction during COVID. As things started to phase back in, I faced a lot more friction.

That was kind of the point where I started to mentally stonewall a bit with my therapist and doctors. I would come to appointments, but I wouldn’t be responsive to the point of productive communication. I had a lot of stress around college applications—I didn’t want to visit campuses because I felt like I wasn’t supposed to be there. Looking back, it seems a bit silly, but in my mind, it was like ‘Oh God, everyone can tell I’m not supposed to be here.’

At that point, my therapist and my parents talked and basically decided it would be best for me to go to residential treatment. I agreed but I obviously wasn’t thrilled about it. I did a lot of work on social anxiety exposures, and a little bit with some food exposures, but that was kind of secondary. Over 62 days, I worked with a clinician and in the milieu to get more confident in my social skills and feel more comfortable going out.”

James Norris

What do you think was one of your most helpful exposure moments?

“When I attended Mountain Valley, I had already been accepted to college, but it was still a little up in the air if I would go or defer for a year and stay at Mountain Valley longer. I was talking to my clinician and told them, ‘You know, when I toured campuses, I had so much anxiety and felt so out of place, like something was wrong.’ My clinician decided we’d go to Dartmouth’s campus to walk around. I felt even more out of place because on top of being a college that I wasn’t accepted to, it was Dartmouth, which is very recognizable.

That was one of the biggest exposures I did, and it stands out in my mind as the one that got the ball rolling on getting better at anxiety stuff and facing fear. The goal was to go walk around a little bit, for 15 or 20 minutes. I remember feeling so anxious beforehand and relieved when it was over. Unpacking it in therapy later, we talked about why I felt so relieved and that there wasn’t actually anything to be relieved from. That exposure work helped intellectualize my anxiety a bit.”

What came next?

“I ended up going to college and had a great freshman year. I was in a group called Focus Collegiate that help college students manage work with executive functioning skills. I took a summer class and thought ‘Wow, that went great, I don’t think I need Focus Collegiate anymore.’ But in my sophomore year, I ran into roadblocks early on. I got sick and I couldn’t make class for very real reasons. That spiraled my ADHD—not going to class brought out another version of my anxiety around executive functioning skills, which were lacking.

One thing led to another, and I ended up in a depressive anxiety spiral. I didn’t attend class much at all that year and I claimed it as medical leave, as well as the following year. My parents asked if I wanted to go back to Mountain Valley, but I decided to do some behavioral coaching, working with a virtual and in-person coach. As I did that work, going back through the exposures Mountain Valley taught me helped me as I worked on executive functioning. I ended up going back to school and I’m currently pursuing my psychology degree—my goal is to be a therapist or psychologist.”

Now you’re back at Mountain Valley, this time as a summer intern. Tell us more about that?

“I have always been very grateful for Mountain Valley and how it helped my social anxiety. I recognize it didn’t solve all my problems, but I’ve always been thankful. I remembered that an intern program existed in some capacity from when I was there. I thought it would be a great experience and a way to give back to a community that gave a lot to me.

I also wanted to sit down with Zack Schafer and talk about my suggestions for how the program could improve. I had some ideas for how it could be even more helpful—but when I came back, I saw I didn’t even need to suggest changes because they’d already been implemented. It’s been five years since I attended, which is a long time, but it really isn’t institutionally.”

Summer Interns 26
Norris (right) with his fellow summer interns

What are some of the changes you’ve noticed?

“The switch to a longer 90-to-120-day program, which I think is helpful. When I was there, the schedule was much more intense and I think the residents still do intense work, but it’s not as compressed. The schedule now gives residents more space to recover after putting in the work.

Another change is all the autonomies that have been introduced. When I was a resident, we only had independent autonomy, but now there is tech autonomy, walking autonomy, and so on. I think that’s such a great thing for giving residents some of the freedoms back, and it also better mimics normal life. If you don’t have access to tech at all in treatment, that’s not how you’re going to live in the future. Eventually the goal is for you to leave Mountain Valley and be in the world, and you’ll have access to your phone. You need to learn how to have a healthy relationship with it.

We also have gym autonomy now, so this gives residents more agency to move their bodies in ways that feel good. It gives the kids flexibility to meet their needs in community while still respecting the therapeutic process.

The biggest change I’ve noticed is the OT scheduling. Now there’s a focus on how you practice therapy every day in the occupations, and how you integrate some of these very helpful techniques into your everyday life. I think it’s especially helpful to have OTs available on the day shift for anything that comes up—we have two OTs on day shift that can jump in as needed to help residents. Obviously, they aren’t the main clinicians, but from my observations, they can help bridge the gap and talk to them while waiting for their clinician.”

Anything else you want to add?

“Mountain Valley does a great job accommodating medical needs that don’t necessarily interfere with treatment but still need to be addressed. For example, I’m a Type One diabetic, so they were great about making sure I had access to everything I needed to manage that. We worked out how I could quickly access a medication if need be. I’ve seen the same for residents with other conditions.”

MOVING MOUNTAINS

Resources

Alumni Spotlight: David Schuftan

When David Schuftan attended Mountain Valley, he was so organized that staff could count on him to know the daily schedule. He used those outstanding executive skills to thrive academically—and used the skills he learned at Mountain Valley to meet his future partner and weather job uncertainty. Today he lives in St. Louis and works as an engineer for a medical device start-up. We caught up with David, who also just got married, to learn more about his experience as a Mountain Valley resident and alum:

Tell us about your background and your experience at Mountain Valley?

“I grew up in Livingston, New Jersey and went through the public school system through 10th grade. I had bad anxiety and depression for years, and I’d been doing outpatient group therapy since middle school. I was missing a lot of school, and I had been hospitalized for a week at one point. Things weren’t really working. I didn’t feel like I could sustain friendships well and when my academic performance started declining, that was the signal to my family that we needed to do something different.

I didn’t want to go to Mountain Valley, and once I arrived, I wasn’t very receptive for the first couple of weeks. For example, I refused to go on the first weekend trip and didn’t want to talk at all during therapy. I was there for I think 153 days and by the end I was extremely happy to be there. I really enjoyed my time and gained a lot. I wouldn’t be who I am today without it, that’s for sure.

Just being in that disconnected environment helped me not have to worry about my normal life. In the past, even if I was in therapy, I was still going back home, and I think being in a totally disconnected place was really helpful. My clinician at the time was Sharon McCallie-Steller and we still keep in touch—I even invited her to my wedding.

My parents are also really passionate about Mountain Valley as an organization. If you go into the kitchen of the clinical building, they donated money to honor Sharon with a plaque. She was so helpful to me and is part of the reason I’m where I am today.”

What does your anxiety look like?

“I had really bad social anxiety and I’ve been able to adopt the mindset that I don’t really care as much. I’m able to reframe my thoughts and basically have two streams of consciousness. I can separate from the unhealthy thoughts and think about them rationally. That’s definitely a skill I gained at Mountain Valley.

I remember one time I was in a session with Sharon, and she drew an upwards S curve, showing how anxiety was a continuous cycle. The take-home message was that I’d have to separate from it and re-contextualize it to break the cycle, and that diagram is often on my mind.”

David Schuftan

What came after Mountain Valley?

“Although I was initially against it, my parents and therapist made the choice for me to attend a non-therapeutic boarding school. It was really good for me and I was one of the strongest students there academically. It gave me the confidence to grow and do what I wanted. I graduated valedictorian, I was captain of the soccer team, I did set and lighting design in the theater, and I was on the school judicial council.

I also think not living with my parents helped me become more independent. It was the right decision, and it set me up to go to a good university, get a degree and start a successful career. I ended up attending Washington University in St. Louis for biomedical engineering and now I work at a medical device start-up company.”

Tell us about your work in biomedical engineering?

“We are using augmented reality (AR) headsets during a procedure called a cardiac ablation. When the electrical rhythms in the heart aren’t correct, physicians go in with catheters and kill the heart tissue that’s not properly moving electricity. The catheters are placed in an electromagnetic field to track the location, which is used to build a map of the heart. They’ve had this technology since the ‘90s to build a 3D heart map, but it’s always been on a two-dimensional screen.

We’ve started aking the map and making it a 3D hologram by putting it into an AR headset. Because you have binocular vision in the AR headset, you can see depth perception to better understand the 3D geometry, and the physician can control what they see. Because they’re scrubbed using sterile technique when in the operating room, they can’t touch a computer to control what they’re seeing from the map of the heart—instead, they had to have someone else do it. My background wasn’t really in software, but I’ve learned a lot. In my role I also do a lot of documentation, process optimization, and testing and verification.

I started in 2023 and early in 2025, we ran out of money for a bit and the staff was furloughed. The market was really volatile, and no one wanted to give money for start-ups. It was a difficult period, but I think some of the skills I learned at Mountain Valley helped me. I thought about how I could refocus my energy while I waited and eventually they brought me back, although as part of a downsized team. Now things are going well in the company again, which is good because I don’t want to leave St. Louis.”

What do you enjoy about St. Louis?

“I came here for undergrad in 2017 and stayed here during COVID. I met my husband in 2020 and we just got married. We own a house together and have two cats that are our children. He’s from St. Louis and currently in medical school so we’re tied to the area. Life is pretty good.

For a while I was involved in the community as a soccer referee, which helped me with my confidence and gave me more practice communicating assertively. For example, I was refereeing for an adult league, and that was an interesting experience because there were a lot of immigrant teams. I had to be confident in my abilities as I was dealing with different cultures and learning how to understand, rationalize and connect with them.”

What are your long-term career goals?

“I want to continue working as an engineer developing products. I think ideally after my husband graduates and he’s working in a hospital, he’ll identify a problem that we can solve, and we can begin our own start-up company together. I like having my hand in a lot of different areas and being able to do different things every day. I really like that about working for a start-up. Even though what I’m doing isn’t exactly what I imagined during undergrad, I enjoy the people I work with and being able to do so many different things in any given week.”

What would you say to someone considering Mountain Valley, but feels apprehensive about taking that chance?

“I would say it’s totally understandable. You’re in a new place without anyone you know around. You have to be open to what’s suggested and really embrace it, because you’ll likely never have that opportunity again. It really was one of the best times of my life.

Today when I talk to people, I find a lot of them don’t have the emotional skillsets that I have. Even though maybe something chemically in my brain wasn’t quite right, I find that I’m more capable in a lot of ways now, and that is because of Mountain Valley.”

MOVING MOUNTAINS

Resources

Just Keep Writing

 Trigger Warning: This post is a personal story and contains discussion of suicide, grief, and loss. Some readers may find parts of this story emotionally difficult. Please read gently and step away if you need to.

If you or someone you know is struggling or in crisis, call or text 988 to reach the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline. Support is available 24/7.

It was May 26, 2017, and I was home for Memorial Day weekend on a much-needed long break from graduate school. As was typical when I came home, I was working on plans to see my high school friends.

I come from a small town in Massachusetts with a very tight-knit community. I know that for many people, high school friendships can fade over the years, but in our town, and in my friend group, it is common for those relationships to last a lifetime. Even when long gaps of time pass between seeing one another, once we are reunited, it feels as if nothing has changed.

My friends and I were particularly close. We had all played football together at our local high school. Our football program was, and still is, one of the best public school programs in Massachusetts. I do not share that to brag. I share it because it gives context to the experiences we shared together and to the foundation of what became an unbreakable bond.

Weightlifting sessions at six o’clock in the morning. Long conditioning sessions in the hot summer sun. Sleepaway camp in the hills of the Berkshire Mountains. And, fortunately for us, many Friday night wins, league championships, and a coveted state championship victory.

Through the hard work, the wins, and the losses, whether we knew it at the time or not, we were developing a deep emotional connection with one another. We supported each other at our lowest, celebrated each other at our highest, and, above all else, believed in one another and stood behind one another no matter what the game, or life, threw at us.

That bond, built by pushing ourselves to our limits alongside one another and in service of something bigger than ourselves, became the foundation for friendships that would last a lifetime. So anytime I was home, one of the first things I tried to schedule was time with my friends.

Although we were all deeply committed to one another, as with most busy young men in their twenties, it was hard to get our schedules aligned. I remember trying to organize dinner plans in our group chat. Some of us were available, some were not, and some were not responding.

One of my friends was especially insistent that we meet up that night. I remember thinking, “Wouldn’t it be better to wait until we can all get together?” But he said he was going to the local Irish pub in the center of town with his girlfriend, and he expected us to meet them there.

Although I was not sure if my other friends would make it, I hopped in my car and headed downtown.

I remember arriving at the restaurant and seeing him and his girlfriend sitting closely next to one another in a booth. They were chatting, laughing, and my friend was shining that big, doofy grin everyone knew him by. I sat down with the two of them, and for a little while, it was just the three of us.

At the time, I remember my mind drifting, wondering if any of my other buddies were going to show up. But looking back on it now, given how this story plays out, I will always be grateful for those first 30 minutes of that night when it was just me, my buddy, and his girlfriend.

Eventually, another friend from our group showed up. We hung out, ate some food, had a few drinks, and caught up. My friend and I made plans to go to the gym together in the morning. Even after all those years, we still had the itch to get together and push ourselves physically, and we still got the best out of ourselves when we did it together.

We left the pub, gave each other a big hug, said “I love you,” which was a common practice in our friend group, and said, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

On the morning of May 27, 2017, I woke up early, gathered my stuff for the gym, hopped in my car, and headed out. I arrived on time, but my friend was not there yet. I did not think twice about it. He was not exactly Mr. Punctuality. So I did what I usually did: started stretching and warming up while keeping a close eye on the door and waiting for him to arrive.

As I was lunging around the gym with my big overhead Beats headphones blaring, my phone began to ring. It was another friend from our group. At that point, I was pretty locked in and focused on my workout, and as far as I knew, this friend was not planning to join us, so I clicked ignore.

The phone rang again.

Two calls in a row was unusual. Something was up.

I remember answering the call with the sound still connected to my headphones through Bluetooth. My friend was screaming, and I could not make out the words. I think I said something like, “Okay, okay, slow down.” Eventually, through the crying and screams, I heard him say, “You need to meet me at [our friend’s] house right now.”

I did not think twice. I hung up the phone, grabbed my belongings, and hopped in my car. I remember speeding out of the parking lot and running a few red lights, my mind focused only on getting there as fast as possible.

My friends were in trouble and needed my help.

While driving, I called my mom from the car. I told her I had received a distressing call from a friend, that I was headed over to meet them at my other friend’s house, and that I was not sure what was going on or when I would be home. At the time, one of our friends, the friend whose house I was driving toward, had a couple of health issues going on, and I was worried something had happened to him.

When I arrived at my friend’s house, I pulled down the long driveway and saw him and his mom standing in the front yard. At first, I felt relief. As I mentioned, this was the friend who had some health issues, and to see him upright and seemingly okay put me at ease.

I got out of my car and immediately asked, “Hey man, what’s going on?”

He did not know. He told me he had also received a distressing call from our friend but did not know what had happened.

Moments later, the friend who had called us came barreling down the driveway in his car. He got out, fell to his knees, and said, “[Our friend] is dead.”

I remember denial sweeping through me faster than a lightning bolt.

What? No way. That can’t be. We were just with him last night. He was going to meet me at the gym this morning. This has to be misinformation.

But my friend in front of me was clearly distraught and in a tremendous amount of pain. We hugged him and listened. Once he calmed down enough to talk, we began asking questions.

And then he said it.

“He killed himself last night.”

Then, silence.

My other friend and I paused and looked at each other. There was something about what he said that shifted us from questioning the news to reckoning with it.

Still, we kept asking questions. Despite the pain and conviction in his voice, it was still difficult to believe. But slowly, the gravity of the situation began to weigh in.

We decided that the three of us would drive over to our friend’s house to check in. It almost felt like we had to see it for ourselves.

I remember the three of us packing into my friend’s little sedan. We pulled out of the driveway, and when we got about a mile down the road, it really started to hit me. I felt anger and rage surge through my body. Through tears and a hoarse yell, I said to my friends in the car, “Don’t ever do this. If you ever need anything, just call. Okay? Just call.” My friends just continued to shed tears of their own.

Our friend who had passed away lived only a few miles up the road, and before we knew it, we were pulling into the driveway. There were more cars than usual, and one of his sisters was on the front porch talking to someone. We parked, opened the door, and slowly started approaching the house. His sister saw us, began crying, and came over to greet us with a hug.

It was real.

It had happened.

My friend, who had been smiling, laughing, and hugging me less than 12 hours earlier, was gone. He had taken his own life.

As I sit here and write this on May 26, 2026, nine years after my buddy’s passing, I am putting written words to the memory of this day for the first time. Each year, when this anniversary comes up, I try to lean into the emotion that this day holds and do something in his memory to make meaning of his passing.

In past years, I have typically gone out into the woods to reflect and be close to my friend. Solitude in nature is where I feel closest to his presence. In addition to that, I will usually post something on social media as a gentle reminder of a great life that was lived, the great loss we experienced, and what we can all do each day to honor that loss by living our own lives more fully.

Although I still plan to go outside and be with him over the course of the next day, this year I thought I would write a blog post and reflect on this event in my life, the lessons I learned, and how I see those lessons overlapping with some of the work we do here at Mountain Valley.

Fear

At the time, I do not think I would have ever looked at this event, my own experience, or the presumed experience of my friend through the lens of fear and anxiety. Now, from where I stand, I cannot help but see it that way.

There was fear he must have been feeling. Although we will never know for sure what he was experiencing, he was clearly struggling on a deep level and felt like he could not let anyone know. His best friends did not know. His girlfriend did not know. His family did not know.

For years, I struggled with ruminating over what my friends and I could have done differently to make him feel more comfortable coming forward. Was it our “macho bro” culture that kept him from feeling like he could be vulnerable? Did we make jokes or comments at times that made him think it was unsafe to share these things?

Having worked in the mental health field now for almost a decade, I have come to accept that while there may always be things we wish we had seen or done differently, we cannot fully know or control the fear, pain, or inner world another person is carrying.

Every day, I work with young people who are deeply afraid of what others think of them, even while surrounded by people who love, support, and accept them. That does not mean their environment does not matter. It does. The people around us can provide safety, reassurance, compassion, and support. But fear often lives beneath the surface, rooted in the private places of our minds, in the stories we tell ourselves about who we are, whether we are enough, and whether we are safe to be truly known.

Others can help create the conditions for healing, but they cannot do the healing for us. At some point, each of us has to begin bringing those fears into the light.

I also think about the fear my friends and I faced that day. I think about our decision to hop in the car and drive over to our friend’s family’s house, knowing that some tragedy may have just taken place. We did not blink. We did not think twice. It is incredible how brave we can be in the face of uncertainty when it involves something, or someone, we deeply value.

Lastly, I think about the subsequent fear that I, and many of us who went through that experience, have lived with since that day.

For me, it was my first time really confronting death. I had lost people I knew, but no one I was that close with. It was the first time I was forced to come to grips with my own mortality and the mortality of the people I love.

Although that may sound morbid, it has also been one of the most tremendous gifts I have ever been given. Because if you lean into fear far enough, you may find yourself standing in love and gratitude.

I am afraid of losing my life. I am afraid of losing those close to me. And because of that, I take more time to appreciate the subtle beauties of the people, places, and things that make up my day-to-day life.

This was the first time I realized that fear, although unpleasant to feel and often unruly in the mind, can also be a catalyst for recognizing and reveling in what matters most. And in many ways, that connection between fear, values, and meaningful living is at the heart of the work we do at Mountain Valley.

Making Meaning of Struggle

The idea that fear can help us identify and lean into our values is connected to something bigger, something we see every day at Mountain Valley: life’s hardest moments can sometimes become part of life’s most meaningful growth.

In the moment of struggle, no one wants to hear that one day this pain may become the start of something beautiful. In fact, when others try to point that out too soon, it can feel obnoxious, dismissive, and out of touch.

But with time, space, and deep reflection, we may begin to see how pain can shape us in meaningful ways.

None of that makes the loss easier, and none of it makes his death make sense. But losing my friend in this way became part of what ignited my passion for entering the mental health field. That passion led me to take a job at a psychiatric hospital during the end of my graduate school years. It was during that job that I came across the Occupational Therapy Mental Health Fellowship program at the University of North Carolina. At UNC, I trained alongside some of the best mental health occupational therapists in the country, and I met a beautiful young colleague who I am now lucky enough to call my wife.

My work at UNC inspired me to seek out more holistic, nature-based settings for healing, which eventually led me to Mountain Valley.

And now, as I sit here typing these words, I have an incredible job at a tremendous institution, a beautiful wife, two loving kids, and a home in the forests of Vermont.

Do I wish my friend were still alive? Do I wish he had been at my wedding? Do I wish my kids had one more “uncle” who would have loved them more than anything?

Of course I do.

But I can honestly say that I do not know where I would be, or what I would be doing, if this event had never happened in my life.

All this to say: we never know the ripple effects that a moment of struggle and immense pain may have down the line. It is hard to judge the meaning of a chapter when you are deep in the throes of the events unfolding within it.

But if you keep reading, and the story continues to play itself out, you may be surprised by the meaningful role that chapter played in the arc of the story. You may be surprised by the role that chapter played in the development of the main character. And maybe, just maybe, you may look back on that dark chapter with more appreciation for the role it played in getting the story to where it is now.

For our youth and families at Mountain Valley, many are deep in the chapter of struggle.

And for many of you reading this, you may be too.

But as we close out May, Mental Health Awareness Month, I encourage everyone to keep doing one thing:

Pick up the pen of your life and just keep writing.

You never know where the story may lead.

MOVING MOUNTAINS

Resources

Staff Spotlight: Cody Nance

Engaging Sincerely With The World

Cody Nance serves as residential supervisor on the day shift. Whether he’s having a long conversation with a resident or cuddling one of the resident farm animals, Cody brings a connected presence that adds genuine warmth to the Mountain Valley environment. Cody has worked at Mountain Valley for four years but originally lived a long way from New Hampshire. Fortunately, he found his way to New England for a job that he calls “the best thing I’ve ever done.”

Tell us about your background?

“I’m from Fort Worth, Texas. I started college hoping to get a degree in journalism so I could be a movie critic, but that didn’t quite pan out. I ended up getting a degree in general studies and bounced around after that doing a lot of things.

I was access services supervisor for a college library in Florida. I was a security guard for a zoo and two hospitals. I’ve trained dogs, and I guess the most pertinent job experience was working as a CPS case worker. It gave me a lot of experience prioritizing what matters when you deal with a person. I had done a lot of very public facing customer service type stuff that allowed me to interact with strangers. Working in child protective services allowed me to fine tune those skills. I always endeavor to help people feel if they’ve been engaged with sincerely.

We moved to New England when my wife ended up getting a job at Dartmouth in human resources at the library. I was looking for a job on Indeed and Mountain Valley popped up. I saw I could work with animals and young people and I was sold—it’s been four years since then.”

Cody Nance

What does a typical day look like for you?

“I come in and touch base with the rest of the day shift staff. I’ve generally already made the schedule for the day, but I fine tune it with what I see on the calendar that day and run it by clinicians. I help stewardship get underway and sometimes I am in stewardship. If we have an intake coming, I will help prepare the materials necessary, or if a resident’s graduating, I help get the materials for them to leave.

After stewardship I feel like I can be anywhere doing anything. I try to be kind of a glue person and bridge gapes wherever I can and whenever I’m able.”

What’s the most challenging and most rewarding part of your work?

“Most challenging is knowing when to step back. Anyone here could tell you that I struggle to tell the difference between reassurance and general sharing of positive information. I tend to be a little too helpful in that regard.

The most rewarding is getting to play any part in the journeys of the residents here and help them in any way I can. It’s enormously rewarding to be a stable and consistent part of their lives. Just getting to know them, spend time with them, and be of assistance to them. It’s one of my favorite things that I’ve ever done.”

Do you have a specific memory of working with a resident?

“Not so long ago we had a resident who tended to get stuck and would spend a lot of time in their bathroom. This came at a time when I was able to step away from things that I was usually doing and embrace other responsibilities. I wound up with more time than I’d had in the past.

I found myself in their room very frequently, lying on the ground, kind of speaking into the crack under the bathroom door so they could hear me. We’d talk for long periods of time and try to go through their process. In that very delicate and private setting, they trusted me enough to really let me in. They did end up graduating, and I definitely lost it on their grad day.

That is very much the kind of experience that makes Mountain Valley the only place I have ever enjoyed working. It’s easily the best thing I’ve ever done.”

You’re a big animal lover and frequently interacting with the farm animals. What draws you to animals specifically?

“The relationship I have with animals is the foundation for the positive relationship I have with myself. The love that I have had for animals, spending time nurturing them, that has allowed me to extend myself to others. I’ve had dogs all my life and even had a pet pig at one point. I’m only able to show up for residents the way that I am because I have spent so long with animals.

I think there’s so much connective tissue between the oxen, for example, and the residents. I feel we have so much more in common than we have different. I’m not really a spiritual person, but I feel we are all kind of one.”

You originally wanted to be a movie critic. What’s your favorite movie?

“It would have to be the third Exorcist movie. I’ve gone through so much of my life not knowing what I wanted to do with myself, feeling listless and useless. The Exorcist movies are really about the value and blessing of clarity of purpose—knowing what is valuable and what is worth your time and efforts. It has meant increasingly more to me as the years have gone by.”

MOVING MOUNTAINS

Resources

Why Summer Can Be the Worst Time to “Wait and See” About Anxiety

For many families, summer feels like a long exhale.

The school refusal eases. Morning battles disappear. Stomachaches fade. Panic lessens. Kids laugh more. The house becomes calmer. After a brutal school year filled with anxiety, avoidance, conflict, and emotional exhaustion, parents often feel like they finally have their child back.

Naturally, many families begin asking the same question:
Maybe things are getting better?

And sometimes they are.

But often, what looks like recovery is actually something very different.

Anxiety disorders frequently appear to improve during the summer not because the anxiety itself has healed, but because many of the triggers that activate the anxiety are temporarily gone. School pressures disappear. Performance demands lessen. Social evaluation decreases. Structure relaxes. Fear-producing situations become easier to avoid.

The nervous system settles because the child is no longer confronting what feels threatening. That relief is real. But relief is not always the same thing as recovery.

This is one of the reasons summer can become such a dangerous time to adopt a “wait and see” approach toward treatment.

The Illusion of Improvement

Anxiety is deeply contextual.

A child who is overwhelmed during the school year may look dramatically different in July than they did in March. Parents often see meaningful changes:

– less irritability,
– fewer meltdowns,
– more laughter,
– improved sleep,
– reduced conflict,
– and fewer visible symptoms.

The temptation is to conclude that the anxiety itself is resolving.

But if the improvement depends entirely on the removal of demands, the stability may be far more fragile than it appears. If a child only feels okay when they do not have to attend school, socialize, tolerate uncertainty, complete work, navigate peer relationships, or face evaluation, then the underlying anxiety has often not been addressed. The feared situations have simply been removed from the equation.

This is important because avoidance works incredibly well in the short term. That is precisely why anxiety disorders become so powerful.

When avoidance reduces distress, the brain learns:
“This is how I stay safe.”

Over time, the vicious circle strengthens. Relief reinforces retreat, and retreat reinforces fear. Meanwhile, families understandably mistake the absence of crisis for genuine healing.

Summer Avoidance Often Looks “Normal”

One of the reasons this dynamic is so difficult to recognize is that summer avoidance rarely looks as alarming as school-year avoidance.

During the academic year, anxiety becomes visible quickly because school forces engagement. Kids must wake up, leave the house, tolerate structure, interact socially, perform academically, and face discomfort repeatedly.

In the summer, however, life often becomes flexible enough to accommodate anxiety almost invisibly.

A teenager isolates in their room most of the day, but “they’re decompressing after a stressful year.”

A child avoids social situations, but “summer schedules are inconsistent anyway.”

Sleep patterns completely reverse, but “it’s summer vacation.”

An adolescent refuses camps, jobs, sports, or travel, but “they just need a break.”

Parents often feel relieved simply because the intensity of the suffering has decreased. After months of chaos, many families desperately want peace, connection, and a normal summer together. That desire is understandable.

But anxiety disorders do not typically heal through retreat from life. More often, they grow quietly inside shrinking worlds. And the shrinking can happen slowly enough that everyone adapts to it.

Over time, the family’s definition of “doing okay” can quietly shift downward. A child who once played sports, saw friends regularly, traveled easily, and participated fully in school may now spend most of the day isolated at home, yet everyone feels grateful simply because there are fewer visible meltdowns or battles.

That is part of what makes anxiety disorders so deceptive. Life can become progressively smaller while the home temporarily feels calmer.

When “Here We Go Again” Sets In

One of the most damaging aspects of delaying treatment is that anxiety rarely returns in the fall as a completely fresh experience. Kids remember.

They remember the panic from the previous school year. They remember the dread on Sunday nights, the stomachaches in the parking lot, the exhaustion of white-knuckling through classes, the embarrassment of falling behind, the social fears, the nurse visits, the incomplete work, the tears, the shutdowns, and the feeling of watching everyone else move through life more easily than they can.

So when school starts back up and the anxiety returns, it often doesn’t just reactivate fear. It shakes confidence.

Many kids enter the fall thinking:

– “Here we go again.”
– “I thought I was better.”
– “Why does this keep happening to me?”
– “Maybe I’m never actually going to get better.”

That hopelessness matters.

Over time, untreated anxiety can begin reshaping the way a child sees themselves. The issue stops feeling like “I’m struggling with anxiety” and starts becoming “this is just who I am.” Kids begin organizing their identity around fragility, limitation, and avoidance.

The fear becomes larger not only because the triggers return, but because the child now expects failure before the year even begins. Anticipatory anxiety starts earlier. The dread becomes more rehearsed. The return to school begins feeling less like a challenge and more like confirmation of a feared identity.

And each cycle can deepen the problem.

Every time anxiety disappears only because demands are removed, the brain learns the same lesson again:
“I can only feel okay when I escape.”

That makes the return to school feel more threatening each year. The contrast between the safety of avoidance and the demands of real life becomes sharper. Confidence erodes further. Avoidance patterns become more automatic and ingrained.

This is one of the reasons anxiety can become harder to treat over time if left unaddressed. Not because children are incapable of getting better, but because the anxiety becomes increasingly woven into routines, expectations, identity, and daily functioning.

The longer the pattern repeats, the more life can begin organizing itself around fear.

Why Summer Can Actually Be the Best Time for Treatment

Ironically, many of the reasons families avoid treatment during the summer are the exact reasons summer can be one of the most effective times to intervene.

Without the constant pressure of school, kids often have more emotional bandwidth to engage meaningfully in treatment. Families are less reactive. Schedules are more flexible. There is more space for reflection, skill-building, exposure work, family work, and behavioral change before another academic year begins.

Rather than spending the entire summer recovering from anxiety, families can use the summer to prepare for life beyond it.

That does not mean children should lose opportunities for rest, fun, friendships, travel, or downtime. Those things matter tremendously. Kids need play, connection, leisure, and recovery.

But there is an important difference between restoration and avoidance.

The goal of treatment is not to eliminate discomfort from a child’s life. The goal is to help children build the confidence and flexibility to tolerate discomfort without retreating from life itself.

Summer can provide a uniquely valuable runway for that work.

Instead of entering the fall already defeated and overwhelmed, children can begin developing:

– healthier routines,
– increased distress tolerance,
– more confidence facing feared situations,
– improved emotional regulation,
– stronger social engagement,
– greater independence,
– and a growing belief that anxiety does not have to control their lives.

Thinking Beyond the Next Semester

One of the hardest parts of parenting an anxious child is resisting the understandable desire for immediate relief.

Of course parents want peace after a difficult year. Of course they want their child to relax, smile, and enjoy summer. Of course they want to believe things are finally getting better.

But anxiety disorders often require families to think beyond the emotional weather of the moment.

The real question is not:
“Does my child seem calmer right now?”

The real question is:
“Is my child building a life organized around engagement or around avoidance?”

Because anxiety almost always encourages the second path.

Children do not become resilient by never feeling anxious. They become resilient by learning they can face anxiety without surrendering their lives to it. Confidence usually comes afterward — after tolerating discomfort, after facing feared situations repeatedly, after discovering they are more capable than the anxiety tells them they are.

That process rarely happens accidentally.

Moving Toward Fall with Intention

Summer can create the illusion that anxiety has disappeared when it has simply gone dormant. The absence of school demands often lowers distress enough that families understandably hope the problem has resolved itself.

Sometimes it has.

But when anxiety has already begun interfering with school attendance, friendships, independence, family functioning, emotional regulation, or participation in life, waiting passively for it to heal on its own can allow the problem to become more deeply rooted.

Anxiety disorders generally do not improve through avoidance and time alone.

More often, they improve when children gradually learn that discomfort is survivable, that fear does not need to dictate behavior, and that they are capable of engaging with life even when anxiety is present.

The goal is not simply to help kids survive another school year.

The goal is to help them reclaim the parts of life anxiety has slowly convinced them to abandon.

MOVING MOUNTAINS

Resources

Alumni Spotlight: Izzy Witkos

Izzy Witkos didn’t have a normal childhood. At 10 years old, she struggled with anxiety, depression, and obsessive-compulsive disorder, and doctors diagnosed her with PANS/PANDAS. The condition stems from the body’s response to infection and causes the sudden onset of psychological and neurological symptoms.

As a result, she traded the classroom for doctor’s visits while her family sought appropriate care. She worked to manage her complex symptoms, which also included an eating disorder, while trying to make it through high school. Something flipped the summer before her senior year, and Witkos decided she’d either end her life or get help at Mountain Valley. Fortunately, she chose MV and quickly realized it was the one of the best decisions of her life. We caught up with the 2017 graduate at her home in Southern California, where she’s working to become a board-certified lactation consultant.

Tell us about your background and how you came to Mountain Valley?Izzy Witkos

“I grew up in Massachusetts and struggled with many different things, including being sick with PANDAS/PANS and Lyme disease. There were a lot of different factors going on.

I switched to a Montessori school in sixth grade for more support, and I was missing a lot of school for hospital and doctor visits. I ended up at an academy for high school, but I was still really sick, physically and mentally. I toured Mountain Valley for the first time in February 2017, and I did not want to go. I had severe separation anxiety and the thought of being away from my parents was really anxiety provoking.

I was too scared to commit, but then I had a really hard summer going into my senior year of high school. I was at an outpatient facility every day and it was not going well. I remember I had this thought one evening that I’d either kill myself, or go to bed, wake up, and go to Mountain Valley.

I went downstairs and told my mom I was going to go. They called, and a week later we were driving up together.”

What was your Mountain Valley experience like?

“It was emotional and surreal. For years I’d been in outpatient programs and by the time I arrived, I was physically healthier, but the mental part was difficult. The first 24 hours didn’t seem real. After a week I thought ‘This was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made in my life.’

When I was younger it felt like everyone told me what to do, and for the first time I took initiative for my own mental health. I was so determined. They told me the average stay was 90 days, and I knew I’d graduate sooner—I knew what I needed to work on and I was ready.

I journaled every single day I was there. I had the idea to draw a triangle on my hand every day, with one side representing the physical, the second emotional, and the third spiritual strength. It was so meaningful to me that I had it tattooed on my hand later.

The residential staff were such an amazing part of my experience, I cannot speak more highly of them, and I still remember some of their names and nicknames. Every single person was amazing and so willing to listen, and that was all I needed sometimes. It’s a hard job but a wonderful job.

I think so highly of Don Vardell, and I still have the shirt he gave me at graduation. It’s my prized possession. I feel overwhelming gratitude and joy when I look back. I have nothing bad to say about the experience. It’s so ironic to think that about a treatment center, but I knew I needed to do something, and it gave me the skills I needed. Every time someone asks me what helped the most, I tell them Mountain Valley.”

Do you have any favorite memories from your time at MV?

“I was a big runner and loved to run, but I’d struggled with an eating disorder and OCD around exercise. The first week I was there, I wasn’t allowed to work out, so I learned to have rest days. My exercise addiction went out the window. Once I got the privilege back to run, I’d get up early with the walkie talky and feel so at peace. I knew the staff trusted me and it was teaching me to trust in myself. It was nice to have that solitude before I worked hard the rest of the day.”

What came next?

“I was able to attend Skidmore College and graduated on time with honors. I pursued a master’s degree in mental health and was close to completing it before I had a pivot. I decided that the decision was fueled by trauma and it was time to do something different.

Now I’m a birth doula and in a lactation program at UC San Diego. I want to become a board-certified lactation consultant and work in the medical field. It’s funny because I spent a lot of my childhood in hospitals, but I love it now—especially working with children and pregnant and postpartum women.

Mountain Valley taught me patience and compassion for myself. I don’t have to have everything figured out. I learned that pain was temporary and my anxiety was about control. I learned a lot of patience in the process and trusting that things would work out.”

What do you hope your future looks like?

“I just hope it’s peaceful. I want to have a peaceful life and help people. Today I’m in a very loving and supportive partnership, and I live on my own, which I never thought I’d want to do. I’m also the closest I’ve ever been with my parents and family.

Now that I’m 26, when I say I want peace I mean it, and I don’t want things that won’t bring me peace. Mountain Valley was the first sliver of peace I’ve had in my life and that’s only expanded.”

MOVING MOUNTAINS

Resources

Staff Spotlight: Dara Spezial

The Incredible Brain 

A relatively new addition to the Mountain Valley Team, Dara Spezial, MS, OTR/L, serves as milieu clinician. She uses her extensive background as an occupational therapist to help residents rebuild routines, strengthen self-efficacy, and reconnect with the activities that bring purpose and grounding. The Massachusetts College for Pharmacy and Health Science recently recognized Dara’s passion for teaching with the Outstanding Fieldwork Educator Award, honoring her for work with students at local colleges in New Hampshire and Massachusetts. We caught up with Dara to learn more about her work on Mountain Valley’s growing OT team.

Tell us about your background?

“I knew I wanted to be an occupational therapist pretty early on. I actually did OT myself as a kid because I had a really hard time learning to walk and talk. It was kind of a passion by proxy, learning so much early on in my youth. I ended up at Ithaca College in New York and met Camille Wrege, who was in my same year. She’s my best friend and was my maid of honor at my wedding. We both fell in love with mental health and had a passion for it. We ran a mindfulness club in college which was great, but I didn’t know how to integrate OT into mental health as a career. It was always in the back of my brain.

I ended up working in geriatrics and the work is very fast, which is awesome. For the past six or seven years I’ve been in nursing homes and hospitals, assisted living facilities and homes, doing home care, inpatient, and outpatient work. It’s been fortunate that my employers have seen my passion for the field and they’ve expanded my job opportunities to include fieldwork education with students. I recently received the Outstanding Fieldwork Educator Award for my work with students at local colleges in New Hampshire and Massachusetts. I truly love teaching and educating about occupational therapy.”

Dara Spezial

How did you end up at Mountain Valley?

“I burned out at my previous job. It had massive productivity standards and was very focused on the bottom line. In June I quit and decided to look at what I could do next. I got my ergonomics certification and did some contracting on the side. My husband and I also bought a house after we fell in love with the Upper Valley.

I contacted Camille and said ‘Hey, I know you love your job. Is there any way I could come for a day and see what it’s all about?’ I got to come in and shadow and I fell fully in love with Mountain Valley. This is what I went to school for—this is why I want to be an OT. The team has been outstanding and allowed me to have incredible opportunities so quickly in my milieu clinician role. It’s a very special place where we can have freedom in our work.”

Tell us about how your work complements that of the other occupational therapists, Camille and Renee?

“It’s incredible that we have four occupational therapists, including executive director Zack Schafer, when it previously was just Camille and Zack. Camille was doing groups and individual sessions, and it was getting wild as the program expanded. She just needed a hand, so Renee came in and they realized that residents needed individual OT sessions every week. Therapy and OT complement each other so much.

At almost the same time, the former milieu support specialist Kelsey decided to leave for an incredible opportunity at the VA. Mountain Valley needed someone to lead groups, and I jumped in. They also needed someone in the milieu to help with those smaller OT things like if someone’s in actively in a compulsion, I can support them through an occupational therapy lens. I get to educate other residential staff and be that person a lot of the time to get everyone on the same page with what’s happening in our OT work.”

What’s your favorite part about working with the residents at Mountain Valley?

“Their brains are incredible. I’m also kind of a neuro nerd, and I would see a lot of neuro plasticity in the pediatric population I loved early on. When I was in the geriatric work, I had a lot of patients with dementia—that side is fascinating but it’s repetitive work with the same interventions, because the research shows that’s most effective.

Every day is so different here, I love that feeling of the unexpected. I can pivot when I’m working with residents. This worked yesterday but didn’t today. You can see the wheels turning and the light turn on in front of you. It’s incredible, and that feeling is why I got into the health profession. I love helping them grow and learn, and I get to facilitate that every day.”

Tell us about your work with OT modules?

“I lead three to four modules in a week, which often focus on exposures for our residents. For example, the other week we had two residents with contamination anxiety plunge their hands into the dirt while we planted seeds in a gardening module, and everyone was cheering. It was so cool to see them sit with the discomfort and actively do some response prevention while they also engaged with the earth.

With OT groups, I try to match the ERP schedule, but I put more of an OT spin on things. Yesterday residents learned about the four different communication styles, and we did a fun activity where we had them draw pictures on their partner’s backs. It’s nonverbal communication but you can still clearly communicate. The residents loved it and it spun off into a massive game of telephone.

On Friday I lead creative expression, which is really where I encourage them to find that flow state and enjoy some art. Make it free and find some joy while also maybe working on a contamination exposure around paint, for example.”

Where do you see yourself in five years?

“Definitely still at Mountain Valley. I would love to take on more leadership roles, whatever it looks like in the future. I can see where we’re headed and it’s such a beautiful picture—I want to be a part of it.”

What do you like to do for fun in your free time?

“My schedule is really nice because I work 7:30-3 pm, whereas at my previous job I was working 12-hour shifts. Now that my husband and I have a home, I get to garden and we’re revamping our backyard. We live right next to a lake, and we love kayaking in warmer weather. I’m also looking forward to checking out the local trails!”