CEUs With a Purpose

Mental health needs in Oklahoma have reached a critical point.

According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, the number of Oklahomans who have died by suicide has increased 45% since 2009, placing Oklahoma 8th highest in the nation. Currently, one person in Oklahoma dies by suicide approximately every 11 hours, according to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention.

In addition, Oklahoma ranks #2 in the nation for individuals diagnosed with any form of mental illness.

At the same time, the demand for both public and private mental health services far exceeds the capacity of the current treatment system. This gap has grown even wider in recent years due to increased public awareness of mental health concerns and the availability of effective treatments.

Despite this progress, access remains limited.

Because of chronic underfunding, the Oklahoma Department of Mental Health and Substance Abuse Services is often only able to provide care for lower-income individuals once they are already in crisis.

Help is needed long before people reach that point.

Many hardworking members of our community are struggling quietly.

They may be our neighbors, nurses, teachers, and caregivers—people experiencing milder but persistent symptoms of depression, anxiety, trauma, or relationship distress. Without early intervention, these struggles can quietly spiral into crisis, affecting not only individuals, but entire families.

Prevention matters. Early support saves lives.

Pier 34 Foundation exists to help fill this gap.

We do this by:

Maintaining a network of mental health professionals selected for the highest ethical and professional standards

Providing access to care before crisis occurs
 

Engaging in ongoing fundraising to help reimburse mental health services for those who otherwise could not afford care
 

Our mission is simple: to ensure people are seen, heard, and supported before they are overwhelmed.

The term “little brother” can bring up memories of sibling rivalry, broken toys, and tattling. It can also summon images of forts, mud pies, and a person who knows you better than you know yourself.

Rob was my little brother—and all of those memories live in his name.

Rob passed away at the age of 34 after a long battle with bipolar disorder. He was found one summer afternoon in his apartment, as if napping. I will never know why.

For 14 years, Rob struggled. And yet, with therapy and medication, he had begun to experience an improved quality of life. That help should have come much sooner.

My grief was consuming. At times, I missed him so deeply I could hardly breathe. I had thought of myself as his safe harbor—the place he could turn when he was sad, sick, or afraid. What I eventually realized was that I had not only lost my best friend, but my pier on the water as well.

As a therapist, I became increasingly exasperated by the lack of accessible mental health resources for people who were not just “cases,” but human beings deserving of care.

One morning, I approached my office mate. We talked. We argued. Mostly, I pitched ideas while he explained why they wouldn’t work. Months later, we landed on a model we could stand behind.

Then I reached out to Susie, someone I had known and trusted for years. The three of us met for lunch one afternoon and committed to this journey together.

A commitment to build a pier for our community.
For those deserving of being seen.
Of being heard.
Of becoming whole.