Catalyst Newsletters Archive - Page 17 of 33 - Mental Health Commission of Canada

By Moira Farr

This story is the second in the Mental Health for the Holidays series. While end-of-year celebrations can be a time of joy — they can also trigger feelings of stress and loss. Read the collection to learn how others were able to meet those challenges.

I often hear people say how much they hate New Year’s Eve. But I love it, for one simple reason: it’s not Christmas. The relief! On New Year’s Eve, you have options if you want to glam up for a glittering soiree to pop champagne corks, wear festive hats, and sway with strangers to Auld Lang Syne. If you’d rather stay home in your pajamas, binge-watch TV, and head to bed early, no one will judge you for it.

Christmas, though, is a different crock of mulled wine — the expectations are many, as are the possibilities for conflict and emotional pain. I wouldn’t say I anticipate it as I would a root canal, but a cleaning or small filling wouldn’t be far off. While it has to be done, as it’s happening, oh how I wish the slightly painful, tedious process was over.

Why, you ask? The truth is, I actually have many fond and happy memories of Christmas from childhood. I had secular parents who emphasized the holiday, not the religion. Yet there were always echoes of its “true meaning”: goodwill to all, peace on Earth, mercy mild, giving rather than receiving.

Adult life was where the difficulties began. One was being diagnosed with dysthymia (now called persistent depressive disorder or PDD) – its symptoms include low mood, hopelessness, worry, guilt, and a host of other challenges.

Then, when I was 21, my 58-year-old mother had a stroke, a catastrophic event she struggled with (having both physical and mental effects) for more than a decade until the day she died. When that happened, my sister and I worried about how our father would cope after 46 years of marriage. That first Christmas without her was tough on us all, but our normally reclusive and unemotional father was surprisingly (to us) resilient. While he cried one night after dinner — only the second time I’d ever seen him do so, besides the day after my mother died two months earlier — we gave each other what comfort we could and weathered the season, despite how heartbreaking it was and how unfestive we felt.

A week later, we managed to convince him to attend his politician neighbour’s annual New Year’s Day levee. Of course, he grumbled — it was probably the first time he’d been to such an event in decades — but to our surprise, he mingled gracefully. Every time I looked around, he was making small talk with a different cluster of people. “He’s working the room,” I remember telling my sister as we stood beside a potted plant away from the madding crowd. I know that at least one of the older people he spoke to had also recently lost a spouse. It was touching to see them talking.

At home later, when we remarked on how many people he’d managed to speak to, he let us in on his philosophy of party etiquette. “Get in and get out,” he said. A few minutes tops with each person, then move on. “No one wants to hear your life story.” He did have a point.

When you live with a mood disorder, especially PDD, what should make you happy – or at least cheerful – can have the opposite effect. Years of living with it and successful treatment (for which I’m grateful) have given me insight, coping tools, and perspective. I know what will pull me down — so I avoid malls, pass on Christmas movies, mute Christmas TV ads, plan realistically, and pace myself when it comes to socializing.

But you can’t avoid everything. An old carol on the radio as I’m anxiously wrapping gifts I hope someone will like can send me into a tailspin of brooding about all that’s wrong with the season and the world. People like me are the Eeyores and Charlie Browns of the world (Charles M. Schulz suffered from depression) — we’ll find the worm in the apple, or the mince tart, just give us time. We can’t help dwelling on the fact that most people don’t live in a Norman Rockwell painting. We think of those without family or those with families so complicated that the stresses of holiday planning are hard to justify. This year in particular, lots of people will be struggling with holiday expenses. And let’s not forget all those who don’t celebrate Christmas, and how they must endure a world awash in red and green and ho-ho-hoing Santas for two months after Halloween. Millions of turkeys raised for mass slaughter, what fun the season is for them. And mountains of shiny unrecyclable wrapping paper clogging up landfills.

You can see where PDD takes me. Nowhere good.

I take deep breaths and remind myself that, while fleeting feelings of sadness are not unhealthy, mulling endlessly on the world’s ills won’t change them. Appreciating your good fortune is one thing, but feeling guilt over having enough to eat, a loving family and friends, and a warm place to live, will not help those who don’t have them. Comfort and joy don’t just happen. You have to create them, and that requires generosity of spirit (as Scrooge famously learned) instead of going so far inward you can’t see beyond your own navel.

Ironically, I now share my life with someone who loves Christmas. He doesn’t build Christmas villages, bake fancy cakes and cookies months in advance, or wear ugly home-knitted sweaters. But he owns a sizable tree-ornament collection, insists on a live tree, and hangs garlands of outdoor lights without fail — humming tunes and thinking of his adult children and grandchildren as he does so.

We have turned my aversion to Christmas into a shared joke. Randomly, we’ll sing Holly Jolly Christmas to each other with great enthusiasm while pretending to sob uncontrollably. Maybe you have to be there to appreciate the dark humour, but trust me, it turns my tears into laughter and lifts me out of the dumps every time.

Another depressive friend copes by focusing on the pagan origins of Christmas — the lit tree, a hopeful sign of life in the dark winter, keeping evil spirits away. All the greenery decking the halls are laden with symbolism: the wreath is a circle of life; mistletoe, a tribute to love and reconciliation.

I’m sure my father didn’t always love Christmas after my mother died. He lived another 13 years, grieving with quiet dignity and moving on to a life of his own, which I believe he enjoyed. When he was diagnosed with lung cancer at age 86, we scrambled to make sure he wasn’t alone. We had a modest Christmas together, accommodating his fatigue from radiation treatments and the cancer itself. He had little appetite and mostly slept. While we didn’t know he would die just six weeks later, we knew it would likely be our last Christmas with him.

After his death, as we cleared out his house, I found several Christmas gifts with my name on them under his bed. Obviously, he’d forgotten to put them under the tree. One was a silver pen carved in a swirling Celtic pattern. Of course, it caused heartache, but I will always treasure it. More than that, I treasure the thought of my father going out, despite the ravages of cancer, and shopping for thoughtful gifts to give his daughters.

Comfort and joy. He tried right to the end to provide them. I often remind myself of that. If he could do it, so can I.

Author: Moira Farr, is the author of After Daniel: A Suicide Survivor’s Tale. She teaches in the journalism programs at Carleton University and Algonquin College in Ottawa.

More resources to support your well-being over the holidays:
How to Give Back (or Reach Out) This Holiday Season (Mental Health Commission of Canada)
Five Ways to Protect Your Mental Health This Holiday (Canadian Mental Health Association)

By Nicole Chevrier

Download a copy

Estimated reading time: 5 minutes

This blog post discusses trauma and eating disorders.

Does the festive winter holiday season give you the warm fuzzies? “It’s the most wonderful time of the year”, goes the classic sung by Andy Williams:

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year
With the kids jingle belling
And everyone telling you “Be of good cheer”
It’s the most wonderful time of the year
It’s the hap-happiest season of all”

Does the prospect of the holidays make you feel cheerful? Personally, the thought of all this forced merry making makes me want to run for the hills. All I can think about is the long to-do list that goes with all of this festivity. I go out of my way to avoid the marketing and all the idealized images of the perfect festive season. All the trimmings and the trappings of all the things we are supposed to want and need.

If you haven’t guessed it by now, dear reader, I am one of those people who does not celebrate the holidays. At least not the way we are made to feel that we need to (I will not use the word ‘grinch’ here, but you can draw your own conclusions). I pretty much try to ignore the entire array of holiday season stuff altogether. Shopping, presents, trees, decorations, chestnuts roasting on the open fire (well, I am ok with this one), Secret Santa, holiday get togethers, work parties, cocktail parties, galas, and overconsumption. And don’t even ask me if I am baking cookies. Seriously. It’s a punishing marathon I abandoned years ago.

On the other hand, I wouldn’t expect everyone to feel the same way. But even if you love the season, just know that if you are feeling the pressure of the obligations and the social expectations, not to mention the financial stress, you are not alone. Holiday stress affects so many of us, and it can aggravate pre-existing mental health issues for some people.

So, let’s consider what you can do to enjoy the season and keep body, mind, and soul together.

Family time

Socializing is a big part of the season. Spending time with loved ones and seeing friends is the very best part of the festivities. But it should be pointed out that for some people, attending family gatherings can be a source of stress. Feelings around complex relationships, childhood difficulties, and family tensions can get intensified at this time of year. For many people who live with the experience of trauma, feeling forced to spend time with family can surface difficult feelings. While it may not be possible to avoid spending time with people who trigger difficult feelings or memories, there are coping strategies that can help.

Socializing

You might also feel obligated to attend social activities associated with work or other social connections. For people who struggle with social anxiety, these situations can be daunting. When I find myself headed for some kind of large social event, I often find myself feeling tense and irritable instead of relaxed and cheerful.

It’s not that I dislike people. I want to connect, but I sometimes feel anxiety around meeting new people and find it difficult to open up conversations. I dread party chit chat. I also sometimes find it draining to be surrounded by a large group.

Unfortunately, it’s not possible to forgo every invitation, as I do actually have a social and work network, so I rely on the principle that it is possible to politely decline. I try to attend the events that are the most meaningful to my social circles. Here are some more great principles to keep in mind:

You don’t need to attend every event. Choose the ones that are the best fit for you. Some people find large events fun and exciting and feel more uncomfortable in small, intimate settings. For others, it is the reverse. Everyone is different.
Give yourself permission to leave after 30 minutes if that’s what you need to do. Just knowing that can help you to relax and enjoy the moment.
Use the buddy system. Find someone to go with. It will make things easier and more enjoyable.

Well-being and complex relationships with food

Getting together for meals is a big part of holiday festivities but if you are coping with an eating disorder, the holiday season can be a source of stress. While it might be the only opportunity to see your family or to re-connect with old friends, the disruption of the everyday routine can throw things out of balance, upsetting good habits and routines for maintaining your well-being.

If you feel anxious or concerned about food, remember that you have the power to not let mealtimes become the focus of your day. Balance out your day with other types of healthy activities such as getting outside, enjoying cultural events, and other activities which don’t involve food.

It’s important to remember that while family or friends may not be able to relate or fully understand your needs or situation, there is non-judgmental and confidential support available, including help lines and live chat.

Overindulging

With all this partying going on, there are some very good reasons to be concerned about over-indulging. Most celebrations tend to involve drinking alcohol. Some people might feel anxious about relapsing into drinking alcohol. There can be social pressure to indulge in some ‘holiday cheer’. If you know someone who is concerned about their sobriety, you can be helpful by supporting that person to make the choices that are right for them. It might be simply offering them a ride home or to a meeting. Or it could be an invitation to leave the party and go somewhere else. If it’s you who is struggling, remember there are supports out there for you.

3 simple tips to reduce holiday stress

Lower your expectations

The holidays might be called the happiest time of the year, but is that always true? Remind yourself that it’s impossible to meet everyone’s expectations, including your own. Try to spend less time on social media – comparing yourself to others is the surest route to feeling disappointed.

Include self-care into your routine

Making plans to spread love and joy to others needs to include yourself. Self-care may be the most precious gift you can give to yourself.

Plan in advance

Is your to-do list reasonable? Think of what you can give up this year because the only thing you should never give up on is your health.

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.

By Debra Yearwood

Over the holidays my inner voice proves to be the most critical as I straddle the pull of a commercial Christmas and the deep-seated draw of Kwanzaa. On tackling the minefield of tackiness, tinsel, and trappings of the season.

This story is the first in the Mental Health for the Holidays series. While end-of-year celebrations can be a time of joy — they can also trigger feelings of stress and loss. Read the collection to learn how others were able to meet those challenges.

It always starts with childlike glee. The excitement, bubbling over with an irresistible anticipation of the merriment, the food, the socializing, and of course, the presents. Christmas time is the best. Well, almost. There are always undercurrents.

There’s the worrying about the consequences of all that good cheer. Actually, worrying doesn’t quite cover it. It’s more like gnawing than worry — more like guilt, really. You know how it goes. Should I try the yummy cookies? It’s Christmas after all. How many? Perhaps just one. . . they’re not that big. How much butter and sugar could they have? Oh, but they’re so good — and gone so quickly. I barely tasted that. Perhaps two, three. . . seventeen?

Then comes the guilt. I ate way too much. All that butter and sugar. Ugh. I think I can hear my arteries hardening. The familiar commitments to do better follow. Tomorrow I’ll have a salad. . . but then someone invited me out for lunch. Dinner with friends is on for the next day and of course all those friends I haven’t seen in, like, forever. Drinks! Wasn’t that a special bottle of rum! Oh, and the best Côtes du Rhône I’ve had in an age. Recriminations arrive in the morning, delivered in that scathing voice I reserve just for me. Ugh, again! But the see-saw of pleasure and punishment is just getting started.

I turn my attention to the glitter. All that sparkle and rich, scented greenery. Bright bulbs touch every surface until the house feels like a fairytale wonderland. I love the Christmas cheer. But is it excessive? How many garlands are too many? Is tinsel elegant or tacky? What does “less is more” even mean? What do designers think it means?

Soon I’m surrounded by magazines, each offering contradictory advice. My house isn’t that big, and I don’t have a bevy of assistants to help me add glamour. Could someone also explain to me why I would I want an all-white tree? Or an all-red one? It all seems less like Christmas and more like branding. Perhaps a more traditional approach is the way to go. But honestly, string popcorn just seems like a good way to invite a mouse infestation. Besides, the way the dog is eyeing the popcorn bowl has me thinking I’ll have to guard the tree 24-7. It all seems unnecessarily constrained and formal. Maybe I’m just too tacky.

How much money am I spending on decorations, food, presents? Too much. Not enough? How many families are doing without while I squander cash on the most useless items imaginable? I look at my silver bells laid carefully beside my silver reindeer and big bowl of shiny do-nothings and think, Wouldn’t that money have been better spent on a donation? Am I selfish and self-centered?

All these concerns mark the coming together of my neuroses — otherwise known as Christmas time.

But then there’s the secret guilt I hold close to my chest. The guilt of being Black while enjoying Christmas — I like to call it my Kwanzaa guilt. It starts to simmer a few months before the week-long celebration of African American culture, beginning on December 26th. Why the guilt? Because I don’t actually celebrate Kwanzaa. I’m not sure I even want to. Yet such an admission from a proud and — I like to think — progressive Black woman, can be tantamount to proclaiming my status as an Oreo or a coconut — Black on the outside, white on the inside.

Kwanzaa is not supposed to replace Christmas, but coming when it does certainly feels like competition. Healthier, more thoughtful competition. As I rub my hands in greedy anticipation of the fatty foods and rich desserts of my usual Christmas gluttony, I imagine the contrast to what my Kwanzaa sisters will be enjoying: fruits, vegetables, and corn. More guilt follows (not to be confused with the reams of gilt I’ll be spreading with abandon across my home, with nary a straw mat in sight).

Kwanzaa is the thoughtful creation of a Black academic. At its core, it’s a celebration of reflection, a seven-night toast to the Black diaspora, and our success in overcoming a multitude of struggles. It slides in, brimming with the aspirational concepts of unity, self-determination, collective work and responsibility, cooperative economics, purpose, creativity, and at the forefront, faith. For Kwanzaa, homemade gifts are offered, and commercialism is avoided. In lieu of string lights, we find seven candles burning.

Yet, despite its wholesome message and optimistic values, I shun it — instead embracing a holiday that has me wondering if any of the wise men were Black.

My Kwanzaa guilt didn’t start with its inception in the ‘60s or even its prominence in the ‘90s. No, my love of — OK, let’s face it — hate of Christmas started as a child. No one in my family looks like Santa and, until very recently, every tree angel had golden hair and the rosiest of cheeks. I got my first fireplace when I was 28, so there was no hope of Santa making his way down the chimney when I was a girl. And Barbados, which my family calls home, doesn’t have a single pine tree. In fact, from mistletoe and cranberries to rutabaga and turkey, for my family the traditional dressings of Christmas were an exploration in foreignness. Yet we embraced its customs and, over time, made them our own.

So every year I drag boxes upon boxes of Christmas décor out of the basement. I string lights outside and inside my home, and I sing and dance — like Carlton from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air — to Christmas carols as I do so. Thank you, Sir Paul, I’m sim-ply haaaaaving a wonderful Christmas time. While Kwanzaa intentions are good, the trappings are even more foreign to me than Christmas. Why should I give up the traditions of a lifetime?

Though I’m not one, like a good Christian I’ve learned to change the holiday to suit my cultural needs. So this year, we’ll be serving rice and peas, fish, and oxtail. I’m looking at Weight Watchers for healthy Christmas recipes and, despite having a beautiful fireplace, we’ll be hanging our stockings along the banister by the front door. As usual, our treetop will be home to a glittering pair of lovebirds instead of an angel.

Every year I find new ways of making the holiday mine, adding touches of me and stripping away those things that reflect a colonial mindset. As I draft each of them to my own cause and purpose, I’m learning to make peace with the parts of Christmas that may have had a different meaning in the past. Hopefully, the only Oreos at my house will be those I enjoy while indulging in a Hallmark Christmas movie. Happy holidays!

More resources to support your well-being over the holidays:

How to Give Back (or Reach Out) This Holiday Season (Mental Health Commission of Canada)
Five Ways to Protect Your Mental Health This Holiday (Canadian Mental Health Association)

Author: Debra Yearwood, is a communications specialist living and working in Ottawa.

Debra Yearwood

A communications pro with more than 20 years of executive experience in the health sector, expertly navigating everything from social marketing to crisis comms. When she’s not advising on the boards of Health Partners or Top Sixty Over Sixty, she’s busy finishing her book on thriving in later life (because why stop now?). Certified Health Executive by day, diversity advocate and magazine contributor by night—Debra’s the one you call when things need fixing or explaining.

Author: [Name withheld]

Fleeing from intimate partner violence takes a network of supports

The day before I left my relationship, I wouldn’t have believed you if you’d told me I was a victim of intimate partner violence. Looking back, I understand there can be many reasons and complex factors involved, like the way people living with abuse (physical, mental, or emotional) normalize their situation.

“It’s not so bad, things will get better when he gets that promotion/finds a better job/comes back from that trip. . . .” You get the picture. Meanwhile, as you’re waiting for things to improve, the risk that they’ll actually get worse — with more frequent and severe abusive episodes — grows higher.

I also understand that normalizing is a very common coping mechanism. It can be hard to accept that you’re in a life-threatening situation. I know because I did it myself. Yet normalizing can also keep you stuck in bad circumstances, especially if your partner is manipulative. Such people can sense when you are becoming distant or thinking of leaving, and they work hard to reel you back in — going into honeymoon mode, bringing home flowers, and making big shows of affection.

I endured two years of abuse before I woke up one morning and knew that I had to leave my relationship — no matter what. It was as if my survival instincts had finally kicked in after being dormant over many months. While I’d considered leaving many times, and even threatened to do it on a few occasions, things were now different. Suddenly I knew there was no going back.

People who’ve never had these experiences wonder why those of us who do choose to stay or find it hard to leave. I don’t think there’s any simple answer. Often, the abuser has tight control on them, on their finances, on their children, and on the family dynamic.

A sense of shame is also a powerful factor. It’s very common in these relationships to feel shame for being on the receiving end of abuse and for enduring it. An abused person will often blame themself, sometimes subconsciously. And abusive partners often blame the person they abuse for their own behaviour.

Abuse happens far more often than you might think, regardless of age, gender, culture, nationality, or socio-economic status. To someone experiencing abuse and the collection of dilemmas it brings, it can feel like a problem that can’t be solved on its own terms. Because it is. The abuser has defined and set the terms of the relationship, and the person who wants the abuse to stop sees no clear way out. Because there isn’t. Not until they find their way through to the point of rejecting the entire power dynamic and accepting the consequences of leaving. And such consequences can be severe. Someone fleeing abuse will frequently experience loss on many levels: material, social, emotional, and personal.

Family members or friends often express surprise when they find out about abuse. While that’s partly due to the silence and isolation fuelled by shame, much of it arises because the abuser goes to such great lengths to control their image, their reputation, and the narrative of the relationship. Despite these efforts, abuse almost always leaves signs. It’s just that people don’t usually recognize them, or else they choose to look past them or discount them.

Running on instinct
My abusive partner was highly manipulative, callous, selfish, and controlling. One way he controlled the narrative of our relationship was by constantly calling my commitment into question. Even after moving in with him, and lending him large sums of money, he frequently lamented my “lack of commitment.” He painted a picture of himself as a victim of my uncaring selfishness.

This kind of victim blaming is a frequent weapon of choice for an abusive partner. Another is gaslighting, a term from an old movie (Gaslight) about a young woman whose husband manipulates her into believing that she’s losing her sanity. In the context of disordered relationships, the term means emotionally manipulating and abusing a partner to the point where they doubt their own sense of reality. It’s a way of keeping all the control in a relationship and sustaining access to resources: money, affection, attention, energy, validation, admiration, and respect.

The day I woke up and decided to leave, I knew I needed to find a way to stay the course. I also knew that I was in danger of losing my nerve and my resolve. While I was able to recognize that I was fragile and emotionally unstable, I was struggling to think clearly (a psychological effect of ongoing trauma). But it was now or never. I had to do something quickly because it wouldn’t take long for my partner to sense that something was up. I didn’t have the wherewithal to call an 800 number or do a Google search. If you had told me I needed a safety plan, I would have drawn a complete blank. All I knew was that I needed to leave and that my life depended on it. Because of that, I somehow switched into a survival mode that allowed me to formulate a plan and act on it.

I booked a few days off from work (I had managed to maintain a successful career despite my situation) and began searching for an apartment to rent. Though I was able to secure the first suitable apartment I could find, it wasn’t available right away. So I booked a storage facility for my belongings and a hotel for myself, while thinking, How would someone with fewer resources manage all this?

To take care of the larger items, I booked a mover for a day that I knew my partner would be at work. But my plan hit a snag. Instead telling the moving company that I was fleeing an abusive relationship, I simply told them it would be a small job. Assuming that they would arrive when they promised turned out to be a big mistake: they showed up four hours late.

I would end up leaving most of my possessions behind, almost everything.

How to help
If you know (or suspect) that someone you know is facing this kind of unsafe situation, the best way to help is offering to listen. It’s also important that you mean it. Don’t offer just once and fade into the background. Be persistent. For someone experiencing abuse, it often takes more than one try for someone to confide in you. By taking on the role of an oblivious bystander and doing nothing, we can unintentionally contribute to the abuse. When you see something, say something.

An abusive partner may display anger or have a quick or unpredictable temper. They may blame you for their violent outbursts and physically harm (or threaten harm) you, themself, and members of your household, including children or pets. They may be demeaning or put you down by insulting your appearance, intelligence, or interests. They may try to humiliate you in front of others and attempt to destroy your property or things you care about. They may keep track of everything you do, insist that you reply right away to their texts, emails, and calls, and demand to know your passwords to social media sites, email, and other accounts.

Recognizing signs that someone you know is experiencing abuse:

Checks the time constantly and is expected to be home at a certain time
Engages in constant texting/phone calls with their partner when they’re apart
Reports to their partner before making decisions
Becomes distant when you communicate with them
Loses interest in hobbies or activities
Experiences sadness out of nowhere, with sudden crying or anger
Goes overboard to make the abuser look good
Stops taking care of their own mental, emotional, physical, and spiritual needs
Withdraws from your friendship, with no calls or visits, and cuts off communication
Retreats from social events and family gatherings

If you are worried about a friend’s safety, stay in touch. To keep communication lines open, avoid making the abuser suspicious. You can create secret code words to use in conversations that can help you communicate more safely. Ask your friend how they prefer to connect. Establishing a safe communication channel is important since, in many instances, they will be physically close to an abuser who might be monitoring conversations. Ask if your friend prefers an instant message or text over a call, and if there’s a specific platform or app they prefer. Be supportive and believe them. Reassure them that they are not alone and that help and supports are available. Recognize that it may be difficult for them to talk about the abuse. If they want to talk, listen carefully and be empathetic.

Sixteen Days
The National Day of Remembrance and Action on Violence Against Women on December 6th is about remembering those who have experienced gender-based violence. It is also about taking action. Each December 6, people across Canada are invited to honour and remember the 14 women who were murdered at Polytechnique Montréal on that day in 1989, which falls within the 16 Days of Activism Against Gender-Based Violence from November 25 to December 10.

Learn more
Read the Women and Gender Equality Canada plan: It’s Time: Canada’s Strategy to Prevent and Address Gender-Based Violence.

Resources
Recognizing signs of abuse: Frequently Asked Questions: The Signs of Relationship Abuse and How to Help, from UN Women.

Support services across Canada from the Canadian Women’s Foundation

Author: [Name withheld] continues to reflect upon and share her lived experience to raise awareness of intimate partner violence.

By Nicole Chevrier

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This resource was published in 2022. The data may be out of date.

Estimated reading time: 4 minutes

“I have spent most of my teenage years living in a state of climate anxiety or as some call it, eco-anxiety. I should be dreaming about my future instead of having nightmares. I should be spending my time reading, writing, and skating – enjoying my youth. What am I anxious about, you ask? Most of Belfast will be uninhabitable by 2050 due to rising sea levels. I personally am motivated by fear to work on climate activism but it’s too much responsibility for young people to take on alone.” Anna Kernahan, age 18, Belfast.

Distress, anxiety, and anger are just some of the psychological impacts of the climate crisis on the well-being of children and young people worldwide. A recent study, the largest of its kind — asked 10,000 young people in 10 countries how they felt about climate change and government responses to it. Nearly 60% said they felt ‘very worried’ or ‘extremely worried’ and reported that this ‘eco-anxiety’ has a negative impact on their daily lives.

Increasing levels of stress and overwhelm, and feelings of loss, helplessness, and frustration of young people around the world are becoming more difficult to ignore. Their fear and distress over our planet’s future is often accompanied by guilt. Many young people feel that not enough is being done by the authorities to fix the situation and they worry that they will be unable to stop climate change. For some young people, the future looks so dire that they have decided against having children of their own.

How to help a child cope with eco-anxiety

Parents and caregivers have an active role to play in helping children and young people cope with feelings of anxiety. It starts with being aware of the signs.

Signs of anxiety in children

fatigue, headaches, or stomach aches
sleep disturbances
not eating properly
quickly getting angry or irritable and being out of control during outbursts
constantly worrying or having negative thoughts
feeling tense and fidgety
finding it hard to concentrate

If you notice your child may be feeling anxiety, a good place to start is talking about it. Parents might feel hesitant about answering questions about climate change or may wish to avoid the topic, but a discussion can be helpful. Even if as a parent you don’t have the answers to all their questions, you can help a child to develop positive coping mechanisms.

Talking with children about climate change is a good way to help them cope, say the experts, such as the study co-author Caroline Hickman, a climate-psychology researcher at the University of Bath in the UK. Hickman points out that “children are infinitely more informed than their parents think, a lot of the time. ” Hickman encourages people to have “lots of conversations” with kids around climate change.

However, parents also need to calibrate the discussions they have with children of different ages, advises climate educator Harriet Shugarman, executive director of Climate Mama, an advocacy organisation for parents. In her book How to Talk to Your Kids About Climate Change, Shugarman points out that “when kids are coming to you with questions directly, we have to tell the truth, whatever age they’re at.” At the same time, we need to recognize that “kids do have power, and we want to try to work to build that up at each age,” she advises.

Channeling their anxiety to take positive action is a choice being made by growing numbers of young people across the globe. Young climate activists are connecting, discussing, and educating and empowering themselves to take action on climate change and turn their feelings of hopelessness into hope. 16-year-old Amy O’Brien is an activist with Fridays for Future Ireland, a youth movement that uses school strikes to campaign for climate justice. “Through activism, I’ve met so many other activists who really care about the climate crisis,” O’Brien says, and that gives her hope: “Hope is also now my driving force, like a little light pushing me to act.”

Author: Nicole Chevrier

**A children’s book on depression is a tough sell, but it’s an important topic. On authoring and self-publishing The Semicolon.**

When I think of the countless rejections I received for The Semicolon, two stand out. The first was from an incredulous literary agent who wondered why I would even choose depression as a topic for a children’s book. The second agent, even more blunt, told me flatly: “I’m not interested in the mental-health-for-children part.”

Rejection comes with the territory as a writer, and I am the first to admit that my story is offbeat. I was inspired to write it after reading an article about Amy Bluel of Project Semicolon and other mental health advocates adopting the semicolon as a symbol of hope and resilience in anti-suicide initiatives. Many of these individuals have gotten semicolon tattoos in solidarity or as a way to validate their own experiences of survival. The choice is informed by the reason a semicolon is used; it signals the continuation of a sentence rather than its end. That symbolism resonated with me — not only as an author but because, having gone through severe depression in my 20s, I knew that depression could be just as misunderstood as grammar.

I wondered if I could take this beautiful concept of the semicolon and, in a non-didactic and age-appropriate way, introduce it to younger readers who are themselves susceptible to mental health struggles.

Yet I chose an uphill climb. The children’s book market is difficult enough to crack for writers who don’t illustrate their own work, and here I was pitching a story about a difficult topic told in an abstract way. Still, I didn’t want to underestimate the depth and capacity children have to imagine and reflect, even those unfamiliar with semicolons. My concept may have repelled literary agents, but I saw it fitting into a category of picture books on difficult themes that are intended to be read — and discussed — with children (alongside titles such as The Scar by Charlotte Moundlic and Virginia Wolf by Canadian author Kyo Maclear).

Britt Sayler

What’s more: this was (and still is) a topic that desperately needs talking about.

Even before the pandemic, the CDC assessed the prevalence of depression in children between six and eleven years old at two per cent (and more than triple that for adolescents). By all accounts, children’s mental health has only worsened since then. Manitoba-based Kidthink now estimates that 10 to 20 per cent of very young children in Canada are experiencing mental health problems. And in October, the Canadian Paediatric Society warned that young people are experiencing growing wait times for mental health support.

In this light, why did writing about mental health for a young audience feel so taboo? Was it the act of putting it into words? Was it because, as a society, we still cling to the idea of childhood as a happy and carefree time? Or was it depression specifically, rather than mental health in general, that was uncomfortable?

More than once, I was advised to pitch the book as a story about grief, since the main character’s depression follows the loss of a parent (drastic life changes are a common trigger). To me, this guidance missed the point. So finally, I decided to self-publish. I just couldn’t mute the very point I was trying to get people talking about.

Reaching kids who aren’t all right
Even for children, depression can be all-consuming. I wanted to capture that (literally — a slurping pit figures prominently in the book) and engage readers without being moralistic. That is, story first, message second. I also wanted to trust children’s ability to learn new concepts, in hopes of offering something that resonated beyond the last page.

Of course, without the near-automatic access to schools and libraries that established publishing houses enjoy, reaching kids becomes the challenge. I worry generally about the commodification of mental health, but to get my book to those who need it, I would have to market it.

There is an obvious audience in mental health practitioners who work with children. Equally important, though, are the parents, educators, and caregivers with first-hand experience of mental illness — especially recovery from depression or familiarity with semicolon tattoos. The fact is, most picture books are marketed to adults who buy and read them to kids, and those with lived and living experience can make for the most passionate advocates.

The biggest hurdle would be getting the book to children who need it now, not just those at risk of depression in the future. It can be unpalatable to think of a young child in your life as depressed. Furthermore, depression rarely looks the same in children as it does in adults — a clear theme from the experts I spoke to in writing this book. We all struggle at times to process our feelings, but children are still developing their self-awareness and vocabulary to communicate these. It’s up to adults to look for the signs.

Because 2SLGBTQ+ youth are at a higher risk of depression and suicide than their peers, I also made the conscious decision not to specify the gender of the child narrating the story. The language is gender-neutral, and the illustrations are ambiguous to leave space for each reader to perceive the main character according to what they need.

Now that The Semicolon is in print, I hope it finds a place among the growing number of picture books devoted to mental health. Many of these focus on aspects of wellness like emotional awareness, self-regulation, and self-esteem; I want mine to shed light on the prevalence of childhood depression, and deepen society’s understanding without diluting it. There’s a difference between ordinary sadness and depression, just as there is between normal worry and clinical anxiety.

As a resource for children, I hope it can spark conversations and help readers gain lasting perspectives on dark feelings, but all of these books should be viewed in context. They are not substitutes for diagnosis or treatment. They are tools in a bigger toolbox intended to help children be the healthiest possible version of themselves — a box our kids are needing more and more.

Further Reading

Talking to Children About a Suicide.

Proactive prevention: A model to stop bullying.

Author: Britt Sayler‘s book, The Semicolon, is now available through FriesenPress.

Britt Sayler

Illustrator: Dorota Rewerenda

Author photo: Andrea Gray, Trio Photography

By Yvette Murray

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Estimated reading time: 4 minutes

Have you ever felt at a loss of what to say or do when a friend is going through a mental health difficulty? Or do you have an answer for their problem before they have finished telling you what their problem is? Not having all the answers when supporting a friend experiencing a mental health difficulty is not necessarily a bad thing. Resist the urge to fix. I dive deep into the topic of “support does not equal fixing” in my MHCC Catalyst article ‘It’s Broke- And Don’t Fix it.’

The Problem Solver

The wonderful, caring, hard-to-see-others-in-pain, jump-into-action-and-want-to-make-it-all-better person… you relate? It can be uncomfortable seeing someone going through a mental well-being decline. Resist the urge to make it all better. Instead, pause and listen. Providing that safe space and really listening, I mean REALLY listening can be powerfully healing.

Don’t take their problem from them, trust them to deal with it in their own way. Do your best to understand the person even when, from your lens, they may not make sense. Give them enough room to discover for themselves why they feel upset and enough time to think for themselves what’s best. Hold back the desire to give them “good” advice.

The “Advice-or”

“Good” advice is relative: what may be good for me may not be for you. When you jump into “fix it” mode, the person sharing becomes aware they are not being listened to and possibly feels unheard and rejected. You may be trying to sort out the details (the who, what, when, where) and are not aware of the feelings or emotions behind the words.

A new study identifies 27 categories of emotion and shows how they blend together in our everyday experience. Most of us were never taught how to describe or name our feelings. Psychology once assumed that most human emotions fall within the universal categories of happiness, sadness, anger, surprise, fear, and disgust. Brene Brown hosts an informative, human centered TV series called Atlas of the Heart which dives deep in defining emotions, feelings and the words used to describe them.

As a psychotherapist, you may assume that I’m naturally a really great listener—I’m not! I really need practice at it. I’m already thinking of a response before the other person has finished speaking, which creates disconnection. Or if there is a pause, I jump in with the word that I think they are thinking of and 90% of time I’ve got the wrong word! As a result, the person may feel rushed, thinking, “I better hurry or I won’t be able to get a word in edgewise,” or start to shut down and disengage. Really listening provides an environment where the person can show up authentically, with more of an opportunity to receive support.

Ask, Don’t Tell

To truly support someone, “help me help you” really is a powerful approach. How do we do that? The first step is asking them! For example, ask questions like:

“How can I best support you?”
“What do you think would happen if you did this or that?”
“How can I support you today?”
“What does help look like for you?”

Getting clarity on what’s being said, by paraphrasing and saying, “What I heard you say is” or “My understanding is…Is that correct?”

Don’t assume how the person is feeling or what they “should” do. I often say, “don’t let anyone should on you today and/or don’t should on yourself.”

The Empathizer

Empathy is not connecting to an experience; it’s connecting to the emotions that underpin an experience. Sympathy is “feeling for me” and can be perceived as condescending. Empathy is “feeling with me.”

In order for one to be empathetic, it requires seeing the world as others see it, or seeing it from their perspective. Stay away from judgment, not putting our beliefs on how things “should” be onto others. Do your best to understand another person’s feelings and communicate your understanding of that person’s feelings. Be aware of your own feelings and boundaries.

Listening Fatigue

Know that when you really listen it can be tiring, it takes energy. It may also stir up emotions for you or trigger memories of previous experiences. Self-care is an integral part of being an effective listener. Some may say self-care is selfish, especially when others have “got it worse.” Selfish is when you do things that are a detriment to others; self-care is when you have self-interest and are in care of yourself for the benefit of others (and yourself). This is a critically important distinction.

When you are thanked for listening, accept the gift of gratitude, and let them know it was good to know that you have been helpful. This also helps the person not feel like they’ve just burdened you with their “problems.”

When listening and supporting a friend experiencing a mental health difficulty, practice listening as a receiver, not as a critic, and practice to understand the other person rather than to achieve either agreement from, or change in, that person.

“To be fully seen by somebody, then, and to be loved anyhow—this is a human offering that can border on miraculous” – Elizabeth Gilbert

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). Yvette 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.

It’s time to talk about mental health in football

The world of professional sports brings to mind scenes of packed stadiums, screaming fans, and lavish contracts for the most celebrated athletes, who display dazzling feats of skill and endurance. But this image of players fulfilling a life’s dream doesn’t always square with reality: the challenges many of them face in maintaining their mental well-being. The truth is, many elite athletes are struggling. Ahead of the 109th Grey Cup, The Catalyst looks at the way organizations like the Saskatchewan Roughriders are joining with others to tackle the issue.

According to a recent study in Psychology of Sport and Exercise, more than 40 per cent of 186 elite national team athletes in Canada “met the cut-off criteria for one or more mental disorders,” with stress and training load being “significant predictors of depression and anxiety.” To understand why, it’s important to acknowledge the realities athletes run into, both on and off the field.

Before reaching professional or top amateur levels, competitors must prove their skills in junior, university, and semi-professional leagues. This often means having to balance their sports aspirations with school, work, and family obligations, not to mention the growing public profile that comes with each success.

“It can be a grind at times,” said Ty Logan, a former university athlete and current professional defenceman with the Albany FireWolves of the National Lacrosse League. “When you’re in school, your weekends are spent travelling on a packed bus between cities, while trying to finish assignments and catching up on the lectures you missed during the week. It’s late nights in the library followed by early mornings at the gym. If you’re not careful with your time, it’s easy to fall behind in one way or another.”

Only as good as your last game
The expectation to perform in the midst of multiple obstacles and responsibilities can be a huge source of stress for young athletes. “You definitely feel the pressure from both sides,” Logan said. “Even when you turn professional, there are no days off, and you never know when it might be your last contract or last game in the league. You have to try to block out the outside world and focus on playing your best.”

This pressure intensifies for emerging athletes with the increasingly slim chances of becoming a professional in any given sport. According to the National Collegiate Athletic Association, around four per cent of all college athletes will reach a professional league or the Olympic level. Even fewer will stay there for more than a handful of games.

When you have a large group of highly motivated, competitive athletes battling for a finite number of spots, with the promise of fortune and fame on the line, it’s easy to see how the pressure can mount for aspiring professional athletes. Add in the need to maintain grades and a part-time job to help pay the bills, and the risk to one’s mental well-being becomes just as clear.

Knowing this, the Mental Health Commission of Canada (MHCC) adapted The Working Mind (TWM) training program to address these issues. TWM Sports modules focus on scenario-based, practical applications for both athletes and coaches which are grounded in the voices of people with lived and living experience of mental illness

Research shows that coaches fulfil multiple roles as motivators, counsellors, advisers, and parental substitutes — all of which require considerable emotional labour. And athletes must fully understand their own mental health — and that of those around them — to maximize their capabilities. To address these requirements, each of these TWM Sports courses provides tools and skills for adverse situations and the ability to support teammates — skills that apply just as much to people in beer and recreational leagues as they do to top athletes.

A nation of athletes
According to a 2016 Statistics Canada poll, 27 per cent of those age 15 and older regularly participate in sports. That’s more than eight million people across the country in some form of sporting activity, with fun, fitness, and physical health cited as the main benefits. But beyond the average individual, the trend shifts. For elite athletes, who dedicate their lives to professional competition, sports can change from a positive influence on physical health to something that puts mental wellness at risk. For instance, when it means sacrificing friendships and one’s personal life to the pursuit of sporting greatness.

This was one of many insights that emerged out of the development process for TWM Sports. The MHCC partnered with the Saskatchewan Roughrider Foundation to pilot the program with players and coaches, along with other elite athletes from Saskatchewan communities.

After Cindy Fuchs, the foundation’s executive director, saw the potential of having a TWM program designed specifically for athletes and coaches, she immediately contacted the MHCC to ask how she and her team could get involved.

“The Roughrider Foundation is dedicated to supporting health, education, and amateur football in our local communities, and the TWM Sports program weaves perfectly into those pillars,” she said. For Fuchs, TWM also aligns with the foundation’s other initiatives, including Win with Wellness and Game Changers Playbook, a collaborative project with the Saskatchewan Ministry of Education to address youth mental wellness in the province.

Throughout the pilot phase, a common thread in the feedback she received from participants was about how impactful the sessions were. “It forced them to reflect on their own mental well-being,” she said. “I think a lot of the players didn’t realize the stress they were going through until they reflected on it.”

By implementing a box-breathing technique from the program into his game-day routines, one kicker was also able to help his on-field performance. And the program also had a positive impact on team morale.

“You can see that the players who have taken the training have a special bond,” Fuchs added. “They know they can be open with each other about how they feel without any judgment.”

It’s this sense of openness — and the de-stigmatization of mental health in sports — that motivated the foundation to spread the word about the program and cover the entire cost of TWM Sports training for all university athletes in Saskatchewan.

Starting with the University of Saskatchewan, all student athletes — regardless of their sport — will have the opportunity to take the program. In addition, all Roughrider players who give presentations for the foundation’s in-school programs will undergo training, allowing them to share the lessons they learned through the course with young people in the community.

“We want as many athletes as possible to have the opportunity to experience this program — it’s that impactful,” Fuchs said. “How cool would it be for a player to be able to tell their coach they aren’t having a good day and not have to worry about being benched or blacklisted? It’s about mutual respect and openness to have this dialogue between the two sides.”

Author: Eric Gronke is a marketing and communications specialist at the Mental Health Commission of Canada. A graduate of Carleton University’s Sprott school of business, he has extensive experience in the fields of sports and entertainment. Eric is the co-founder of mssn, a brand dedicated to fundraising and awareness for youth mental health in the Ottawa area.

Photo: Player ambassador Mitch Picton, a current wide receiver for the Saskatchewan Roughriders, leads a wellness presentation at Sacred Heart Community School in Regina SK.

By Mental Health Commission

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It’s Movember, the month when we focus on men’s mental health and raise awareness and improve mental and physical health outcomes for men around the world. Some show their support with symbolic moustaches, while others lend their voice to the overdue conversation about men’s mental health.

We have long advocated for increased awareness of the unique mental health realities faced by men, who are less likely to recognize, talk about, and seek treatment for their illnesses.

With the right investments, we can turn the tide on men’s mental health, improving outcomes and promoting resiliency along the way.

Here are some of our resources that can help you learn about the issue and share your own story:

Men’s Mental Health and Suicide in Canada – Key Takeaways

Of the estimated 4,000 suicide deaths in Canada each year, close to 75 per cent are men. This resource summarizes the key takeaways from the Mental Health and Suicide Prevention in Men: Evidence Brief. Based on findings from the Evidence Brief, this resource highlights statistics on men’s mental health and suicidal behaviours, factors that contribute to their increased risk of suicide and suicide deaths, subgroups who are at higher risk of suicide, and the potential and observed impact of the COVID-19 pandemic on men’s mental health and suicide. The resource also highlights best and promising suicide prevention practices as well as resources for those looking for further support.

Mental Health and Suicide Prevention in Men – Evidence Brief

In addition to summarizing the evidence on factors that lead to increased risk of suicide and suicide deaths among men, subgroups that are at higher risk, and the potential and observed impact of COVID-19 on men as it relates to mental health and suicide, this brief will highlight best and promising suicide prevention practices.

Mental Health and Substance Use During COVID-19: Spotlight on Suicidal Ideation and Substance Use

People with substance use concerns are among those most likely to report thoughts about suicide, according to our latest Leger poll. While everyone has been affected by stresses brought on by two 5. years of the pandemic, it’s clear that not everyone has been impacted equally. Thoughts of suicide are also more common among youth, ethno-racialized groups and people who are unemployed.

Men and Suicide Fact Sheet

Middle-aged men (40 to 60) die by suicide more than anyone, including young people and women (Statistics Canada, 2019). Men are often socialized not to talk about their emotions. As a result, men as a group may mask their stress and deal with emotional pain through harmful behaviours and actions, and sometimes suicide, instead of seeking help.

Myths and facts: Suicide Prevention in the Workplace

Suicide prevention is everyone’s business. Preventing a death by suicide does not always need an expert; it is something we all can do. We can all learn skills to help promote life and help someone struggling with thoughts of suicide. Join the Mental Health Commission of Canada and the Centre for Suicide Prevention as we discuss suicide prevention in the workplace.

Raising awareness of men’s mental health

Attention around men’s health—particularly mental health—is gaining momentum in Canada. While men and women both live with mental health problems and illnesses, their experiences can be very different. Although rates of mental illness are comparable between men and women, men are less likely to recognize, talk about, and seek treatment for their illness.

Sharing your story: How to do it safely

Movember is upon us, the campaign that urges men to beat back stigma and conquer shame by opening up about their lived experience of mental illness. There are several platforms that encourage men to be raw and honest, like Michael Landsberg’s Sick Not Weak website, where would-be contributors can share their vulnerability in the name of collective strength.

8. Rooted in community

In 2018, Newfoundland and Labrador’s Burin Peninsula became the first of eight communities to sign on to the Mental Health Commission of Canada’s (MHCC’s) Roots of Hope project — a community-led suicide prevention initiative that aims to prevent suicide with strategies adapted to the local context.

9. Tough Talk

Of the roughly 4,000 suicide deaths in Canada each year, 75 per cent are men. For men between the ages of 15 and 39, suicide is the second leading cause of death (after accidental death). Clearly, we have a lot to talk about.

Author: Mental Health Commission

A Generation at Risk

Bringing Purpose to Work

Accommodations: The Bridge from Mental Health Disability to Employee Retention