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It’s time to reframe masculinity — one step at a time
Beyoncé and Kendrick were crooning about America’s problems as our truck wound its way toward the trail. My husband, in the driver’s seat, was his usual jovial self as he chatted about music aligning with historical movements. It was 6:30 a.m. My husband is disgustingly and unabashedly a morning person, and we were on our way to an eight km hike along the Gatineau escarpment in Quebec.
Our son — who is in no way a morning person, or a hiker — was in the back seat. He was in charge of the music, and he was there to win a bet.
Despite my more taciturn demeanour, I was happy to be heading out that morning for the anticipated hike. It was the dynamic brewing between father and son that had me feeling cautious. Men can be weird and competitive, even when they’re trying to be chill.
Macho, Macho Man
The machismo started in the parking lot when my son stepped out of the truck wearing a sweater and holding his coffee.
“Leave your sweater and coffee here,” my husband said, which prompted my son to slip on his mutinous face and grip both his coffee cup and his sweater with determination.
Before the world’s dumbest argument over knitwear and a travel mug could unfurl, I said to my husband, “You’re not carrying it or wearing it, so stop trying to control it.” To my son, I added, “It’s going to be hot, and there will be bugs — are you sure you want to bring those?”
I started the hike in the lead spot to avoid the inevitable male jockeying for the alpha position. This is one of the reasons I think men are weird. Why does it matter who goes first? It’s not a race. There are no prizes. Societal norms do men no favours when they inspire them to be dominant.
My son has no idea which direction we are taking, and yet he edges forward to take the lead. My husband, who regularly encourages me to go first when it’s just the two of us, suddenly wants to set the pace. The scene makes me think it’s no small wonder that men’s mental health is in the state it is. How can you seek help when you are convinced you should have all the answers?
Yes, I know, not all men are the same. But the statistics weigh heavily and are unignorable.
In Canada, 12 people die by suicide every day — with Statistics Canada reporting up to 4,500 annually — and men’s suicide rates are three times as high as women’s.
According to research by the Mental Health Commission of Canada, compared to men in the general population, Indigenous men exhibit higher rates of suicidal behaviour, including suicidal ideation, attempt(s), and death. Suicide attempts are 10 times as high among male Inuit youth, compared to non-Indigenous male youth, and compared to heterosexual men, sexual minority men (such as those who identify as gay, bisexual, or queer) are up to six times as likely to experience suicidal ideation.
Boys don’t cry
My husband is brilliant in many ways — including being low-key when big things are happening to him — but I’m starting to wonder if this stoicism by him and our male friends is a mask for bottling emotions, something men are socialized to do. Health issues? It’ll go away on its own. Business problems? No big deal. Family woes? Don’t go there.
When you give it any thought at all, the statistics should come as no surprise. Men living in environments where they are expected to uphold norms such as strength, toughness, and self-reliance can feed into negative beliefs about mental health. Men who adhere strongly to these norms may find it more difficult to recognize signs of mental illness in themselves and others and be less likely to access mental health support.
Reframing “masculinity” to allow greater expression and recognition of emotion and help seeking is a good first step.
A new generation is getting this lesson at Eskasoni First Nation on Cape Breton Island. GuysWork, a Nova Scotia program that started in 2012, bills itself as “a safe space to address masculine toxicity.” It does so by having male facilitators talk with groups of adolescent boys about different issues — things like health care, mental health resources, intimate partner violence, and keys to healthy relationships. Elsewhere, NextGenMen’s Cards of Masculinity box set presents 50 bold questions on topics like objectification and hook-up culture to facilitate meaningful discussions about boys’ beliefs and behaviours.
These organizations are working to change the narrative of outdated masculinity that leaves men feeling isolated, unable to express their emotions, and reluctant to seek help when they need it.
Such collective efforts help de-stigmatize mental illness among men, enhance the quality of health-care provider relationships, and open new pathways for building better personal relationships.
Programs that allow for “shoulder-to-shoulder” action-oriented tasks (think camping, sports, art, auto mechanics), rather than face-to-face talk-focused therapy may help get the conversation going.
Moving forward
Back on the trail, my husband points to the preferred path up a rocky incline. My son, of course, takes an alternate and more complex route. Nope, no obvious symbolism there.
We dragged him out of bed to hit the trail because we were getting worried — he needs to do more to get his physical and mental well-being in order. So, my husband bet him he couldn’t get up early enough to join us.
My husband used to run to keep in shape, but after a series of health issues took running off the table, I started to worry about him. I suspect he did so as well. Then we discovered that, while he could no longer run, he could hike — and the world shifted. Running in the neighbourhood was good, but hiking in the forest was transformational.
Even better, hiking is something my husband and I could do together. Some of our best and most rewarding conversations have happened on the trail. We’ve tackled work problems while admiring wild trilliums and resolved deeply personal issues while glimpsing white-tailed deer. Talking things through is good for us; it makes us reflect more.
As we approach the trail’s end two hours later, my son is in the lead. His sweater is around his waist, his coffee mug is full, and we’re all smiling.
Resource: Men’s Mental Health and Suicide in Canada — Key Takeaways
Further reading: Weaving Through the Challenges: The ABCs of Finding Paths to ACB Mental Health Care
This resource was published in 2023. The data may be out of date.
Estimated reading time: 4 minutes
July is disability pride month.
This means a great deal to me because, for the first time in my life, I am disabled. I developed a debilitating and chronic post-viral condition after contracting COVID-19. My life has changed dramatically and has become, well, unrecognizable to me. I used to hike, walk, and dance. Go out and meet friends. Travel. Now I use a walker. I have a disabled parking sticker. I struggle to do a lot of things that I used to do.
And I am not the only one.
In Canada, 1 in 5 people have at least 1 disability.
That’s 6.2 million people.
In fact, you probably know someone who is living with a disability or chronic illness.
Did you know:
- Persons with disabilities had an average annual income of about $11,000 less (in 2019) than persons without disabilities.
- Persons with disabilities have higher costs that limit their ability to save for the future.
- Working-age persons with disabilities are twice as likely as their peers without disabilities to be in poverty.
- 59% of persons with disabilities are employed compared to 80% of persons without disabilities.
- 50% of persons with disabilities reported experiencing barriers that limit their ability to move around public buildings and spaces.
See more data from Stats Can
Disability is a tricky word. According to the dictionary, disability is:
- lack of adequate power, strength, or physical or mental ability; incapacity.
- a physical or mental handicap, especially one that hinders or prevents a person from performing tasks of daily living, carrying out work or household responsibilities, or engaging in leisure and social activities.
- anything that disables or puts one at a disadvantage.
To me, all these definitions signify less than or a deficiency, weakness, and incapacity. These definitions are not helpful and are not altogether accurate. They tell only part of the story. And they tell it from an ableist perspective.
What is ableism?
“Ableism is the discrimination of and social prejudice against people with disabilities based on the belief that typical abilities are superior. At its heart, ableism is rooted in the assumption that disabled people require ‘fixing’ and defines people by their disability.”
Discrimination, exclusion, and ableism add up to many challenges and barriers for people living with a disability, contributing to:
- negative perceptions about what a person with a disability is able to do
- buildings, workplaces, and work tools that are not accessible
- systemic barriers like rules and practices that exclude and discriminate
Living with a disabling chronic illness
“Why are you fine one day and not another, they ask. I am, in fact, not fine one day. One day my symptoms are manageable, and I am functional, and on other days, they are not, and I am not.”
“On days when I have not slept well, doing simple tasks (getting up, showering, eating) takes up all my energy. I do the best I can and simply do fewer things when my energy is low. On good days, I have enough energy to do one or two tasks. For example, if I am to prepare a meal, that is the only thing I will do that day because, by the end, I’m exhausted. Simple things like phone conversations sap my energy.”
“I’ve lost friends because they didn’t understand that I have limited energy, and so I would have to cancel plans. I don’t look sick, so it’s hard for people to understand. On the other hand, I am now more careful about who is in my friend group. The people who are in my circle of friends are understanding even though many don’t experience chronic pain.”
“Although chronic pain is part of my living experience, it does not define my life. Pain, whether physical or emotional, is a real issue that needs to be acknowledged. The fact that pain is invisible does not make it any less real for those who experience it. Compassion and a willingness to listen and learn from people living with pain will go a long way.”
“Things people say to me:
- You don’t look sick
- Everybody gets tired
- You should get out more
- You’re just depressed
- You need a more positive attitude
Unfortunately, I’ve experienced this denial of my experience quite often.”
What you can do
Whether you live with a disability or not, everyone has a responsibility to promote equity, diversity, and inclusivity of all people.
It starts with some basic principles:
- Accessibility and living barrier-free is a human right.
- Everyone should have an opportunity to participate and contribute.
If you agree with these principles, there are things you can do. You have taken the first step of becoming an ally simply by paying attention. If you would like to take the next step:
- Learn about the lived experience of people living with disability.
- Familiarize yourself with the issues.
- Raise awareness of accessibility by talking about it.
- Stand up for the principles of equity, inclusion, and social justice.
Resources
Council of Canadians with Disabilities
Author: Nicole Chevrier
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If it’s just not working, then don’t ghost. Name your needs.
In a famous episode of the popular TV series Curb Your Enthusiasm, Larry David, the curmudgeonly main “character” (said to be an exaggerated version of himself), decides he must end therapy after seeing his middle-aged psychiatrist at the beach in a thong. When he announces his intention to leave, the psychiatrist seems surprised by the decision and keeps pressing Larry to tell him why it’s over. Larry keeps hedging, then ungracefully bolts.
In reality, the question of why and how to end therapy — to “break up” with your therapist — is for most more complicated than this scenario suggests. Ideally, the decision to move on is mutual, anticipated, and planned. If your therapist is a good fit, and you’ve developed a trusting relationship, you’ll both probably know when it makes sense to do so. It’s also likely that you’ll be able to discuss it openly: you’re feeling better; you’ve worked together toward gaining insights on the challenges that brought you into therapy, you’ve grappled with grieving, worked to improve or let go of toxic relationships, begun to heal from trauma, etc. Now, you both sense that you have the tools and understanding to deal with situations that trigger anxiety or other issues. You’ve grown, your therapist has genuinely helped you, and with respect and goodwill on both sides, the time to part has come.
But what if you and your therapist are not such a good fit? They’re just not “getting” you, and it seems unlikely that you’ll feel better any time soon. While the most frequent advice is to “shop around,” in practice it can be hard to tell your story — in all its intimate, painful details — multiple times to different strangers. That kind of reluctance can tempt you to stick with the therapist you’ve been working with, despite your reservations.
At this point, it’s all too easy to rationalize your way back into familiar territory. Maybe you’re relying on community or employee services, where choices are more affordable. Maybe you have trouble asserting yourself. Maybe you don’t want to say something that might hurt your therapist’s feelings or invite some kind of judgment. While each of these reasons might be valid, continuing on when you’re not fully invested will be an unfortunate waste of time for you both.
Take “Jean,” for instance, a woman in her 60s who sought therapy when she found herself stuck getting over the death of a pet. Her online therapist, a woman in her 30s, seemed to pigeonhole Jean as a lonely empty nester who needed to get out more. “Yet I’m not lonely,” says Jean, a creative spirit who is happily married, sees her grown children often, and enjoys a wide circle of friends. “She was very nice, but she was off about who I am.” Jean felt stereotyped, but being conflict-avoidant, didn’t know how to convey it. She ended up leaving after completing several sessions and didn’t seek out another therapist. Eventually, she moved past her grief on her own, without the external help and insight she had been looking for. Jean still wonders if, with the right therapist, the process might not have taken so long or been so painful.
So, though it may not be easy, if you’re dissatisfied for any reason, you owe it to yourself and your therapist to communicate your feelings and end the therapeutic relationship.
Starting well
Of course, incompatibility can be avoided by finding a good fit from the beginning. Many therapists detail their specialties and training in online biographies, which makes it easier to narrow the field and choose someone with expertise in what you’re experiencing — someone who has a good chance of understanding and appreciating who you are and what you need.
According to Lindsey Thomson, a registered psychotherapist based in Kanata, Ontario, and public affairs director for the Canadian Counselling and Psychotherapy Association, with 13,000 members across the country, as you go through this process “it’s important to be truthful about your preferences. Let’s say you’re a woman who wants to work on your experience of a past trauma that makes you uncomfortable talking with a man. Or maybe you’re part of a marginalized community and feel more comfortable with someone who shares the same cultural background. If you have preferences like that,” she says, “you need to find someone who meets them.” Many therapists, including Thomson, offer a 30-minute complimentary session to help potential clients test the waters and see if the fit is good for both people.
Also essential is understanding what type of therapy the counsellor is offering and what their overall philosophy is. As Thomson points out, studies suggest that what matters most is the dynamic between client and therapist. “This is a working relationship we’re dealing with,” she says, “you know, human to human. If something comes up that you don’t agree with, or if you don’t like the way the therapist has framed something — or you were challenged, and you weren’t ready for it — bring that up. It’s really important. Yes, it can be uncomfortable. But just know that all therapists want to know what’s going on for you in that process.”
Definitely don’t “ghost”!
While therapeutic situations differ, says Thomson, clients will average between 12 and 20 sessions, particularly with goal-oriented models like cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT).
“Let’s say I’m a client in therapy with generalized anxiety, and I’ve had 10 sessions. I’ve noticed a decrease because I’ve been working on some behaviour changes to help reduce it. At that point, the therapist can do a progress check on my initial goals and see how I’ve been doing with practising those skills — whether it’s behaviour changes, regulating emotions, or challenging an automatic negative thought to let it go and move on. Do I feel confident that I can maintain that without the therapist’s support?” For the therapist in this situation, says Thomson, rather than a complete termination, “maybe we switch the frequency of sessions. I typically see clients every two weeks. So why don’t we try seeing each other once a month for what we call maintenance-type therapy? If the skill implementation isn’t going so well, then we can go back to where we left off.”
At every stage of the process, the key to success is being comfortable communicating your feelings. You’re there to gain insight and develop the skills to grow, heal, and cope. Your therapist should be in your corner all the way.
If they do or say something truly unprofessional, and the organization they are registered with has a code of ethics and disciplinary measures, you can make a complaint. Check the laws and regulations in your province or territory to determine how to proceed in this kind of situation.
Resource: Fact Sheet: Common Mental Health Myths and Misconceptions.
Further reading: Weaving Through the Challenges: The ABCs of Finding an ACB Therapist
Moira Farr
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A friend of mine is struggling with her mental health. Something happened recently that sent her life into a tailspin, and she is having trouble coping. She can’t stop crying and is barely eating and sleeping. She has lived with depression for a long time, and it’s been manageable, but now she is at an all-time low. I’m worried about her. I’ve been talking to her about it, and I suggested she get some help from a therapist, but she isn’t ready. “I’ll just find a way to get through it on my own,” she says. Sound familiar?
I know firsthand that it can be tough to recognize when you need help. Years ago, when I was going through a major life crisis, it took me too long to ask for help. Later, I could see that I should have reached out to someone sooner. Why is it so hard to ask for help with our mental health? Would it surprise you to know that 60% of people with a mental health problem don’t seek help?
The power of stigma
That’s the power of stigma. I was worried about what people would think. The shame of admitting to myself that I was having a problem was so paralyzing that it kept me from getting help. I became filled with self-doubt. I started to lose trust in myself. Was I going to become one of ‘those people’? My imagination went wild with images of dismal institutions with bars on the windows and shock therapy.
The world influences our beliefs
Where did I get these ideas? We can call it cultural conditioning. We have been influenced to think of mental illness as frightening and debilitating and to see people who are dealing with mental health problems as unstable, violent, or dangerous. The media plays a big part in perpetuating the harmful stereotypes of mental illness. Mass media, television, and film have been shaping our ideas for a long time about what mental health and mental illness look like. The villains in the movies are so often characterizations of a person with a mental health condition. There are countless depictions of people with a diagnosis of schizophrenia portrayed as violent, unstable, and dangerous. These are not accurate or fair representations.
Just as media needs to be viewed with a critical eye, we should check our own assumptions about mental health and mental illness. We can inform ourselves about the facts, and we can learn how to be better allies to others.
5 Ways you can help
Everyone has a role to play in creating an inclusive community. Here are 5 ways you can help:
- Get the facts. Educate yourself about mental illness and share with family, friends, work colleagues, and classmates.
- Get to know people with personal experiences of mental illness so you learn to see them for the person they are rather than their illness.
- Be aware of your attitudes and behaviour. Choose your words carefully. Avoid stigmatizing people by seeing the person first and not labelling them by their mental illness.
- Challenge myths and stereotypes. You can help challenge stigma by speaking up when you hear people around you make negative or wrong comments about mental illness.
- Treat everyone with dignity and respect. Offer support and encouragement.
Where to find help
All those years ago, I wish help had been easier to find. Things have changed! If you or someone you care about might need some support, there are many options now. Here are some suggestions:
Wellness Together Canada (2020-2024)
To connect with a mental health professional one-on-one:
- call 1-888-668-6810 or text WELLNESS to 686868 for youth
- call 1-866-585-0445 or text WELLNESS to 741741 for adults
Kids Help Phone
Call 1-800-668-6868 (toll-free) or text CONNECT to 686868. Available 24 hours a day, 7 days a week to Canadians aged 5 to 29 who want confidential and anonymous care from trained responders.
Visit the Kids Help Phone website for online chat support or to access online resources for children and youth.
Mental Health Services across Canada
Find a Canadian Mental Health Association in your area
Hope for Wellness Help Line: 1-855-242-3310
Offers immediate mental health counselling and crisis intervention to all Indigenous peoples across Canada. Phone and chat counselling is available in English, French, Cree, Ojibway and Inuktitut.
Author: Nicole Chevrier
An avid writer and photographer. A first-time author, she recently published her first children’s book to help children who are experiencing bullying. When she isn’t at her desk, Nicole loves to spend her time doing yoga and meditation, ballroom dancing, hiking, and celebrating nature with photography. She is a collector of sunset moments.
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The Future Ready Initiative’s community-helping-community model supports people to strive and thrive.
Amina (not her real name), a young mother of four, faced serious challenges when she separated from her husband. Although she had lived in Canada for more than 10 years, she was isolated in her home, and the fear and stress of suddenly finding herself on her own were overwhelming. She urgently needed psychological counselling and help with learning English, doing her banking, buying groceries, and navigating the city’s public transport. “It is such a humbling and inspiring story,” says Ramzia Ashrafi, clinical practice team lead for Future Ready Initiative (FRI), which has supported hundreds newcomers across Canada since its inception two years ago.
The Future Ready team connected Amina with mentors, both professionals and volunteers (also called “family navigators”) who recognized her situation as an emergency and fast-tracked the help she needed. Within weeks, she had received counselling from a practitioner who specializes in helping immigrants and refugees. “After eight or nine months she was very comfortable expressing herself in English, and with no additional support, found a house and a job that allowed her to financially sustain herself and her children,” says Ashrafi.
Amina’s is one of many success stories to emerge from the initiative, which has multiple programs targeting youth, families, and seniors in need of support with mental health, education, settlement, and employment. “It’s the community helping the community build resiliency,” says Aleem Punja, national operations officer at Future Ready Initiative, whose stated core values are “individual agency, dignity, and equity.”
Not surprisingly, the number of people in need of their support has increased significantly since the pandemic hit three years ago.
“It has not been easy,” says Punja, “but we are doing our best.” FRI is a new national organization with 24 staff members and 500 community volunteers across Canada, yet it is able to provide the range of support services so many need.
The positive energy generated by all those involved in FRI is reflected in the virtual exhibition, Journey Upstream, a moving showcase of art, photography, music, spoken word poetry, graphics, and testimonials illustrating the experiences, hopes, and dreams of those new to Canada looking to connect with others. According to the exhibition’s description, it “aims to tell the story, via different and unique perspectives, of how the Future Ready Initiative fosters hope and builds resilience, and equips families and individuals with resources that enable them to confidently overcome challenges and thrive.” The priority given to mental health support is sharply illustrated in one of the photographs: a chain-link fence adorned with three simple black and white signs — YOU MATTER, YOU ARE NOT ALONE, DON’T GIVE UP.
The multidisciplinary Future Ready Initiative mental health case management team includes social workers, nurses, and psychotherapists specially trained in crucial areas such as suicide prevention, addiction, grief, and post-traumatic stress disorder. For those fleeing war and persecution, there is a particular need to offer care “in a trauma-informed way,” says Punja. That means building partnerships with numerous sister organizations, such as ABRAR Trauma and Mental Health, that can offer timely support, virtually or in person. Whether it’s the loss of loved ones to COVID-19, pandemic-related mental and physical health issues, or disruption to income and education due to the disease, war, settlement, or political upheaval — all have had a massive social impact on individuals and families.
For some, reaching out for help still carries a stigma, says Punja. Admitting you are having trouble finding a job, paying bills, or feeding your family is stressful enough, but dealt with in isolation such problems can seem impossible to overcome. Making it easier for people to ask for and receive help means connecting with them in a way that lets them see how everyone has challenges and everyone benefits from helping others. “Maybe a cousin helps you with English, or a neighbour does your taxes,” he says. Changing the language and the dynamics between the helped and the helpers also makes the process of helping someone get back on their feet less stigmatizing. “We don’t talk about ‘poverty’ but rather ‘vulnerability.’”
It also helps to focus on goals: an individual or family may be in a tough place now, but by helping them map out a path to better times, Future Ready emphasizes people’s agency and resilience as they find their own best strategies for success.
As well, helping others be “future-ready” means focusing on community connections as vital to mental health (in addition to direct interventions like counselling and coaching). Events that bring people together, such as musical performances, art exhibitions, sports, and those tailored especially for youth, families, or seniors have been successful in integrating newcomers and helping them stay positive and optimistic despite challenges and obstacles.
FRI’s Impact Report 2022 notes a number of positive milestones for the organization. “Since its inception in 2021, FRI delivered holistic and tailored support in the areas of family mentorship, future of work, mental health, settlement excellence, and youth mentorship to over 727 individuals.” It provided 560 hours of service to people with mental health risks. This included helping individuals on long waiting lists find care from a mental health or primary care doctor and supporting family members who were worried about the mental health of a loved one. Future Ready Initiative also assisted more than 100 family navigators and mentors “to competently manage sensitive situations while avoiding burnout.”
Ali Masroor Bigzad, who emigrated with his family from Afghanistan in September 2021 and currently lives in Sherbrooke, called his submission to the Journey Upstream exhibition “Spark of Hope.” It was FRI that gave him that hope. “Upon our arrival, the FRI officer came to our place and welcomed us on behalf of the community leadership and asked if we needed anything. We were all so happy that these institutions were here, reigniting that hope in us for a better future. The staff supported our settlement in different ways. The FRI member gave me advice about the different education pathways I could take. Without him, it would have been difficult for me to seek out the right path to start my educational journey.”
FRI staff, family navigators, and mentors have every intention of carrying on with the initiative to provide hope and real service to help every member of the community thrive on their journeys.
Moira Farr
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It took me a long time to tell my Catholic parents that I am a lesbian. I remember coming home from university one Christmas with my heart in my throat. This was going to be the time. I wanted to do it over the phone so that I wouldn’t have to see their faces, so that I could hang up and cry into my pillow, but I couldn’t do that to them. So, I first sat down with my mother by the fire, over a cup of eggnog, and just…said it. “Mom, I’m a lesbian.”
It took me years to utter that simple phrase, but it would take far longer before I felt ready to “come out” about my mental illness.
Pride is a funny thing. This month, we celebrate 2SLGBTQIA+ pride, and it is a celebration of all that our community has fought so hard for and achieved, and a commemoration of how far we still need to go.
We hesitate to mention mental health and 2SLGBTQIA+ in the same breath and for very good reason – it was only in 1973 that homosexuality was finally removed as a “mental disorder” in the DSM (the “Bible” of psychiatry), but it continued to make an appearance for those “distressed by their homosexuality” until the most recent edition in 2013. Gender dysphoria continues to be a diagnosis that is even required before gender-affirming treatment is begun. The stigma around mental illness intermingles with the stigma around the 2SLGBTQIA+ community and continues to complicate the picture.
And yet we know that members of the 2SLGBTQIA+ community, particularly youth, are more susceptible to mental illness and suicide. There are a variety of complex reasons for this, but many of them come down to the breakdown of family and social supports, and the social stigma that comes with the territory of being anything but straight and/or cis-gender. Bisexual, genderqueer, and trans individuals face particular stigma even from within the 2SLGBTQIA+ community. Homelessness is a problem specifically for 2SLGBTQIA+ youth. And intersectionality plays a huge role in the marginalization of 2SLGBTQIA+ persons since white, cis-gender gays and lesbians are less likely to struggle with their mental health than the rest of their rainbow family.
The fear of mixing talk of mental illness with talk of the 2SLGBTQIA+ community is damaging for those who are struggling and are in need of support that caters to their specific needs. Sexual orientation and gender identity are integral parts of a human being that have a lot to do with that person’s mental health and are bound to play a role in any existing mental illness. Any treatment that ignores these parts of me would never have given me a good result. In my episodes of depression, my delusional guilt about my homosexuality needed to be addressed. In my mania, hypersexuality and risk-taking needed to be addressed in the context of my sexual orientation. To do otherwise simply would not have worked. I do not have a mental illness because I am a lesbian, but I am a lesbian who has a mental illness. To forget that is to do a disservice to me – and ultimately to the whole 2SLGBTQIA+ community. This is one of those areas in which we still have a ways to go.
I was lucky. My mother simply laughed. “Oh finally!” she said, “We wondered when you would tell us!” You see, it seemed that my parents had suspected for years. Relief flooded through me when she finished: “Your father and I don’t care who you love, as long as they make you happy.” (I did, however, wish they had told me this years before…it would have made the coming out so much easier!) Thanks, Mom and Dad.
Author: Jessica Ward-King
BSc, PhD, aka the StigmaCrusher, is a mental health advocate and keynote speaker with a rare blend of academic expertise and lived experience. Equipped with a doctorate in experimental psychology and firsthand knowledge of bipolar disorder, she’s both heavily educated and, as she likes to say, heavily medicated. Crazy smart, she’s been crushing mental health stigma since 2010.
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Aging without support is becoming more prevalent for older people in Canada. How can we stem the tide? A look at inclusive aging during Loneliness Awareness Week
“Why was it, she wondered, so difficult to believe that the old had been young, with the strength and the animal beauty of youth, had loved, been loved, laughed and had been full of youth’s unmeditated optimism?” — PD James —
This past winter, my neighbours found one of our older residents wandering around downstairs in the laundry room hallway of our apartment building. She appeared to be lost and confused.
We ended up calling an ambulance once it became clear that she was unwell. She had been living across from me, but I never really knew her. That day, after a brief phone assessment, the dispatcher told us it would be a four-hour wait. Since there wasn’t any food in her fridge, some of us brought snacks and made her a few cups of tea while waiting for the ambulance at her kitchen table. After learning she was 91 and living alone, we asked her about people we might call. But it took a few hours of chatting before she told us that she had no children or siblings. The one exception was a nephew who lived hundreds of kilometers away, who was surprised when we called him, saying they had not spoken in years.
The events that January day were a turning point for her, and for me. She hasn’t been back since being taken to the hospital. I don’t know what ended up happening, and I will never find out because I am not part of her family. Still, later that evening I couldn’t help wondering whether this was what the future might look like for me.
Aging and loss
Aging can bring an accumulation of losses: loved ones, social networks, physical well-being, financial security, purpose, a sense of being part of the wider world, and even a sense of personal identity. These are the kinds of significant losses that “deeply challenge people’s sense of connection to the world around them,” according to Dr. Sam Carr, principal investigator for The Loneliness Project — which qualitatively explored older people’s experiences of loneliness in depth. Many of them spoke to the researchers about how aging presents unique challenges related to loneliness and isolation. The research — now published in Ageing and Society — generated over 130 hours of conversations. One participant’s experience with losing a spouse shows the extent these losses often have: “When he was gone, I didn’t know where I fitted anymore. I didn’t know who I was anymore because I wasn’t [upset]. You just existed. Went shopping, when you needed food. I didn’t want to see people. I didn’t go anywhere.”
In an interview study of older persons’ loss of meaningful connection, researchers at Malmö University in Sweden concluded that profound loneliness in later life can be understood as if the individual “is in a process of letting go of life.” Such an experience also “involves the body, in that the older person is increasingly limited in his/her physical abilities. The older person’s long-term relationships are gradually lost, and finally the process entails the older person’s increasingly withdrawing into him- or herself and turning off the outside world.”
Getting older without kin
In Canada, aging without support is also on the rise. Sometimes called “solo agers,” an increasing number of older adults are kinless, meaning they are without a spouse or living children (or the children live far away). Others who may not be technically kinless may still be isolated. Even though most of them want to age in place, kinlessness can lead older people into long-term care. As a country that already has one of the highest kinless rates in the world, how will Canada support and care for the increasing number of people in this group?
In the U.K., the issue is connected to a larger theme: loneliness as a growing health threat. In 2018, Prime Minister Theresa May called it “one of the greatest public health challenges of our time” when she established “the world’s first ministerial lead” to tackle loneliness. Japan’s Prime Minister Yoshihide Suga followed suit in early 2021, adding a new minister of loneliness to his cabinet. Its initial appointee, Tetsushi Sakamoto, was tasked with preventing and reducing widespread loneliness, social isolation, and the increased suicide rates accelerated by COVID-19 restrictions.
Such measures are grounded in evidence about the health and mental health risks of loneliness. Research has consistently shown that low social support or increased social isolation is one of the major risk factors for depression at all ages,” according to Dr. Keith Dobson, a professor of clinical psychology at the University of Calgary. The U.S. National Institute on Aging ties loneliness and isolation with “poor aging outcomes,” including higher rates of mortality, depression and cognitive decline.
Loneliness in significant numbers also comes with an economic impact. In the U.S., a decades-long increase in loneliness has reached the point where “more than two out of three working adults consider themselves lonely” — something that costs employers about $154 billion each year due to related health problems, productivity losses, and staff turnover. In England, 45 per cent of adults experience some degree of loneliness, which, according to a 2017 New Economics Foundation report, costs U.K. employers £2.5 billion (C$4.2 billion) each year. The data paints a dire picture, especially when you consider that much of it stems from pre-pandemic research.
It’s not the same for everyone
As we might expect, the effects of loneliness and isolation don’t impact everyone equally. Charitable organizations that support older persons witness first-hand how some people bear the brunt of overlapping life challenges. According to Gregor Sneddon, executive director of Ottawa-based HelpAge Canada, we know that “as people age and experience physical and cognitive impairments, their exposure to the world shrinks, as does their exposure to other people and they ‘bear the fruit of isolation.’ Add in a global pandemic that locks people in their homes, takes away their means of participating in the community and belonging, and disconnects them from family and friends, and the result is critical health effects.” But it is definitely “worse for those with little money. . . . Those who don’t have options are the most susceptible to loneliness, which we know, can be fatal.”
Does Canada need a minister of loneliness?
CARP interim chief policy officer Bill VanGorder understands that “loneliness and isolation doesn’t only affect people who may be considered a senior.” But he’s all for having a minister of loneliness in Canada “if that’s what it takes to address the impact of isolation and loneliness on Canadians. A minister would make sure that programs are in place to ease these issues, other parts of the government would be accountable to them, and maybe, finally, we could change the way we care for older Canadians.” In societies like ours that favour independence and individualism, we tend to let people sort out and manage their own challenges. But if you are unwell, isolated, and lacking support, that’s much harder to do.
The U.K. government is taking an integrated approach to this issue, recognizing that more needs to be done and everyone must play a role. Building an effective network of connection and supports requires government involvement as well as that of friends, family, employers, voluntary and community sectors, local authorities, and public health bodies. But that’s just the start. Its loneliness strategy is guided by a framework to improve and connect social services, reimagine community spaces, transportation, housing, and technology, holistic health approaches, and public health campaigns to raise awareness and reduce stigma around loneliness. One example is the government’s 2019 Let’s Talk Loneliness campaign, which challenges this stigma by emphasizing the importance of talking about it.
The program even uses social prescribing, where community connectors, health and well-being advisers, and community navigators support non-clinical needs (including those of people who feel lonely) by connecting people to community groups and services for practical and emotional support.
While the success of the U.K.’s integrated approach is still to be evaluated, regardless of future results, its common-sense principles seem more robust than the current fragmented and disconnected supports available in Canada. While some resources and programs exist, they can be difficult to find, especially if someone is isolated and has no internet access. And yet, the premise could not be simpler: communities benefit when we support the well-being of older people and their families. The same could be said for people who live with chronic illness or disability. A truly inclusive society benefits everyone.
What does the future of inclusive and healthy aging in our country look like? Is it a society that recognizes the value of older people, and the worth and dignity of all, putting aside ableism and prejudice? I hold out hope for a new vision of supportive and inclusive aging where we “create living environments in which these mechanisms of support are embedded and integrated into [our] communities.”
Resources for people in Canada:
- HelpAge Canada
- Government of Canada Programs and Services for Seniors
- Transforming health-care, social care and community landscapes to optimize the mental health of older adults in Canada
- Better Supporting the Mental Health of Older Adults in Canada
- Summary: Guidelines for Comprehensive Mental Health Services for Older Adults in Canada
- Compendium of Good Practices for Improving Seniors Mental Health Care in Canada
- Supporting Older Adults: Using Principles and Values to Promote Best Practices
- Applying the Guidelines for Comprehensive Mental Health Services for Older Adults in Canada during COVID-19
Nicole Chevrier
Sarah is 32 years old and has two young children. She used to be a primary school teacher. Sarah loves kayaking, hiking, and running. She ran her first marathon two years after her first child was born. But she doesn’t do that anymore – not since she developed Long COVID, also known as Post-COVID condition, due to a COVID infection two years ago.
There are many things that Sarah doesn’t do anymore. She has stopped working, exercising, cooking, walking the dog, and driving. Sarah has to rely on her husband for everything. She is too ill to take care of or play with her children, and this makes her feel guilty. Most days, she has trouble getting out of bed or talking for too long. She is battling a laundry list of symptoms like dizziness, tachycardia, heart palpitations, headaches, and difficulty breathing. She spends most of her time lying down in a darkened room because too much light and noise makes her brain hurt. “I never knew it was possible to feel this sick,” she says.
Your life is cancelled until further notice
The experts call it functional impairment. People like Sarah would call it “your life as you know it is over.” You might find it surprising that a young, healthy person could be incapacitated by an illness like Long COVID. After all, a widespread misconception is that this illness only affects older people or those with underlying health conditions. Hundreds of thousands of cases are proving otherwise.
Sarah is now part of a growing group of people in Canada who are living with an invisible illness. You may not realize it, but you probably know at least one person who lives with some form of a chronic illness or disability. It’s understandable in a way – who wants to broadcast their health problems to the world? Many suffer in silence at home, invisible and ignored. But unlike some people who have well-documented, diagnosed conditions, people living with Long COVID are struggling to have their illness recognized, let alone treated. Many of them have faced gaslighting by medical professionals, who dismissed their experience, which led to long delays in diagnosis. A growing number of them are fighting to have their condition recognized by workplaces and insurance companies.
Many face a lack of understanding from family and friends. “You don’t look sick” is something they are getting used to hearing. Or people tell them, “I feel tired at the end of the day, too.” For Sarah, it’s a lot worse than feeling tired – more like being hit by a freight train – but it’s too exhausting to keep educating people about her condition. It’s disheartening to have to keep fighting to be seen, believed, and understood. Like many others living with chronic illness, Sarah ends up feeling like she has to stay silent to make people feel comfortable.
Don’t go to an empty well for water
The world is not kind to people with disabilities. In an ableist society like ours, a person’s worth is defined by their productivity and abilities. We worship youth, beauty, and health, and any talk of illness is uncomfortable, so it’s avoided. So many people are uncomfortable with grief and feel they don’t have the skills to cope. They feel anxious seeing someone in pain, and because they can’t fix it, they feel helpless and awkward. So, cracks appear in relationships, distancing creeps in, the phone stops ringing, and friends quietly withdraw without a word.
Caution – toxic positivity ahead
Despite good intentions, we often resort to toxic positivity. We tend to act as if only positive feelings are acceptable, so we tell people who are dealing with immense loss and grief to just be grateful they’re alive and to look on the bright side. Good vibes only! Just think positive, or don’t worry, be happy. People sometimes think that resilience means ignoring the bad things, but we shouldn’t be turning a blind eye to what people are going through. Sarah often feels that people want her to pretend to be okay instead of just being there with her, not to fix anything but to just acknowledge where she is.
Some people truly don’t have the capacity to be supportive. But some people can show up and walk beside those who are going through a crisis. We can acknowledge the emotional experiences of those we care about. It is one of the most helpful things we can do for others.
A few tips for providing positive support without being toxic:
Estimated reading time: 5 minutes
- Be authentic in your interactions. Encourage others to express their feelings and thoughts and to seek help if they need it. Avoid telling them to “look on the bright side.”
- Be accepting and non-judgmental of others’ feelings and experiences rather than minimizing or dismissing them. Avoid trying to fix or change their feelings. Listen to them and offer support and understanding.
- Be aware of your emotional well-being and seek professional support if needed. Avoid pushing yourself or others to be positive and recognize that it’s acceptable to have negative emotions sometimes.
Knowing how to empathize with someone in tough times is one of our most important social skills. Honing your ability to connect with others authentically will not only benefit them, but it will make your relationships better.
Author: Nicole Chevrier
Estimated reading time: 5 minutes
It can be challenging to talk about mental health with friends and loved ones, as there is often a fear of being judged or misunderstood. In this post, I will share five tips for starting a conversation with your friend about their mental health.
Why it’s important to have conversations about mental health
Before we dive into the tips, let’s take a moment to discuss why it’s important to talk about mental health. Mental health issues are incredibly common, yet they are still heavily stigmatized in our society. Those who struggle with mental health often feel isolated and alone, which can aggravate their symptoms and lead to a worsening of their condition. By having open and honest conversations about mental health, we can help break down the stigma and create a more supportive and understanding environment. But the question is, how do you know when a friend is struggling with their mental health?
The signs that someone might be struggling with their mental health
Changes in behaviour
- No longer participating in activities they once enjoyed
- Isolating themselves from friends and family, and communicating less than normal
- Change in appetite
- Sleeping more and still feeling tired
- Increased use of substances
- Changes in care of personal appearance or living space
- Being less productive at work or school
- Posting worrying messages on social media
Changes in mood
- Significant changes in mood, from very high to very low
- Overreacting to situations
- Sounding hopeless
- Feeling anxious, or worrying more
Changes in what they say to you or others
- “I hate myself.”
- “I’m messing up everything in my life.”
- “What’s the point?”
Common barriers to talking about mental health
There are many reasons why people might be hesitant to talk about mental health. Some common barriers include:
Stigma
As I mentioned earlier, mental health issues are still heavily stigmatized in our society. This can make it difficult for people to open up about their struggles, as they may fear being judged or misunderstood.
Lack of knowledge
Many people simply don’t know enough about mental health to feel comfortable discussing it. They may not know the right words to use or the best way to approach the topic.
Fear of making things worse
Some people may worry that bringing up mental health will only make things worse for their friend. They may feel like they don’t have the skills or knowledge to offer the right kind of support.
Now that we’ve talked about why it’s important to have conversations about mental health and some common barriers to doing so, let’s dive into some tips for starting the conversation.
1. Choose the right time and place
It’s important to choose a time and place where your friend feels comfortable and safe. You want to make sure they have your full attention and that there are no distractions that might make them feel uncomfortable or vulnerable. It’s also a good idea to choose a time when you both have plenty of time to talk, so you don’t feel rushed or interrupted.
2. Use open-ended questions
When you’re starting the conversation, it’s important to use open-ended questions that encourage your friend to share more about their experiences. For example, you might ask, “How have you been feeling lately?” or “Can you tell me more about what’s been going on for you?” This can help your friend feel like you’re genuinely interested in hearing about their experiences, rather than just trying to get them to open up.
3. Be non-judgmental
It’s important to approach the conversation with an open mind and a non-judgmental attitude. Your friend may be hesitant to share their experiences if they feel like they’ll be judged or criticized. Instead, try to listen actively and offer support without trying to “fix” their problems.
4. Share your own experiences
If you’ve struggled with mental health in the past, it can be helpful to share your own experiences with your friend. This can help them feel less alone and more understood. However, be careful not to make the conversation all about you – remember that the focus should be on your friend’s experiences and needs.
5. Offer ongoing support
After the conversation is over, it’s important to offer ongoing support to your friend. Let them know that you’re there for them and that you care about their well-being. Check in with them regularly and offer to help them find professional support if needed.
Starting the conversation is just the first step – it’s also important to know how to continue the conversation and offer ongoing support to your friend. Here are some tips:
Be patient
Remember that your friend may not be comfortable opening up right away. It’s important to be patient and give them space to share at their own pace.
Validate their experiences
It’s important to validate your friend’s experiences and let them know that their feelings are valid and important. This can help them feel more comfortable opening up in the future.
Help them find professional support
If your friend is struggling with mental health issues, it’s important to help them find professional support. This might mean helping them find a therapist or a support group, or even just encouraging them to talk to their doctor.
Talking about mental health can be difficult, but it’s crucial for both your own well-being and that of your loved ones. By following these five tips, you can start the conversation and offer ongoing support to your friend. Remember to approach the conversation with an open mind and a non-judgmental attitude, and to offer ongoing support even after the conversation is over. Together, we can break down the stigma surrounding mental health and create a more supportive and understanding environment for all.
Author: Nicole Chevrier
