The Town and the Struggle

In the heart of Western Colorado, nestled among rugged hills and wide-open plains, lies a small town where life moves at a slower pace. It’s a place where neighbors know each other by name, where the horizon stretches far and wide, and where the sunsets are as breathtaking as they are predictable. The town may not have much in terms of economic opportunity—70% of its families rely on supplemental income, and the jobs that do exist often involve long commutes to nearby cities—but it has a sense of community that’s hard to find elsewhere. The landscape is dotted with modest homes, weathered trailers, and a single gas station that serves as the town’s hub. It’s a place where people look out for one another, where they take pride in their Western roots, and where they face their struggles with quiet resilience.

For Claire, this town had always been home. It’s where she had grown up, where she was raising her two children, and where she was now fighting to keep her family together. Claire’s love for her children was fierce, a deep-rooted emotion that drove her every decision. But love alone wasn’t enough to protect her from the storm that had engulfed her life.

Mia, her once joyful and creative 11-year-old daughter, had become a source of chaos. With the complex emotional changes of growing up compounded with wanting to stand-out in a small town, Mia started acting out. The young girl’s shouts and shoves had replaced the laughter that once filled their home. Mia’s rebellion was relentless—she had even chased Claire with a knife and was caught bringing stolen alcohol and vapes to her elementary school. The property damage alone had taken Claire’s home from a place she was proud of, to a series of repair projects she could never manage. Worse still, the tension was suffocating her son, who had started hiding in cabinets whenever Mia lashed out. He was just seven years old, but already burdened with the trauma of watching his family fall apart.

Claire had always put on a brave face for her children, but inside, she felt like she was drowning. Her phone had become her lifeline, a way to escape the overwhelming chaos. She spent hours scrolling mindlessly, trying to block out the noise, the fighting, the fear. But deep down, she knew this was only making things worse. Her attention was elsewhere when Mia needed her most, and her son, too young to understand, was left to fend for himself in the crossfire. It was her son who ended up calling the police when Mia threatened her family, out of fear for his and his mother’s safety.

When DHS and the local diversion program became involved, Claire knew she was on the brink of losing everything. The threat of Mia being taken away loomed large, and the possibility of her son being removed too was terrifyingly real. Claire had lost before, but she couldn’t lose again. She couldn’t bear the thought of her children growing up without her, of them thinking she didn’t care enough to fight for them.

Then, just as things seemed their darkest, Errin pulled into the family’s dusty driveway. Savio’s MST therapist was younger than Claire had expected, with a calm demeanor that belied the gravity of the situation. Errin didn’t come in with judgment or blame—she came with understanding, and more importantly, with confidence and hope.

“I’m here to help you, Claire,” Errin had said on their first meeting, her voice steady and reassuring. “We’re going to get through this together. You’re not alone in this.” Claire was desperate enough to allow her to believe that might be true.

The Struggle for Control

The first few weeks were a battleground. Mia’s behavior didn’t magically improve with Errin’s arrival. If anything, it seemed to get worse. Mia was furious when Claire, guided by Errin, began to set boundaries. When Claire took away the vape pens Mia had been sneaking into school, the confrontation was explosive, fueled by Mia’s longing to be seen as “cool” and important among her classmates.

“You can’t do this to me!” Mia screamed, her face contorted with rage. “I hate you!”

Claire’s hands shook as she stood her ground, her heart breaking at the venom in her daughter’s voice. But she didn’t back down. “I love you too much to let you hurt yourself,” she managed to say, echoing the words she and Errin had rehearsed together. “This is for your own good.”

Mia stormed off, slamming her bedroom door so hard it rattled the walls, but Claire didn’t follow. She sat at the kitchen table, hands trembling, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. It was one of the hardest things she had ever done, but Errin had been there, a steadying presence, assuring her she was doing the right thing.

“Mia’s testing you because she needs to see that you mean what you say,” Errin had explained during one of their sessions. “She’s seeking connection, Claire. But she also needs to know that you’re in control, that you’re the one setting the rules.”

Errin’s words resonated deeply with Claire. She realized that she had been so consumed by her fear of losing her children that she wasn’t being the parents he wanted to be. Errin helped her see that setting boundaries wasn’t about pushing Mia away—it was about bringing her closer, about showing her that she was loved enough to be protected.

But the battle for control wasn’t just with Mia—it was also within Claire herself. Her phone had become a crutch, a way to disconnect from the overwhelming responsibilities of motherhood. Errin gently pushed Claire to put the phone down, to be present with her children.

“Mia’s acting out because she’s seeking connection, and that connection is crucial for her mental health. By being present, you’re not just setting boundaries—you’re helping her feel secure and loved, which are the foundations of good mental health,” Errin explained to her. “Show them that they have your full attention. It’s going to make a world of difference.”

At first, it was harder than Claire had imagined. The phone had become a habit, an escape from the chaos around her. But slowly, she began to put it aside during meals, during homework time, and during those quiet moments when Mia or her son needed her attention. She could see the change almost immediately. Mia’s outbursts began to lessen, and there were moments—fleeting but real— when Claire saw glimpses of the daughter she used to know.

The Fire and the Fear

Just as things seemed to be improving, disaster struck. It was a scorching afternoon when the shed caught fire. Claire was inside folding laundry when she heard the neighbor’s shouts. Rushing outside, she saw the flames licking at the wooden structure, thick black smoke curling into the sky.

“What happened?” she cried, grabbing the garden hose and trying to douse the flames, but it was too late. The shed was engulfed, and her son stood nearby, tears streaming down his face.

“I didn’t mean to, Mom!” he sobbed. “I just wanted to see what would happen!”

By the time the fire department arrived, the shed was reduced to a smoldering pile of ash, and the surrounding trees were scorched. Claire’s heart sank as she realized the implications. DHS had already been closely monitoring her family, and now this?

The next morning, DHS was at her door, talking about removing her son from the home. Claire felt the world closing in on her, the fear of losing her children once again becoming all too real.

But Errin was there, calm and collected. “We can fix this, Claire,” she said, her voice filled with quiet confidence. “We just need to create a safety plan. We’ll remove all the hazards—matches, lighters—and improve supervision. We’ll show DHS that you’re doing everything you can to keep your kids safe.”

Errin also saw the opportunity to remind Claire of the drivers to the family’s behavioral health challenges, “This isn’t just about preventing another fire, Claire. It’s about creating an environment where everyone feels safe and supported. That’s how we address the underlying issues and ensure that these problems don’t resurface.”

Errin’s words were like a lifeline. Together, they spent hours crafting a detailed safety plan, going through every step to ensure nothing was overlooked. Errin guided Claire through the process, helping her see that she wasn’t helpless, that she had the power to protect her children.

When DHS returned to review the plan, they were impressed. They saw the effort Claire had put in, the changes she had made, and they agreed to let her keep her son. It was a victory, but it was also a turning point for Claire. For the first time, she realized that she had the strength to change things, that she wasn’t just a victim of circumstance.

“Mia and your son need you to be strong, Claire,” Errin had said. “And you’ve shown them that you are. You’re doing great.”

Building a Future

With the fire incident behind them, Claire focused on rebuilding the trust and connection between her and Mia. She continued to set boundaries, enforce rules, and most importantly, give Mia the attention and love she needed.

Errin’s presence was still a guiding force, though she made sure to let Claire take the lead. “You’re the one making this happen, Claire,” Errin would say during their sessions. “You’re the one who’s showing your children what it means to be strong, to be loved.”

Mia’s behavior began to improve noticeably. The boundaries that Claire set, combined with the attention and connection she was now giving Mia, were making a difference. There were still tough days, but there were also days filled with laughter and light, days where Mia would sit down with Claire, who had limited literacy, and help her with reading and writing, just as she had done during their court appearances.

“I remember seeing her read those documents to you in court,” Errin recalled during one of their sessions. “She wasn’t doing it out of obligation, Claire. She was doing it because she wanted to help you. That’s the kind of relationship you’re building now.”

Mia’s grades improved, and she was able to finish 5th grade on a high note, something Claire had once thought impossible. The school, which had once been a source of tension, became a place of support. The vice principal, who had been skeptical at first, started working closely with Errin and Claire, helping Mia stay on track with regular backpack checks and ensuring she stayed on school grounds.

As the months passed, Mia’s transformation became more and more evident. She joined the softball team and found herself surrounded by positive friends she could connect with. The creative spark that had once defined her returned, and she began drawing again, filling sketchbooks with images of the world as she saw it—complex, beautiful, and full of possibility. She finally felt seen, both by her family and by the parts of her searching for joy.

But it wasn’t just Mia who had changed. Claire had grown, too. She was more confident, more sure of herself as a mother. She had learned to set expectations and enforce them, to trust her instincts and believe in her ability to guide her children.

One day, as they sat together in the garden they had planted, Mia turned to her mother and said, “I’m happy, Mom. I’m really happy.”

Claire felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. It had been so long since she had heard those words from her daughter. “I’m happy too, Mia,” she replied, her voice thick with emotion. “We’ve come so far.”

Moving Forward

The time came for Errin to close the case. It had been six months—longer than the typical MST program—but Claire wasn’t ready to let go. She had grown to rely on Errin’s steady presence, her unwavering belief that they could overcome anything.

“What you’ve done isn’t just about changing Mia’s behaviors, Claire,” Errin explained during one of their final sessions. “It’s about addressing mental health through a family lens. When we focus on strengthening the family, we’re not just solving the problem at hand—we’re creating a foundation for lasting mental health and well-being. The support system you’ve built here, the connection you’ve reestablished with Mia, the security and change you’ve made possible for her brother, and the confidence you’ve gained are what will sustain this progress long after I’m gone.”

Claire nodded, trying to hold back the tears. She knew Errin was right, but that didn’t make it any easier to say goodbye. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything.”

DHS and the local diversion program, who had been closely monitoring the family throughout the intervention, were thrilled with the progress Claire and her children had made. The family had experienced no new incidents since the MST program began, and Mia’s behavioral improvements had exceeded their expectations. They felt confident that Claire was now fully equipped to manage her household without further intervention or mental health support. For the first time, Claire felt the weight of DHS’s presence lift, replaced with a sense of accomplishment and hope.

A few weeks later, Errin received a text message from Claire. “We’re doing great,” the message read. “Thank you for helping us get here.” Attached was a photo of Mia and her brother, smiling on their first days of middle school and kindergarten.