Visions Journal

A family’s journey through the mental health system

Caroline and Roy

Reprinted from the Involuntary Treatment: Tensions and choices issue of Visions Journal, 2025, 21 (2), pp. 21-22

When our son Robert was in his third year of university, he called us to say he'd been hospitalized. He was certified, admitted to a mental health ward involuntarily. Robert soon requested a review of that involuntary status and won.

He returned to his classes, but he still wasn't doing well, so we took him to a different hospital. Even though there was no diagnosis yet, they kept him in seclusion. He stayed in seclusion until we got him transferred to yet another facility—in his fourth week. He was just 23.

That was just the start of Robert's story. He has a schizophrenic disorder, with a bipolar affective disorder. He has lived with quality of life and worked for years. But probably every four or five years, Robert will alter his meds and end up getting sick.

Since that first treatment, it's hard to get him to go to hospital. He's afraid he'll be put into seclusion, which definitely does harm. Too often, isolation has been used not just for safety, but as a form of punishment—and Robert has experienced this many times, even until recently.

Robert is now 48. Over the years, we've seen the system change. As a family, we used to have supports and a treatment plan. Now, much less.

Shorter stays

The system seems more focused on numbers. During involuntary stays, once they get our son to a certain level with medication, he's discharged. It feels like they care more about moving patients out quickly than supporting long-term recovery. That can be very risky when you’re dealing with people who are still ill. You're playing with their lives.

Robert was eventually placed on extended leave provision. That's a clause under the Mental Health Act that's supposed to allow re-entry into the community while still getting care. We were told Robert could be re-admitted easily. But when he relapsed within days, the hospital said they no longer had his records. We had to go through the ER and triage to get him help. It felt like they wanted us to do their job.

We've also seen lost referrals, bad communication and lack of continuity in care. At one facility, Robert had five different psychiatrists in three weeks. In another, a doctor pushed for electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) even though Robert refused and the diagnosis didn’t fit with that treatment.

Family input

Involuntary treatment is difficult to deal with. The power is in the hands of a doctor—one who might not be connected to the family. Families are often ignored. You can feel like a nobody, or get attitude from caregivers even when it isn’t warranted. There’ve been lots of tears over the years.

That's not to say we haven’t had some fantastic people. But, for involuntary treatment, Robert has had to go to different places several times—to bigger centres. We have to travel five, six hours. They used to have no problem with us staying as visitors the whole day. Recently, we're only allowed one-hour visits, and occasionally we’ve been denied that time outright. We couldn't believe it.

At one meeting, Robert's psychiatrist flat out asked us, with our son present, if Robert could return home. That's an enormous amount of responsibility to put on a family. We're not trained. But how do you look your son in the eye and say, "you're not welcome home?" We felt pressured to accept him back, even though he wasn't well enough for that. Where else was he to go? Why weren’t we asked what we thought would be helpful?

Stigma

The media's portrayal of mental illness also reinforces harmful stereotypes. When something bad happens, why do the media always say "a person with mental illness" was involved. They don't say "a person with diabetes" or "a person with cancer." It makes people think that people with mental illness are dangerous—they're not.

A stable place 

Robert now has a spot in a duplex through a housing program that helps people become more independent. A case worker comes in to make sure Robert is taking his meds and there’s counselling if he needs help. He can stay up to two years. He moved in voluntarily to get the help. We think he should be commended for that.

We visit every few weeks, talk on the phone, but we try not to dote. We always try to treat him like an adult who can make his own choices. We’re also aging, and we’ve told him he needs to work on his own health because we’re not going to be around forever. 

Changing involuntary treatment

The system is far from perfect. But if it weren't for involuntary treatment, Robert may not have had any care at all. We don't know where he would be, or if he would still be alive. There's a tension between Robert having his rights removed for periods with mandated treatment, in the hope of healing, and a better life. That's the reality we'll live with for the rest of our days.

We do want to see improvements. When patients consent, families should be included in care planning and communication. Especially when families are already involved in the person’s circle of care. As well, complaints by patients should be reviewed by panels independent of the health system—people without ties to the hospitals or health authorities.

We also think patients need consistent providers and follow-up, especially after discharge. And there should be support in smaller rural communities. More resources are needed outside major urban centres.

We can only capture so much of our decades of experience with the mental health system in this article. The journey has been long, complicated and often painful, but also filled with moments of resilience and hard-won stability.

Our advice to other families is simple: advocate, advocate, advocate. You have the right to ask about the policies, and you have to speak up to get your loved one proper care.