Estimated reading time: 3 minutes
Discover the voices of lived experience and get access to resources, information, tips, and tools to support your mental health.
UVic Student Mental Health Blog
https://onlineacademiccommunity.uvic.ca/studentmentalhealth/
Dedicated to promoting positive mental health and reducing stigma. UVic students share their personal stories and tips for maintaining wellness. Learn ways to increase your happiness and wellbeing and decrease your stress as you navigate life as a student.
Mind your mind
Mindyourmind exists in the space where mental health, wellness, engagement and technology meet. We work with young people aged 14 to 29 to co-create interactive tools and innovative resources to build capacity and resilience.
Youth Smart
CMHA Calgary’s YouthSMART (Youth Supporting Mental Health and Resiliency Together) integrates collaborative, youth-initiated mental health learning opportunities in local junior and senior high schools.
Generation Mental Health
https://www.generationmentalhealth.org/blog
GenMH is improving the future for those living with mental ill-health through capacity building and
empowering youth with lived experience.
The Student Minds Blog
https://www.studentmindsblog.co.uk/p/explore-blog.html
Students and recent graduates sharing personal experiences with specific mental health difficulties, the actions they are taking to create change and how to tackle different challenges at university and navigate university and graduate life
Black Mental Health Canada
https://blackmentalhealth.ca/fr/blog/
Black Mental Health Canada (BMHC), est un organisme bénévole, sans but lucratif, basé sur la communauté, qui a été fondé en 2019 pour aider à répondre aux besoins en matière de santé mentale des diverses communautés noires du Canada.
Active Minds
https://www.activeminds.org/blog/
Through education, research, advocacy, and a focus on young adults ages 14–25, Active Minds is opening up the conversation about mental health and creating lasting change in the way mental health is talked about, cared for, and valued in the United States.
Francophone mental health blogs
Mindspace
https://www.mindspacewellbeing.com/fr/blogue/
Chez Mindspace, nous pensons que tout le monde gagne à entraîner son esprit, que ce soit pour améliorer sa santé mentale, améliorer son bien-être ou atteindre des objectifs de rendement élevés.
Black Mental Health Canada
https://blackmentalhealth.ca/fr/blog/
Black Mental Health Canada (BMHC), est un organisme bénévole, sans but lucratif, basé sur la communauté, qui a été fondé en 2019 pour aider à répondre aux besoins en matière de santé mentale des diverses communautés noires du Canada.
L’apogée
Nous avons créé un blogue dans le but d’informer, de démystifier et de sensibiliser différents sujets en lien avec la santé mentale.
Mouvement Santé Mentale Québec
https://mouvementsmq.ca/blogue/
Nous sommes le seul regroupement québécois d’organismes communautaires voué spécifiquement à la promotion et la prévention en santé mentale. Nous voulons outiller la population du Québec pour qu’elle développe et renforce sa santé mentale et pour en faire un projet collectif et social.
Mouvement Santé Mentale Québec Rive-Sud
https://www.smqrivesud.ca/blogue
La mission de Santé mentale Québec Rive-Sud est de promouvoir le bien-être des individus et de les aider à prévenir, rétablir et maintenir une bonne santé mentale par la réalisation d’activités de soutien auprès de toute la population.
Estimated reading time: 5 minutes
It seems I’m always trying to forge belonging, or fielding a gulf between myself and the community I grew up with. I feel deeply disconnected from my childhood friends and peers, cultural background, and family. My home base.
My roots.
This past year, I had a plan. I would return to school, find a job, and “settle down.” I would make myself belong.
I guess the way of the world doesn’t cow to our carefully calculated plans. I couldn’t find a job, and I decided to embrace the ether. I began to feel more like myself than I have in a long time.
Growing up was strange
I never felt at home, least of all with my family and our uncompromising codes of hard work and morality, the shame in mediocrity. My parents often said I don’t share their values, which although true, made me feel like more of a pariah in my own home. My parents worked harder than I’ve ever had to, locking down stability to support themselves, their parents, siblings and eventually our family.
I’ve never had to worry about those things because it was all done for me, out of devotion from parents who didn’t know me yet. Still, why am I so different? My siblings share similar goals as our parents and greater community. Why am I the way I am despite sharing DNA?
DNA isn’t the only thing that binds people. I grew up in the small microcosm that is the Pakistani community in Ottawa, which is emblematic of other Pakistani communities throughout the diaspora. We seek professions in stereotypical fields like science and engineering. Even law was considered too soft in my mom’s time (the 70s), and she opted for medicine instead.
I do have academic accomplishments that I am proud of, but it’s not enough. I went to college, I did liberal arts. I blog and draw as a side-hustle. I take photos for a living.
There’s always been something missing inside of me that alienates me from my community. I lack that desire to hunker down, sacrifice my time and freedom for a rewarding profession. Both of my parents had their own aspirations that were hacked at the heart by their parents. My dad was sent to Canada at 17 so he wouldn’t join the Pakistani air force, and my mom is a writer at heart, but her dreams have taken a backseat for decades as she fulfilled her parents’ dreams instead.
Why am I so selfish?
When I graduated from university I resolved that I was done studying for some elusive career on the horizon. Before long the realities of life crept unto me, and I felt the pressure. At some blurry point in time, I became obsessed with mirroring those around me, and felt inadequate because I hadn’t been seeking “more.”
The clarity that I once had about my life grew hazy, and soon it was entirely obscured by the desire to be someone I’m just not. I returned to school last fall to land myself a job that would render me established in the bubble that enclosed me and my world.
The truth is that I grew up surrounded by people I don’t fit in with, and I’ve always tried to mould myself into someone that does. I’ve tried to bury shame and un-belonging by forcing myself to exist harmoniously inside that bubble. Only recently I’ve realised that all this does is trap myself in a perpetual cycle of discomfort and alienation.
Sacred moments in nature
So, I reverted back to old habits. Jobless and jaded, I drove around Ontario for a few weeks. I followed the Group of Seven route from Toronto to Thunder Bay, retracing the hundred-and-some year old steps of the legendary Canadian artists’ along the highway, stopping at creeks and waterfalls and vistas that inspired the paintings that line the walls of Canadian galleries.
Nature has a profound effect on me. Taking in the sights surrounding me is almost transcendental. There’s nothing sacred about these moments, yet to me they are powerful moments in time that are intensely grounding. I sit on a rock mid-river, watching the water swirl around my feet, transfixed. I come to a sudden stop as a big brown owl swoops low over my car on a winding country road in broad daylight. A thousand kilometres away from home I stare into the blending of blues between Lake Superior and the sky as my rickety SUV teeters up the hills on the edge of Ontario.
My vision sharpened as I drove, the endless unfolding of scenery filling my cup which had been dry for so long I hadn’t even realised I was choking on the dregs. That clarity began to return.
I know a lot of the shame I feel is self-inflicted. Comparing yourself to others, while insidious, is a pretty human thing to do. I want my core circle to know that I can fit, even if the raw truth of it is that I don’t even want to. Letting go of the need to prove something to others is harder than I thought. I don’t want to cower anymore, haunted by shame, steeping in self-hatred. I want to grow and be the person I’m supposed to be.
It’s myself I need to win over, I see that now. And it’s hard to do when I stay rooted to a place that doesn’t nourish me, but deflates me as I am faced with displays of happiness that have never resonated with me.
So, this is what they mean when they say happiness is a choice. Spread your wings. Don’t be afraid of growth. Follow your heart. All those tacky cliches have been pretty meaningless to me until now, when I finally have enough perspective to understand them.
Either choice will bring hardship and happiness, but I owe it to myself to see my own dreams through.
Author: Aishah Khan
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Putting substance use on a spectrum creates a space for more open conversations about safer, healthier, more manageable consumption.
Part of the Mental Health Commission of Canada’s work involves education on the distinction between mental health and mental illness. Mental health — an aspect of overall health — exists on a spectrum we all share. One end of the spectrum reflects optimal mental health, while the other shows where mental illness or mental health problems occur. A spectrum model is also helpful when we talk about substance use.
What it means
Toward one end of the substance use health spectrum, a person might abstain entirely or engage in sporadic use without any adverse consequences. At the other end are substance use disorders with far-reaching effects on overall health and well-being. Depending on the circumstances and a multitude of factors, anyone can move along the spectrum at any time.
Why it matters
Due in part to a long history of criminalization and secrecy around drugs and alcohol, a negative undertone persists. This way of thinking may lead people to see all substance use as problematic. On the other hand, putting substance use on a sliding scale helps create a space for more open conversations about safer, healthier, more manageable consumption — whatever that looks like for each individual.
Reducing stigma around substance use is also an important part of fostering recovery. The less negatively we judge substance use, the more comfortable a person might be about disclosing a concern about their own or someone else’s situation. For someone struggling with substance use, understanding that they can achieve safer, healthier consumption without (or before) complete abstention can help instil hope when they need it most.
How you can use it
Adopting the term substance use health can challenge personal biases and binary thinking. Substance use isn’t black and white. It’s not about being addicted or abstaining entirely. There’s a wide, grey area of movement, nuance, and individual circumstances in between. As with all mental health, the way we think and talk about substance use matters. The better we understand the substance use health spectrum, the better we can support people through every stage of recovery.
Amber St. Louis
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What makes a funeral great? The good, the bad, and the gaudy of saying goodbye.
Perhaps it’s a sign of age, but I find myself at more funerals lately — and I’ve started to rate them. No, I’m not evaluating how much money was spent on the spread, flowers, casket, or urn. Let’s be honest, whether you had it catered or cajoled your friends into helping, egg salad sandwiches are egg salad sandwiches. I’ve never attended a funeral for the food. The thing I’m rating is whether the event gives me and those closest to the departed the opportunity to grieve.
I’m not looking for a maudlin affair, nor am I trying to make myself sadder. I just want to feel like I can say goodbye and perhaps learn a thing or two about the person who passed.
I expect funerals to be as diverse as the dead. Some are formal affairs with participants sharing whispered conversation in church pews. Others are more casual gatherings held in a pub while images of the departed run in a loop meant to recall happier times. Still others change locations, churches, gravesides, or pubs as the rituals of death are played out according to the desires of the departed or those left behind.
Ire and brimstone
I don’t have a preference, really. The activity just needs to do what it should to help people grieve. What doesn’t impress me is when things unrelated to the process of saying goodbye take centre stage. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve showed up for a funeral service only to find myself in the middle of sales pitch on the benefits of going to church. (The word “eternal” is used a lot.)
Don’t get me wrong. We’re a captive audience and I can see the appeal of making such an appeal. I also have no objections to a religious service. But I am repulsed when the official takes the opportunity to dominate the moment, make a political pitch, heap guilt on the unfaithful, chastise the living for their lack of attendance or, in one instance, silence family members who wanted to say a few words of farewell.
Low scores also happen when the business of funerals becomes too apparent. A good example is when the officiant hasn’t taken the time to learn the name of the departed and either mispronounces or forgets it all together. Those are jarring experiences that pull mourners out of the moment and force them to consider the transactional nature of the event.
Sometimes, of course, things go horribly wrong, like when the dearly departed gets misplaced or the wrong body is cremated. In one funeral I heard about, instead of the usual photos of the loved one running in the background, mourners were accidentally shown four minutes of porn. Give that funeral a zero.
An out-of-the-box affair
If I’m being fair, the failure is not always the down to the officials. Quite often, the mourners or attendees make the event one to remember for all the wrong reasons. I’ve yet to take a selfie at a funeral, but apparently that’s an increasingly popular activity. Then there are the brawlers and catcallers who see the funeral as a great place to start a fight or settle a score, because who doesn’t go to a funeral to catch a boxing match — the end point in some decades-long petty pileup of grievances between estranged family members?
In China, exotic dancers at funerals became so problematic that some cities had to intervene. If you’re wondering how this came about, it’s based on the idea that large crowds at funerals are a sign of good luck for the deceased in the afterlife. So, to draw more people, some organizers started to bring in dancers. Since children also attend these funerals, the whole thing is just hard to justify.
Sometimes I want to ask if they could take that somewhere else or save it for after the funeral. Unlike weddings, there is no dress rehearsal. That means people are often emotionally raw, numb, or overwhelmed. Grief is also very personal and has different outlets for different people. Some cry, some don’t. Some yell, and some sink into themselves. People grieve for a few weeks, months, or years, and different cultures, personalities, loved ones, or stages in life will also affect how and how long we grieve.
No matter what your grief “tenure” is, the funeral is often the start, and it’s frequently where people remind themselves of their social safety net. While a 2022 mixed methods review of the effect funeral practices have on bereaved relatives’ mental health and bereavement outcomes was inconclusive, qualitative research provides additional insight: the benefit of after-death rituals, including funerals, depends on the ability of the bereaved to shape those rituals and say goodbye in a way that is meaningful for them. Findings also highlight the important role of funeral officiants during the pandemic.
Funerals can be a tangible way to show support for the living. They may provide companionship during a difficult time and can be a fundamental part of how we mourn. But they should help us to process the loss and actualize a person’s death. If the thing I’m discussing as I drive away is the officiant’s fail or the fight out front, then the funeral is a flop. I don’t go for dinner and a show. I’m not trying to be converted. I go to get and give support.
Debra Yearwood
Illustration: Holly Craib
Estimated reading time: 3 minutes
Physical activity is not just beneficial for maintaining a healthy body, but also for improving mental health. In fact, research shows that exercise is one of the most effective tools to manage mental health issues like anxiety and depression. Even modest levels of physical activity or low-intensity exercise are beneficial.
Key benefits of physical activity for mental health:
Reduces stress and anxiety
Physical activity is a natural stress reliever. When you exercise, your body releases endorphins, which are feel-good chemicals that help reduce stress and anxiety. Regular exercise can also help reduce the levels of cortisol, the hormone that is released during stress. By reducing cortisol levels, exercise can help calm the mind and reduce feelings of anxiety.
Improves mood
Exercise can improve mood almost immediately by increasing the production of serotonin and dopamine, two chemicals in the brain that are associated with feelings of happiness and well-being. Regular exercise can also help reduce feelings of fatigue and improve energy levels, which can have a positive impact on mood.
Boosts self-esteem
Regular physical activity can help improve self-esteem and self-confidence. When you exercise, you are setting goals and achieving them, which can give you a sense of accomplishment and pride. Exercise can also help improve body image, which can lead to a more positive self-image.
Enhances cognitive function
Exercise has been shown to improve cognitive function, including memory, attention, and processing speed. Exercise increases blood flow to the brain, which helps supply oxygen and nutrients to the brain cells. Regular exercise can also increase the production of brain-derived neurotrophic factor (BDNF), a protein that is important for the growth and maintenance of brain cells.
Reduces symptoms of depression
Regular exercise has been shown to be as effective as medication for treating mild to moderate depression. Exercise increases the production of endorphins and serotonin, which can help improve mood and reduce feelings of depression. Engaging in exercise can also help increase social interaction, and reduce feelings of isolation which can have a positive impact on mental health.
Physical activity is an important aspect of maintaining good mental health. Regular exercise can help reduce stress and anxiety, improve mood, boost self-esteem, enhance cognitive function, and reduce symptoms of depression. Also, exercise is less costly and is free of the negative side effects that are common in drug therapies. So, whether it’s a daily walk, a yoga class, or even just moving more, incorporating physical activity into your routine can have a positive impact on your mental health.
Author: Caelie Townsend
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We ask practitioners for a reality check on the TV series about therapy, grief, and getting by.
With season one of the popular series wrapping soon, we’ve been following along as the main character Jimmy (Jason Segel) — in all his human fallibility — crosses boundaries with his clients, tries to process his grief, and leans on his fellow therapists, Gaby (Jessica Williams) and Paul (Harrison Ford), as they stumble through life’s ups, downs, and sideways trajectories. How does it end? Is everyone fully self-actualized? Does this kind of stuff happen in real life? We surveyed a few experts to get their take.
The three principal characters often debrief with each other after managing challenging client situations — a kind of rapport-building that happens in many workplaces. In this instance, it seems like the therapists have therapists. Is this a regular dynamic?
In short, absolutely. As a consultant, being in community is necessary to the human healing process.
A lot of therapists have naturally been drawn to this work because, just like our clients, we too are actively riding the ebbs and flows of the human experience: the joys and the pains. Part of what serves the authenticity of the therapeutic relationship is your therapist’s ability to hold space for all of you — both the pleasant and unpleasant experiences.
The truth is, it’s very difficult to hold space and support clients in compassionately witnessing their emotional injuries if we haven’t been willing to do the same for ourselves. This must be an embodied practice, a lifestyle that encourages our clients to show up for themselves while we actively engage in practices that also support us as practitioners. Doing that helps us develop and strengthen our emotional boundaries and promote safety, so that by taking care of our “stuff” it doesn’t interrupt or intrude on our client’s process.
This dynamic was often shown in different scenes with Jimmy, who “presented” as frustrated with his client’s pace of change. As the show progresses, we learn that he has been “numbing” (or shutting down) his emotions since the loss of his wife while struggling to connect with his grief.
Sara Smith is a registered psychotherapist with the Live Free Black Therapist Collective.
As a therapist, having a space where you are supported in seeing the most vulnerable parts of yourself allows you to show up for your clients as a human with lived experience who is ready and willing to walk alongside them on their healing journey.
I regularly access support from my peers and connect with my own therapist. An accessible connection with other colleagues while supporting clients who face challenges is integral to how we as therapists compassionately care for ourselves and others, including other therapists. When Jimmy lost his connection to Paul after a conflict, he really struggled.
In truth, I think this is a metaphor for life. We need each other, and we thrive when we have access to deep and meaningful connections with others where we can be seen, heard, and accepted. Viewing these interactions on screen was an important reminder of that.
Sara Smith is a registered psychotherapist with the Live Free Black Therapist Collective based in Toronto. She specializes in supporting adults in working through the far-reaching impacts of trauma on the mind and body. Sara’s approach is rooted in building embodied awareness, education, empowerment, and validating your experiences while working together to develop effective coping strategies to support your healing journey.
Those are nice offices with Architectural Digest-level ambitions and calming neutral tones. Are your offices that nice? What makes for a good therapeutic environment?
The offices that are depicted in Shrinking are very spacious and nicely decorated in neutral colours. The style they show is one school of thought for therapy offices: a blank canvas that leaves space for the client to think and imagine.
It is similar to the therapy offices shown in The Falcon and Winter Soldier, which is supposed to be a neutral space where the hand of the therapist is not seen at all. The goal of this style is to not reveal anything about the therapist to the client. In this case, the therapist is supposed to be a neutral party, almost not a person in the eyes of the client — they are a therapist, not a person in their own right.
While plenty of therapists follow such design choices — and might even go so far as to take off personal jewelry, such as a wedding ring or a “Best Dad” tie clip — others do the opposite. These therapists choose to show their style in how they decorate. They might stick up posters of favourite movies or show off collectible items. The idea here is to be a human to your clients and be on a journey with them.
This is the decor style I personally use. My goal is to have my clients know a bit about who I am when they look around the office and to start considering whether they’ll get along with me.
It will be interesting to see if Jimmy starts to change up the decor of his office to reflect his more open approach with his clients. Paul is very stoic and distant from those he works with, and keeping out personal elements makes sense for him. Gaby seems to be in the middle. Her overall office decor is quite neutral, although she has several personal touches that make it more hers than what we find with either Paul or Jimmy. Perhaps these changes will be shown in season two.
Dr. Megan Connell is a board-certified licenced psychologist, practising virtually in more than twenty states. She lives in Charlotte, North Carolina, is an avid geek and gamer, and is passionate about teaching others how to use role-playing games such as Dungeons & Dragons in therapy. Watch for her forthcoming book: Tabletop Role-Playing Therapy: A Guide for the Clinician Game Master (Norton, March 2023).
Compassion fatigue seems to be a through-line for each story. How do you manage this in your own life?
The show highlights our humanness and how we tend to put therapists on the “all knowing” pedestal. I remain aware that I am human, too. I’m not a guru and, with humility, I’m mindful of my own tendencies toward self-proclaimed pedestals. I guide as best I can and (frequently) remind myself that I can’t control the outcomes.
I have my own team of professionals and friends that I can debrief with and be in care of my own mental, physical, and emotional health. I’m also in tune with the times I need support, and I’m careful not to judge myself for sometimes feeling less-than. On the show, we witness Paul’s challenges in accepting support from his daughter, and this reminds us that sometimes the helper needs the help.
Boundaries are key, and we see this with Paul many times. When he says he’s not going to do something, there is no waffling or justifying. He knows his limits and honours them.
I have my own go-to’s when I find myself feeling overwhelmed, including routines. Like Liz (played by Christa Miller), who collects and polishes stones as a form of meditation, I blast calming music in my house and stare out the window at the beauty of nature, and this helps ground me. In the shower, I will visualize all the thoughts that don’t serve me going down the drain as the water runs off my body.
Choosing to eat what I like to call feel-good foods is another — blueberries are a favourite. They nurture my health (body and mind) and are full of vitamin C to help with stress.
Having a good laugh, even at myself — not taking myself so seriously — and letting my hair down puts things in perspective and reminds me of the beauty of what we call life.
Author: Yvette Murray lives in Tiny Beaches on Georgian Bay, which she considers her sanctuary. She believes that being surrounded by nature does wonders for her mental health. Yvette is the author of The Mental Health Contagion: Navigating Yourself Through a Loved One’s Mental Well-Being Decline (forthcoming). She is a mental health advocate, influencer, and keynote speaker; a psychotherapist; and a facilitator for the MHCC’s Mental Health First Aid (MHFA) virtual certification program. MHFA is available for those who are supporting adults, youth, and/or older adults. It trains participants on how to recognize a loved one’s mental health problem, have that conversation, and get the best help.
Inset: Sara Smith is a registered psychotherapist with the Live Free Black Therapist Collective.
Estimated reading time: 5 minutes
Supporting healing for veterans navigating the transition to post-service life
NANCY
The door creaked open and invited me in. I wrote that line in November 2022, while facilitating a Writers Collective of Canada (WCC) workshop, as part of the Healing Unseen Wounds: Her Story* series for woman-identified people who served in the Canadian military.
WCC** is a charitable organization that inspires exploratory writing in community. The unique workshop methodology invites participants to share first-draft writing, practice deep listening, and offer feedback to others about what resonates in their first drafts.
I first heard about the Her Story series months earlier when WCC’s Co-Executive Director, Shelley Lepp, requested a meeting seeking guidance in developing a program. I happily offered my insight based on lived experience as a former military Sea King helicopter air navigator turned author/academic studying gender and military.
At the end of the call, Shelley said, “Let me know if you’re interested in becoming a facilitator with us.” I smiled while thinking, “Wonderful workshop idea – I wish you the best – but not for me. No way.”
As a military member, I learned to lock out my emotions.
As an academic, I learned to revere publication.
As a fiction author, I learned to edit, edit, edit before sharing even a word of writing.
WCC was about to profoundly change my thinking and my practices.
___________
SHELLEY
After my meeting with Nancy Taber, I knew she would be invaluable to the development of our program. Her thoughtfulness, insights, and lived experience also made her an ideal candidate to train as a WCC facilitator. Engaging those with lived experience in both the design and implementation of our programs is integral to all WCC workshops. In this case I knew it would be especially critical in connecting with military personnel given the nature of the community, barriers of rank, and reluctance towards vulnerability. I wanted nothing more than to convince Nancy of the value in our program.
For many veterans and service members, mental health after discharge is a challenge and creates a barrier to meaningful engagement with family and community. Engaging trained non-clinicians and alternative supports, such as arts-based interventions, provide options for those without access to or interest in clinical interventions. While not a replacement for therapy and other traditional mental-health supports, an arts-based approach like the one WCC offers can be more accessible and appealing for many in need.
WCC writing workshops have an added benefit of being conducted in a group setting, which addresses some of the isolation that frequently accompanies mental health challenges. The Healing Unseen Wounds: Her Story workshop series offered participants a place to find voice alongside resilience and hope; a place where stories could be unlocked and community formed.
—-
NANCY
Shelley’s warmth and energy, paired with my participation in WCC’s facilitation training, unlocked my hesitancy around being a WCC facilitator for members of my community of lived experience.
In WCC workshops, facilitators also act as participants, writing in response to prompts, reading their work, and giving feedback to others. I knew that, if I committed to facilitating, I had to embrace the entire method, including demonstrating vulnerability, letting go of any particular outcome, and sharing raw writing.
And I did.
What I found was that WCC’s unique workshop method offers a structure and protection that allowed me a feeling of freedom. The voluntary sharing of stories with a commitment to confidentiality led to meaningful moments of connection, understanding, and support. Participants held space for each other, writing and listening to stories of joy, pain, humour, regret, and pride. We nodded, smiled, laughed, and cried when someone wrote of being a woman-identified person in a military context. I felt seen and heard.
The promise that all writing was considered fiction meant I could write anything I wanted about a character and their emotions—not about me and mine—which meant, ironically, I could pour myself into the story. I felt no need to filter experiences or feelings. I let it all out on the page.
My writing improved because I could throw myself into the process without worrying about the outcome. And it was fun! Even writing about difficult experiences, even crying, was oddly fun. I could be creative and playful or gloomy and serious, sometimes all at once.
Now, I work to bring everything I’ve learned in WCC workshops into my life: write in a search for connection and community, lean into my experiences and emotions, find joy in expressive writing, and look for the good in every person. I don’t always succeed in all of this, but I’m trying.
When I wrote, “The door creaked open”, perhaps I was speaking of myself.
Authors:
Nancy Taber (she/her) – Professor, Adult Education Program Director, Brock University, & Co-Director, Transforming Military Cultures Network
Shelley Lepp (she/her) – Co-Executive Director, Writers Collective of Canada
*Healing Unseen Wounds: Her Story was generously funded by True Patriot Love Military Creative Arts Initiative
**WCC was established in 2012 with one workshop at Toronto’s toughest shelter but has grown to nurture a network of nearly 300 trained volunteer facilitators and 130 partner agencies nationwide with a focus on those underserved and under-heard. Visit our website for more information.
*** WCC’s workshops for veterans were established with the support of the Mental Health Commission of Canada’s SPARK program with a specific lens on veterans and military families navigating the transition to post-service life.
Author: Mental Health Commission
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The shift away from saying “committing suicide” goes beyond semantics.
This article is part of the Catalyst series called Language Matters.
Outdated language has a way of sneaking up on you. Sometimes it’s egregious — like a racial slur, for instance. Other times, it’s more subtle — like an expression you suddenly realize you haven’t heard for a while. For many people, the language around suicide is likely to fall into the second category.
Until a few years ago, it was common to hear that someone “committed” suicide after taking their life. The expression was pervasive across all forms of media and in everyday conversation. Then, the paradigm started to shift. More and more people, from health-care workers to journalists to people with lived and living experience of mental illness, adopted “died by suicide” as the better alternative.
What’s the difference?
The third edition of the Mindset media guide for reporting on mental health offers one of the best rationales behind the change: “Don’t say a person ‘committed suicide.’ This outdated expression, linking suicide with illegality or moral failing, can make it harder for others to seek help, or for families to recover.”
The term “commit” is most often associated with some sort of crime. For example, we still regularly hear that someone “committed murder” following a homicide, or “committed fraud” after a scam. These expressions imply a disregard for the rules of law and moral or ethical standards while casting judgment on the actions taken.
When talking about a suicide, such implications have no place. Suicide is preventable with the right interventions. But if admitting thoughts of suicide feels like confessing a crime, it’s not hard to imagine why someone might hesitate to reach out for support. When you factor in the feelings of low self-worth and hopelessness that often accompany suicidal ideation, the stakes involved in the language we choose are raised even higher.
Then there are those left behind. Following a suicide, it’s estimated that 135 people are affected by the loss, with 7 to 10 being significantly impacted. So outdated language can further complicate the grieving process by adding undue stigma.
By contrast, saying or writing that someone “died by suicide” helps reframe the death as a loss rather than a crime. It’s an opportunity to replace condemnation with compassion, and swap stigma for support.
For someone struggling — with their own thoughts of suicide or the death of a loved one — that can mean the difference between staying silent and speaking up.
New hope on the horizon
By the end of 2023, Canada is set to launch a three-digit suicide prevention number. When someone dials or texts 988 from anywhere in Canada, they’ll be connected to a free mental health crisis or suicide prevention service. Experts say this nationwide number can not only reduce the stigma associated with reaching out for help, it will also save people the time it would take to remember or search for a crisis number. When it comes to preventing suicide, every second counts.
Did you know?
- It may not be obvious that someone is thinking about suicide. Learning the warning signs can be helpful for knowing how and when to offer appropriate support.
- Asking someone if they are contemplating suicide will not make it more likely. In fact, showing concern can be a helpful way to establish social connection and promote hope in the moment.
- Removing or limiting access to things like firearms and prescription medications is often enough to prevent suicide. This kind of means restriction is effective in preventing suicide, as many people won’t seek out alternatives.
Resources
If you or someone you know is in immediate danger, call 911.
- Talk Suicide Canada: 1-833-456-4566 (or text 45645 from 4 p.m. to midnight ET)
- For Quebec residents: 1-866-APPELLE (277-3553) (or text 535353, 24-7)
- Kids Help Phone: 1-800-668-6868 or text CONNECT to 686868
- Hope for Wellness Helpline for Indigenous peoples: 1-855-242-3310 (24-7)
- Trans Lifeline: 1-877-330-6366
- Canadian Association for Suicide Prevention
Amber St. Louis
Estimated reading time: 3 minutes
Imagine, if you will, that you woke up one day and your life was completely unrecognizable. It could happen, for so many reasons, good and bad. What then? Do you fall apart or keep going? Or do you re-imagine what’s possible?
Letting go of the familiar
A serious illness has changed my life. I can no longer do many of the things I love to do. To adapt I have had to change how I live. I can still walk but not very far. The new snowshoes I bought are now in storage. I look out the window and dream of the times when I could grab my gear and go for a hike. I remember the feeling of living in the moment. Exercise and working out have become impossible. Most days I do not have the strength to do a load of laundry. Going to meet a friend for coffee is a small miracle because I never know how I will be feeling day to day. A minor errand is a major undertaking. I struggle to do the simple things you take for granted.
My life does not resemble my life anymore. Losing access to what’s important to my well-being has affected me in a way that is difficult to describe. The words loss and grief seem completely inadequate to describe how it feels. What is the right word for the theft of joy? How do you describe the sense of disbelief? How do you express what it’s like to ask yourself, what if I never get my life back? Am I disabled? People living with chronic illness or disability will understand the nuances of this question.
The hinterland of otherness
I am learning about navigating this new space between known and unknown, this hinterland of otherness. But I have learned that I am not alone. 22% of Canadians have a disability, and I suspect the number of people who are now experiencing disability is growing exponentially.
I have discovered a new community of thousands of people just like me. Reluctant explorers of this hinterland, sometimes we are seen but often we are invisible. Exploring the boundaries of a new terrain, I don’t recognize the landscape. New frontiers. New directions. We don the pith helmet of the archeologist and dig through the layers, the vestiges, the remains of past and enduring fortifications. Like pioneers, we pan for gold, a golden vision of a better future.
Happy wanderers, turn back
There are signposts on this journey, but I’m still looking for the map. This is no happy wandering. This is no Insta-moment, no mini-break holiday. This is not for the faint of heart. It is a long, arduous journey, and we are in it for the long haul.
Sometimes I dream of a long dark tunnel. Faint beams of light peek through tiny cracks. There’s not enough light to see the way forward, but just enough to stop me from becoming paralyzed by the dark. We travellers of the hinterland know a thing or two about long nights of the soul. We know about getting lost for awhile and suddenly finding our way, and even trailblazing on our better days. We don’t tiptoe through the tulips; we tiptoe through minefields. We don’t shout from the rooftops, look at me! Carefully and quietly, we share our journey with our clans – our living experience, the prickly, stinging moments, the setbacks, and the small victories. It takes courage to bare your soul.
Maybe one day I might meet you on this path, although I advise you to go in another direction. But if I do, I promise I will wave, slow down, give you a hug and point you toward the next marker down the road. Intrepid traveller. Brave heart. I see you. I wish you well.
Author: Ainsley Huard
