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The holidays can bring joy, complexity, and everything in between. These Catalyst stories share the experiences, challenges, and small moments of light that shape this time of year. Whether you’re celebrating, coping, or doing a bit of both, we hope these stories offer support along the way.
Four bandmates, four decades of musical discovery. Documenting shifting understandings of temperament and temperance. This isn’t just music; it’s resilience, renewal, and reckoning, woven into a story that could be a song.
When your sibling goes down the rabbit hole, how do you find a loving and healthy way to stay connected?
When we speak openly about challenges, illnesses, problems, and wellness, we recognize that mental health is part of our overall health. Such conversations can be a gateway to meaningful change, and the holiday season feels like an especially good time to tackle the complexities and multitudes of our mental health.
Living with a mood disorder means deliberately seeking out small sparks of joy. On moving through cycles of moping, coping, and hoping during the holiday season.
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.
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For 15 years, I hid my mental illness from the world, terrified that if anyone should find out my secret, my life as I knew it – the family I had fought for, the friends I had surrounded myself with, the career I was building – would be over.
My self-stigma and shame were overwhelming, thinking that living with mental illness made me broken and defective. My fear of stigma from others was enormous, fearing prejudice and discrimination that would inevitably (in my mind) come from any disclosure about my bipolar disorder.
When a student at the school where I was working died by suicide, and the school’s answer was to ask the school community not to talk about suicide “out of respect for the family,” I saw the effects that silence around issues of mental health and mental illness can have. The students got the message that mental illness and suicide are not acceptable and should be hidden. I knew I had to do something. So, I began to share my story – my struggles as a student, wrestling with suicidal ideation, undergoing treatments like electroconvulsive therapy, medications, and talk therapy – in the hopes that my sharing could help restart the conversation at that school and make mental illness part of the conversation.
Fear of disclosure
I was terrified to share my story. I didn’t know how my colleagues, my superiors, and my students would take my admissions of living with a serious mental illness. Would they lose respect for me? Would they choose to distance themselves from me once they knew? But opening up was also a huge weight off my shoulders – I would no longer have to hide the struggle that was such a huge part of my existence. I could finally bring my whole self to work, where I spent one-third of my life. Sharing my story was not without its risks, but it also stood to bring great benefits.
The first time that I told my story, I was met with overwhelming love and support from my community. It did indeed start the conversation in a meaningful and productive way. It was my students who dubbed me the “StigmaCrusher,” and after I got that first taste of success in reducing stigma and inspiring change, I couldn’t stop. It felt so empowering and freeing to be open about my mental illness. It still does, every time I share my story.
When I share my story in person, I tend to get a lot of support and very little challenge. But sharing it in print (particularly online) opens me up to a lot of keyboard warriors who do not hesitate to share their uninformed views of my experience with me. As difficult as it is, the best thing to do is to ignore these prejudiced and ignorant comments as baseless. Even as I try to educate and crush stigma, there are some comments that are just not worth replying to. My lived experience is just that – mine, and I am the expert.
Contact – having genuine interactions with a person with lived experience of mental illness – is the single best way to combat stigma, according to research, and so sharing my story is necessary. But it is not for everyone, every time. In the 12 years that I have been speaking and writing about my experiences with mental illness, I have received my share of negative, stigmatizing, and ignorant feedback. Here is a sample of what I regularly deal with, and how it affects me:
Common responses
“You’re just a slave to Big Pharma.”
Big Pharma is a bit of a boogeyman for people with lived experience of mental illness. In the current medical context in the Western world, medication is the first-line treatment for most mental illnesses, often first prescribed by a family physician with no specialized training. It is the first, best hope for feeling better, but it comes with unwanted side effects and long wait times to see if it is going to work or not. The decision to try medication is often fraught (I know it was for me) and is a defining moment in the struggle with one’s mental health, and so this comment (and other criticisms around medication) can be difficult to take.
“Psychiatry is a sham, and you are just buying into it.”
I get this feedback a lot. There is a whole antipsychiatry subculture that comes out of the woodwork when I share my experiences with treatment for mental illness. When I was new to telling my story, I spent a lot of time and energy justifying the project of psychiatry and my place in it as a patient, but for the antipsychiatry crowd, these justifications fall on deaf ears, so I have given up.
“ECT (electroconvulsive therapy) is barbaric, and you are an idiot for letting them do that to you.”
ECT caused permanent brain damage in me, unfortunately, but it also saved my life. I used to spend a lot of time trying to educate commentators about the modern use of ECT in psychiatry, but now I realize that I am never going to change their minds and just let folks have their say.
“You’re crazy, and they let you adopt a baby?? Isn’t that unfair to the child?”
This is the comment that hurts the most, because my mental health was part of the equation when we were adopting my son. I chose not to carry a child because I did not want to risk passing my bipolar disorder on. So, when we decided we wanted to have a child, adoption was the natural choice. Throughout the process, I was assessed and reassessed for fitness due to my mental illness. I had to have written attestations from my psychiatrist and my therapist stating that, in their opinions, I was fit to parent. And like any parent, I constantly wonder whether I am doing it well (because children do not come with a manual). So, this is a bit of a tender spot for me, and when commentators poke at it, it is raw. Parenting is an ever-present topic of conversation in my therapy sessions because it is such a big part of my life, but I also counter these types of comments by intentionally spending time with my son and seeing what an amazing kid he is.
“If you are working through your episodes, then you are obviously not that bad. There are a lot of people who are worse off than you.”
I have always been very “high functioning,” which for me looks like being able to continue to work (or study) even when I am very unwell. I completed my PhD in between hospitalizations and ECT treatment. I worked through ketamine therapy and only took two weeks off when I had my deep-brain stimulator implanted. I struggle mightily, but I get the accommodations I need to still manage to do what I need to do to get through at work, even if I collapse into a heap as soon as work is done. Even as I write these sentences, I am feeling the need to justify myself. Having someone – particularly someone who doesn’t even know me – judge how badly I am or am not doing is hard, especially when I am not doing well. There is always going to be someone worse off than me, but that does not negate my suffering in any way. (Also, it’s not a competition).
Swift response
I have been fortunate not to lose friends or employment after I disclosed my mental illness. People do, but I have not. But I have had to grow a bit of a thicker skin to ward off the stigmatizing and ignorant comments that, unchecked, can worsen my mental health. I have had to strike a balance. In the wise words of Taylor Swift – “haters gonna hate…I’m just gonna shake it off.” Most often, my story elicits others to share their own or their loved ones’ experiences of mental illness and prompts good and well-meaning questions about my lived experience. Most people are kind and genuinely curious. It is an overall positive experience, sharing my story, and it has done a lot of good.
Author: Jessica Ward-King, BSc, PhD, is a mental health advocate who blends academic expertise and lived experience and writes regularly for The Catalyst.
Illustrator: Kasia Niton – https://sunnystreet.studio/ Instagram: @sunnystreet.studio
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The 16 Days of Activism Against Gender-based Violence is an annual international campaign that begins on November 25, the International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women, and goes until December 10, Human Rights Day.
When Joshua Hopkins learned that his older sister and two other Renfrew County women were murdered in one of the worst incidents of intimate partner violence in Canada’s history, the news was too shocking for him to process.
As more information emerged in the aftermath of the September 2015 murders of Nathalie Warmerdam, Anastasia Kuzyk, and Carol Culleton—by a former partner to all three—Hopkins, despite his numbness, pain and disbelief, did have one crystal clear realization.
“It really should not have taken my sister’s murder for me to understand how misogyny and domestic violence affect the society that’s around us,” he says. “I think, often, when men hear the terms ‘domestic violence’ or ‘violence against women’, it sounds like a women’s issue, but it’s not.”
Gender-based violence (GBV) and intimate partner violence (IPV) are increasingly being seen in a new light, one that re-frames the violence as a systemic issue that we have a shared responsibility to prevent. And, in response, men are stepping up by establishing initiatives to address these issues and owning the crucial role they play in changing a culture that helps sanction gender-based violence.
“It’s so important for us, as men, to act as allies,” says Hopkins, an acclaimed opera baritone. “We have to stop putting blame on the victims and focus the lens on the abusers, which, statistically, are mostly men. We need to focus on why men are so angry.”
For his part, Hopkins worked with composer and pianist Jake Heggie and poet/author Margaret Atwood to create Songs for Murdered Sisters, a song cycle that underscores how these murders are part of a pattern of violence, not only individual tragedies. The song cycle has been performed live in multiple venues, including a sold-out performance at Carnegie Hall earlier this year. A Juno-nominated album version and a film version are also available through the initiative’s website.
Despite an increased number of organizations working to prevent gender-based violence, it’s still prevalent in Canada. According to Statistics Canada, more than two-thirds of solved homicides of women and girls between 2009 and 2022 were gender-related. The past decade has seen an increase in gender-related violence, and 2022 saw an unprecedented 184 Canadian women and girls murdered—mainly by men. Nova Scotia, British Columbia, New Brunswick, and more than 100 municipalities in Ontario have recently declared gender-based violence an epidemic.
Benefits for men
As with many forms of abuse, intersectional identities play a role. Indigenous women and girls, newcomers, racialized and marginalized women, 2SLGBTQI+, non-binary people, women with disabilities, and women in remote and rural communities have an elevated risk of experiencing GBV. Preventing violence against vulnerable populations is a matter of human rights and a fundamental component of building an inclusive society.
Leading the charge to address this public health crisis are a number of well-established Canadian projects and organizations including the Courage to Act Foundation and initiatives run by the Canadian Women’s Foundation, as well as an increasing number of initiatives led by men, including Men &, White Ribbon, and Next Gen Men, all of which emphasize the crucial role men have to play in preventing GBV. And some of the organizers say that participants are often surprised to learn that the work that goes into changing the culture of masculinity has plenty of benefits for men.
“Men’s mental health is an entry point for having a conversation about how we can challenge and break down the systems that are harming everyone,” says Next Gen Men’s Trevor Mayoh.
“Over one-third of men will not talk about mental health in the workplace because they feel like their job could be at risk,” he explains. “Men tend not to take proactive care of their health generally. Instead of going to a doctor when a problem starts, they’re more likely to hold out until it gets bad.”
Mayoh associates this inability to admit vulnerability—a key trait in what some call “classic masculinity”—with epidemic health problems that disproportionately impact men, including opioid overdoses, chronic loneliness, social isolation, and suicide deaths. Roughly 75 percent of people in Canada who die by suicide are men, according to research from the Mental Health Commission of Canada.
“We have this culture that absolutely does privilege men, albeit, looking at it through an intersectional lens, some men more than others,” says Mayoh. “That same culture is quite literally killing men too, though, so men have skin in the game and a key role to play in terms of dismantling the patriarchy.”
Messages about the patriarchy and privilege, he notes, aren’t always easy for men to accept when they’re struggling with pain, stress, and family crises. To encourage meaningful conversations about rethinking masculinity, organizers have found it’s often helpful to create men-only spaces where they can feel safe and comfortable with making mistakes and being “messy.”
Through Next Gen Men’s extensive work, the organization has found that the two primary things holding men back are a fear of getting things wrong and the fear of being cancelled. When they’re in a room with people who look and sound like them, it can feel safer.
“This shift has to happen on a peer-to-peer level,” says Mayoh. “It’s not going to come from driving down the street and seeing a billboard saying, ‘Don’t hit someone’; It’s going to actually come from when a friend in a locker room or in the car says, ‘Hey, that’s not funny.’”
Meaningful change
Men taking an active role in the prevention of gender-based violence, then, is essential. One notable instance of this is Rita St. Gelais, a licensed psychotherapist working with men in Alberta who have a history of abuse and are looking to change their behaviours.
“If you’re going to address domestic violence and try to end it, you need to go to the source, which is the people who are choosing violent behaviours,” says St. Gelais. “However important it is to work with people who experience domestic violence, we’re not going to end it that way.”
Most of the resources allocated to support people in violent relationships are, quite understandably, earmarked for people who have experienced violence. Getting serious about stopping a cycle of violence requires investing in the people who want to change, though.
“I think there’s a strong stereotype that these people are monsters consumed by rage at all times,” St. Gelais explains. “If you can see them as people and move past that initial gut reaction, meet them where they’re at and give them dignity and respect while maintaining dignity and respect for the people that they’ve hurt, then it’s possible to help people who want to change.”
It’s a big job, one that involves a lot of dark and heavy material. It can be so emotionally taxing, in fact, that it prompted her to found an initiative called Two Chairs, which aims to make it easier for therapists to get therapy. People working in this space need to prioritize self-care, but, as St. Gelais explains, sometimes those who preach the importance of caring for themselves don’t take their own best advice.
Despite the emotional toll, St. Gelais finds her work deeply fulfilling. It’s also deeply necessary. When the Renfrew County inquest into the triple murder committed finally concluded in 2022, several of the 86 recommendations for change involved therapeutic interventions for men with similar histories to Basil Borutski, the convicted murderer of three who died in prison in 2024.
“Basil was in and out of jail for various assaults within the course of his life, but it didn’t change his behaviour,” says Joshua Hopkins, noting that Borutski was ordered by the courts to enroll in an anger management program but skirted it.
Many advocates, folks at risk and families of victims have called for profound changes to the justice and carceral systems, noting that they lack resources to prevent gender-based violence. Some even question the carceral approach and advocate for early education programs, projects to change the culture of masculinity, and investing in mental health supports.
“This idea that we’re just throwing men into jail without some kind of rehabilitation or being able to teach them a better way of dealing with their anger and stress, isn’t going to bring change,” he continues. “Programs that deal with this issue and are able to make real change are vital.”
Further reading and resources: The Manosphere and Mental Health.
Author: Christine Sismondo writes about personal and public health and other contemporary social issues from her office in Toronto.
Illustrator: Kasia Niton – https://sunnystreet.studio/ Instagram: @sunnystreet.studio
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Financial literacy in these times must encompass emotional awareness, in addition to budgeting skills. This type of education would allow people to consider the intersecting and overlapping factors that inform their decision-making and their futures. This is what the Money & Mental Health series aims to do – inform people about the connections between their wallets and their well-being. This year’s theme is focused on new literacies for new times. So far, we talked about:
o Week One: Consistently talking about inconsistency. Generational preoccupation and disillusionment.
o Week Two: Financial dystopia and distress. What happens when traditional milestones are out of reach and online temptations take people off track?
In this series closer, we delve into tactics for today, organized under ABCs, so that we can find a way to keep our financial anxieties to a minimum in this age of uncertainty.
A—Advice
Everybody’s probably run across at least one “money matters” story that leads with the hopeful notion that some goal, be it home ownership, retirement, or raising a family, isn’t as far out of reach as many people in Canada think. As we scan down the page for the magic advice, the heart starts to sink. It turns out that all our dreams can come true, but only if we happen to have enough spare money lying around to invest in financial products at a rate of about $150 per week.
For anyone struggling to make their minimum payments every month, advice like this doesn’t just miss the mark; it’s also likely to trigger fresh financial anxieties and possibly even a touch of despair. For that reason, it’s important to remember that, when it comes to money, there’s no one-size-fits-all solution, even if that TikTok reel you’re watching is promising easy answers for all people, whether their income is great or small.
A lot of financial advice also offers purely individualistic solutions and fails to mention the many factors that are beyond our control. Everything from where we live to who our parents are and when we were born has a massive impact on how much we’ll earn over a lifetime. It’s much harder for young people to buy a house or raise a family than it was for previous generations, largely due to a few compounding factors: an increasing income gap, more people in Canada engaged in precarious work, and an affordability crisis caused by the rising cost of living.
Given all this, it’s clear that not all financial advice is created equal and that some of the conventional wisdom about saving and budgeting simply doesn’t apply to everyone –– especially not to younger generations.
“If you compare your situation to your parents, you might feel like a failure. It’s just different – that is the difficult part,” says Jessica Moorhouse, whose popular “More Money Podcast” has made her Canada’s “go-to money expert.”
Hustle culture
There are unique challenges facing every generation, but finding a job is high on the list of problems younger adults have today. Currently, youth unemployment is hovering around the rates seen in periods of severe economic crisis, such as the recession after the stock market crash in 2008.
The most recent figures (from July 2025) indicate that the youth unemployment rate (15 to 24 years old) was 12.6 percent, the highest rate since 2010, excluding the first years of the pandemic. That number is based on people who are currently seeking work, as opposed to engaged full-time in a post-secondary program or unable to work for other reasons.
The youth employment rate tells another story, namely that the percentage of younger adults who are actively working has tumbled to less than 54 percent — the lowest level since the late 1990s, when members of Generation X were trying to find a way to get a foot in the door.
There are likely a number of factors in play, notably economic uncertainty related to the imposition of tariffs on some Canadian exports and, in addition, a slowdown in hirings for entry-level jobs that’s the result of speculation that AI (artificial intelligence) may be able to replace some junior positions. Given all this, it’s hardly surprising that some younger adults have begun to feel that developmental milestones, such as home ownership, starting a family, or retirement, are unattainable.
“Gen Z tends to cope with humour and bravado,” says Serena Dawson, a 19-year-old who lives in Ontario and is currently taking a gap year (name changed to protect anonymity). “We are living in a ‘hustle culture’ where a lack of work-life balance is praised. Hashtags about ‘grinding’ are trending, and influencers make videos about their 5 AM to 12 AM workdays, spanning multiple jobs. Other common slang includes ‘hustle,’ ‘grind,’ and ‘get that bread.’”
Dawson continues: “Since so many people are struggling financially, the relatability of these online accounts and the ‘motivational’ conversations about our work ethic help us feel less alone in our anxiety, depression, and lack of sleep.”
The antidote to all of this, she says, is to work on creating community and finding ways to share the experiences and anxieties that come from working 17-hour days and still somehow struggling to pay the rent.
Jessica Moorhouse suggests being candid about the systemic problems that are making it hard for younger folks to make ends meet, but, at the same time, sharing positive things that can give you hope.
“You have to find the silver linings for yourself,” says Moorhouse. “It’s important to try to find something to give you the drive to pursue and improve your financial situation, despite what the world is telling you, and carve your own path. What’s the alternative, giving up?”
B—Boring
Sure, that friend building a social media empire might appear to have discovered a really exciting and glamorous way to get rich overnight, but, in reality, the best paths to financial security often sound pretty dull. That’s why Moorhouse espouses the “get rich slowly” approach.
“Keep it boring, keep it simple,” she says. “That will keep you grounded and keep you on your path. Let me tell you, I’ve talked to a number of people over the years who went to some extremes to achieve FIRE (Financial Independence, Retire Early), only to realize when they finally reached that milestone, they still weren’t happy.”
Moorhouse says that going all-in on becoming a millionaire by the age of 30 might sound great, but it has serious limitations, since it might keep people from pursuing other important things, such as education and/or creating close connections with friends, family, and members of the community. So, instead, work on the basics.
“Make a plan, start investing early, look for low fees,” Moorhouse advises. “Start small, set up that foundation and be consistent – that’s the thing.”
Low fees might sound like a particularly boring topic (even for financial advice), but it’s a crucial and often overlooked aspect of growing a nest egg. Since the fees appear negligible, people overlook factors like the MER (management expense ratio), not realizing that some funds sold through a range of financial institutions have fees high enough to drain any potential for growth. Beat the Bank: The Canadian Guide to Simply Successful Investing, by former banker Larry Bates, provides a thorough overview of the issue, along with tips on finding alternatives.
Although some evidence suggests Gen Z is investing at a younger age than previous generations, any gains made from early investment could be easily undone by buying products that don’t deliver decent dividends. At its core, this is an equity issue, since, statistically, wealthier people get better returns on their investments and, on the flip side, pay lower interest rates. Although this disparity generator is built into the current personal finance system and is hard to avoid, basic financial literacy should be an essential starting point for everyone, so they can grasp just how much money is at stake with high interest rates and fees.
“Financial education isn’t something one receives in public school, but learning about the basics of investment through free resources can open your eyes to many opportunities,” says Serena Dawson. “I know a few people in my generation who invest a small amount of money each month – from $50 to $100, whatever they can spare – and it provides some growth for them.”
One final dull way to beat financial anxieties is to open a “boring business.” Whether it’s a side hustle or a career for life, running a landscaping business, house-cleaning service, or snow-removal company can provide a steady income. None of these services are likely to be automated and replaced by AI anytime soon, either, so it’s a good bet for the future.
C—Carve Your Own Path, Care, Community, Communicate
A recent uptick in interest in boring businesses, as well as Gen Z’s side-hustle culture, might well be the first rumblings of a future boom in entrepreneurship in Canada.
Historically, people who have been locked out of the traditional job market (usually due to discriminatory practices based on gender, ethnicity, disability, sexual identity, or age) have turned to entrepreneurship. Serena Dawson says that one answer to problems in the job market is to redefine work-life.
“Alternative forms of work are very popular with Gen Z,” says Dawson. “Even pursuing a side hustle based on an interest is a way of incorporating joy into work life and makes non-stop work a little more bearable.”
We may also see more people redefining home life, as fewer younger adults can afford to live on their own, even with the recent cooling of the housing market, which has finally seen rental units come down in price.
A recent Maclean’s article, “Why Gen Z Will Never Leave the Nest,” explored the phenomenon of folks staying with their parents and noted that the intriguing thing is that many don’t seem to frame it as a “failure” to launch. Instead, people are celebrating the social support dividends that can come from intergenerational living – as well, of course, as the fact that everyone saves money.
Gen Z has proven frugal in other ways, too. Second-hand shopping and thrifting may look like a quirky trend, but it’s rooted in a move away from spending too much money on environmentally unsustainable products, such as fast furniture that has dominated living rooms and, later, landfills for decades.
All of this, in a way, is about self-care. We may think of self-care as spa days or retail therapy, but the deepest level of self-care is really about making some effort to look after Future You. And it’s a big part of the answer for younger adults who may be worried about AI, trade wars, the rising cost of living, and a bleak job market.
“Practice self-care religiously and unapologetically,” says Serena Dawson. “With limited time to rest, the unaffordable prices of housing, food, and entertainment, it’s hard to take care of ourselves these days.”
Dawson continues: “We’re all under extreme stress, and without government action and legislation created for the common person, we won’t be able to change that reality. So, it’s especially important to care for oneself and each other and to find ways to de-stress.
“Lean on your support system and share a meal with a neighbour; talk to your friends openly and honestly; turn to your faith for guidance. And for the love of all things holy, nourish your body! In a world that divides and isolates us, the most important thing we can do is to care for ourselves and to build community.”
Author: Christine Sismondo contributes to the national conversation on policy and ideas as a writer and researcher.
This week, the “s” word is on everyone’s lips.
Did you get enough?
Overindulge?
What about quality? Better than usual, worse?
I’m talking, of course, about sleep.
In the wake of Sunday’s time change, which brings us from Daylight Saving Time to Standard Time, an already complicated topic becomes more so.
As a society, our understanding of sleep—and its impact on everything from memory to mental health—is growing. And yet, some of us still insist that eschewing sleep is a sign of productivity. The LinkedIn stars who promise billion-dollar ideas if only you can harness 20 “productive” hours in the day.
Then there are those so desperate to maximize rest that the pursuit itself becomes a vicious cycle of fatigue.
The billion dollar question – How far would you go for a good night’s sleep?
Sleep is a billion-dollar industry. In 2023, the “sleep economy” had an estimated value of over $100 billion, and that number is only projected to rise.1 Think apps and tracking rings; special alarm clocks and weighted blankets; melatonin and memory foam mattresses.
Ironically, the glorification of sleep, and its flip side, commodification, may only add to the pressure felt by those for whom sleep is a distant dream.
A shift in thinking
Sleep should be universally accessible. After all, it’s free and readily available. But that line of thinking fails to consider sleep from a health equity lens.
Think about shift workers, whose circadian rhythms are thrown out of whack as a matter of course. Many years ago my husband was a young ship’s officer. The “Dog Watch2“is a rite of passage—keeping watch on a darkened bridge from 12 a.m. to 4 a.m. every “morning,” the witching hour when staying awake is a Herculean effort, fueled by strong coffee and stale donuts. Nurses, ER docs, first responders—all are familiar with the toll taken when your body clock is at odds with the hours you punch in.
Parents of newborns will also relate.
I recall being a new mom to a preterm baby, having to set an agonizing alarm to wake her to feed every three hours, walking around in a state of debilitating exhaustion. But the implications go beyond simply being “tired.” From cognitive impairment, to emotional lability, to slower reaction times and trouble focusing—there’s a reason sleep deprivation is a form of torture.
It’s also a drain on the nation’s wallet. According to a 2022 study in Sleep Health3, insomnia and associated symptoms cost the Canadian economy about $1.9 billion. That includes direct costs like doctor’s visits, sleeping pills and therapies, and indirect costs, like reduced productivity.
So what does good sleep actually look like?
Adults need seven to nine hours of good-quality, uninterrupted sleep per night. But it’s not just about logging hours. Good sleep cycles through deep sleep and REM stages. Dr. Diana McMillan, a professor at the University of Manitoba’s College of Nursing, describes one process as a “pressure washer for the brain.” During sleep, your brain literally cleans out metabolic waste through the glymphatic system.
Most adults cycle through sleep stages every 70 to 110 minutes, ideally getting four to five complete cycles per night. While occasional insomnia is perfectly normal, if you often don’t feel rested after a full night’s snooze, the sleep you are getting may not be restorative.
How can I sleep better tonight?
For those who want better sleep—who aren’t constrained by demanding work schedules yet don’t want to turn rest into a data-driven obsession—focus on consistency. Go to bed at the same time every night and create a wind-down ritual. Make your bedroom a sleep sanctuary with clean sheets and dark blinds. Avoid alcohol before bed, as it disrupts REM sleep.
Set tech boundaries: No TV in the bedroom, and definitely no laptops or tablets in bed. Blue light tricks your brain into thinking it’s wake time. If your bedroom doubles as a home office, use a room divider to block work stress triggers.
Why do I still feel tired after eight hours?
Quality matters more than quantity. Health conditions like sleep apnea, restless leg syndrome, or anxiety disorders can hijack high-quality sleep.
Dr. Rébecca Robillard, director of clinical sleep research at the University of Ottawa, explains that even your “silent” phone might be sabotaging rest with subtle sounds that disturb restorative sleep without fully waking you. If you use your phone as an alarm, put it at a safe distance.
What about sleep-tracking technology?
Until fairly recently, our only sleep hack was counting sheep, which likely dates back to medieval shepherds.
But the advent of sophisticated sleep measurement metrics isn’t strictly a good thing. Some people develop “orthosomnia”—an obsession with sleep data that actually worsens sleep. Dr. Robillard suggests taking sleep scores “with a big grain of salt,” noting “If you feel like you slept better, you probably did.” Your body is often a better judge than your smartwatch.
But what if good sleep feels impossible?
Here’s where we need to discuss sleep equity. Not everyone has equal access to quality rest. The standard advice doesn’t apply to shift workers, new parents, or people working multiple jobs. As Dr. Robillard notes: “Telling people they need to sleep more doesn’t really resonate with a single mom who has two jobs and four kids.”
Instead of “sleep shaming,” we need to address systemic barriers. Some researchers suggest starting with daylight saving time policies, which are associated with surges in hospitalizations from accidents and self-harm.
When should I worry about my sleep?
Dr. McMillan’s rule: “If you’re having trouble sleeping or don’t feel rested after a night’s sleep for more than three months, talk to your primary care practitioner.” Poor sleep can signal underlying health conditions and lead to serious long-term consequences including cardiovascular disease, diabetes, and mental health disorders.
If basic sleep hygiene isn’t helping, consider Cognitive Behavioural Therapy for Insomnia (CBT-I). Dr. Robillard emphasizes this should be “first-line treatment” before medications.
The bottom line
From Sleeping Beauty’s hundred-year slumber to the Princess and the Pea’s quest for perfect rest, our cultural stories have long recognized that sleep is both essential and elusive.
And while we’ve evolved from counting sheep to tracking REM cycles on our wrists, the fundamental human struggle with rest remains unchanged.
Sleep is finally getting respect as a health pillar alongside nutrition and exercise. The bidirectional relationship between sleep and mental health is compelling enough that experts are calling sleep a public health priority.
But here’s the most important takeaway: be kind to yourself about sleep. Perfect sleep isn’t always possible for everyone. Focus on what you can control, seek help when needed, and remember that even small improvements make a meaningful difference.
And let’s not forget sleep’s most ancient promise.
Tomorrow, we get to try again.
Further reading: Sleep and Mental Health – what’s the connection?
- https://www.cbc.ca/radio/costofliving/sleep-economy-personal-business-costs-1.7470221
- The name itself is likely a literal translation from the Dutch or German, meaning “dog’s time.” As in only dogs should be awake at this hour.
- https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/36319579/
Author: Suzanne Westover
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At 19, Gavin Oregan had a gambling problem, even though he didn’t realize it until he was more than $30,000 in debt. He had money in the bank when he moved to Ottawa from Whitby, Ont., to attend school, and had always been responsible and disciplined about working part-time, earning, and saving money.
But away from home and surrounded by friends who gambled online, Oregan found the lure of betting sites on his phone irresistible. “It wasn’t even so much about the money,” he says, of his habitual sleep-depriving and wallet-draining sports gambling. As someone who struggles with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, or ADHD, Oregan says it was the high of winning that kept him hooked and “chasing that feeling.”
Now 21, and studying journalism at Algonquin College, Oregan says he was in a dark and isolated place back then. “None of my friends knew,” he says. “It ruined me.”
It was his father, who had access to his son’s banking information, who saw the shocking numbers and drove five hours to tell Gavin in person that he was in trouble. Then, Oregan accepted that he had an illness.
With help, Oregan overcame his addiction. “I am very fortunate,” he says now, to have a father willing to intervene and get his son back on course financially and emotionally. He says he wants to share his story in hopes that other young people in a similar situation will relate and reach out for help.
“Don’t be afraid to admit the problem and go talk to someone,” he advises. A therapist guided him to understand how his ADHD interfered with his decision-making moment to moment. He learned cognitive tools to get through the times when the craving for the adrenaline rush of gambling becomes overwhelming.
“I do get the urge. It lasts 20 seconds,” Oregan says. He found tools to use during those times. “The therapist said, ‘phone someone,’ do something else.’”
Gavin Oregan says it wasn’t even about the money. “I was chasing that feeling.” Debt, gambling, and anxiety are weighing heavily on Gen Z—caught between economic pressures and digital temptations that older generations never faced.
Oregan has found the support he received from both his therapist and people he’s met at the weekly meeting of Gamblers Anonymous invaluable. He works part-time as a grocery store manager and, with the help of his family, has been able to pay off most of his debt. Now, he’s trying to maintain a more balanced lifestyle and tries to take breaks between working and worrying about having enough money. Keeping busy with school, work, and going to the gym has been useful, but Oregan says he realizes now, “you can’t be busy all the time.”
Financial traps
According to research done by Gaming, Gambling and Technology Use (GGTU), part of the Centre for Addiction and Mental Health (CAMH) education department, “Young people aged 10 to 24 years have higher rates of problem gambling than adults.”
Through social media, young people are more exposed to new forms of gambling content than older people. The “high” of winning may help alleviate anxiety and depression in the short term, but it can lead to mental health issues if not recognized as an addiction.
Studies have shown that males in particular are susceptible to advertising and peer pressure encouraging them to engage in sports betting of the kind that hooked Oregan.
The impact on mental health can be severe, according to research. One study showed that adolescents with gambling problems have also been found to have significantly higher rates of suicidal ideation and attempts than non-gamblers and social gamblers.
Interventions are crucial. As Oregan recognizes, he was lucky to have a family that confronted him about his problem and helped him get his debts paid and find effective interventions such as therapy and peer-group support.
It isn’t just easy access to online gambling that is getting more young adults into financial trouble. The increasing gap between wages and the cost of living, along with high youth unemployment rates and a lack of affordable housing, makes it easier than ever to get into debt.
As of 2025, approximately 56 percent of Canadian youth aged 18 to 29 are projected to carry some form of debt, revealing significant insights into the financial landscape of young Canadians, according to a 2024 Statistics Canada report by James Gauthier and Carter McCormack.
The cost of carrying debt has also increased for young people, according to Gauthier and McCormack. “Among those less than 35 years of age, the ratio of interest costs to disposable income rose 2.4 percentage points to 9.7 percent in 2023.
Essentially, young households spent 10 cents of every dollar earned towards servicing their debt, up from around seven cents in 2022.
Student loans, credit card debt, and personal loans are the most common types of debt among young people, according to the report. It is simply harder for young people to make ends meet today; anxiety goes along with economic uncertainty at any age, but it is particularly acute for young adults with less financial literacy, who are trying to build their lives on a solid financial foundation.
The findings echo the experiences and outlook of young people like Serena Dawson (not her real name), who is taking a gap year at age 19, as she tries to plan her future under circumstances vastly different than those of older generations, whose advice she finds outdated.
“By the time they reached their mid-20s, our parents and grandparents were settling into jobs that they would keep for decades, planning to buy homes, and starting families,” Dawson observes. “Now, young adults work part-time jobs well into their 20s and 30s, even if they have a post-secondary education. Buying a home is simply not possible for most with rising housing costs and day-to-day expenses taking over people’s entire budgets – so we continue to rent, without the opportunity to invest in property.”
Dawson also points out that economic uncertainty is causing many more young people to delay or forego parenthood altogether. Mental health can suffer when expectation and reality are so dramatically far apart.
Oregan agrees with Dawson – Gen Z is struggling. “A hundred per cent of young people are feeling the pinch,” he says of his friends and fellow students, who often work two or more part-time jobs while trying to pursue post-secondary education. “Everyone’s tired.”
Tuition, public transportation, and housing costs keep increasing, while wages do not. “I look at the cost of living and I don’t think I’ll ever own a home,” says Oregan.
Finding solutions
Helping young people navigate the tricky world of personal finance in difficult economic times will require action on many levels. Statistics Canada’s report suggests it’s going to take “financial education, accessible debt relief options, and supportive policies from both the government and financial institutions.”
Despite all the financial challenges young people face, Oregan says he tries not to be too pessimistic about the future and feels hopeful about pursuing his career goals in sports journalism. He supports efforts to lower housing and public transit costs for students. He also wishes that sports organizations would re-examine their gambling policies to keep fans from falling into dangerous betting habits.
Most of all, he’d like to see mental-health support and therapy become more accessible and affordable to people in his age group. “It really does help to open up and talk to someone.”
Further reading: New Literacies for New Times: Money and mental health are intrinsically linked.
Guide: Where to Get Mental Health Care in Canada: A guide to Navigating Public and Private Options.
Resources:
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When we first launched the Money and Mental Health series in 2023, we underlined the link between our pockets and our perspectives. Then, the focus was the housing crisis and the rising cost of living—issues that remain just as pressing in 2025. Add to that fresh anxieties about artificial intelligence and tariffs reshaping both the job market and our bank accounts.
To better understand the issues, The Catalyst is examining four themes over four weeks, emphasizing the tools needed for individuals to cope with their money worries and mental health challenges. We speak to experts on the two topics—and sometimes, those people are one and the same.
In some jurisdictions, financial therapists are certified in both wealth-building and the emotional aspects of budgeting, or to support linked issues such as gambling. Elsewhere, some financial professionals have jumped into therapeutic practice – and many mental health clinicians are incorporating financial issues into their practices.
In Canada, Jessica Moorhouse touches on the emotional aspects of money in her book Everything but Money: The Hidden Barriers Between You and Financial Freedom (Collins, 2024), which offers hopeful and helpful tips. The author and Certified Financial Counsellor is known as a millennial money expert, which, she says, used to connote “young person,” but not so much now as that cohort edges into their 40s. Their entry into and through adulthood has always been beset by challenges.
“It can feel like we’re having the same conversations,” she says. “It’s hard to pinpoint a time when things were not chaotic – it’s a generation that is getting used to a state of constant change with a baseline of anxiety.”
Jessica Moorhouse, author and Certified Financial Counsellor, focuses on wallets and well-being and what happens when they collide.
In recent years, there has been a global pandemic, rising costs of living, stagnating wages, geopolitical uncertainty, and tariffs, to name a few things. “We’ve been consistently talking about inconsistency since 2020,” Moorhouse notes, saying that millennials, in particular, are primed to wonder when the next big global shift is going to hit them.
For Gen Z, these experiences are baked in, and they have an extensive associated vocabulary, Moorhouse says. Consider the term “Menty B,” used widely on social media. “This is freaky to have shorthand slang for a mental breakdown,” she says. “That’s a concern – that it’s just normal to have anxiety, or to not be able to get up in the morning. There is a sense that you’re supposed to laugh it off, make a TikTok, and go to work.”
It carries a sense of solidarity among a generation struggling with financial disillusionment. They believe the system is broken because wages are not keeping up with the cost of living, and housing prices are too high.
It’s a heavy burden. Research indicates that economic conditions and related factors, including unemployment and poverty, can significantly impact suicide rates. Moorhouse highlights a study from the UK-based Money and Mental Health Policy Institute, which shows that 46 percent of people in debt have a mental health issue, and 86 percent of survey participants said their financial situation worsened their mental health problems and led to increased stress and anxiety. Likewise, 18 percent of individuals with mental health issues fall into debt, with 72 percent reporting that their mental health problems worsened their financial situation, creating a never-ending cycle.
Serena Dawson (a pseudonym), 19, observes some of these issues within her social circle. She lives in a major city in Ontario and is taking a gap year while working multiple jobs. She and many of her friends consider retirement a myth because of the astronomical cost of living and wages that don’t cover shelter expenses in nearly every city in Canada; they feel that policymakers are unaware of how to reform the system to benefit young people.
“Most young adults have at least three jobs, and I know people with up to six jobs,” she says. “One job doesn’t provide enough to meet basic needs, so people supplement with additional part-time jobs, contract work, and operating side hustles such as baking businesses out of their homes.”
Working all the time with competing commitments leaves little time for socializing or sleep, she says. “The toll on mental health is heavy. Conversations about anxiety, depression, and chronic health issues are everyday occurrences.”
Hustle, anxiety, repeat
The usual antidote to economic woes has traditionally been self-improvement. However, for many, traditional paths to advancement — like higher education — no longer feel worthwhile. Degrees don’t always guarantee jobs or stability, raising doubts about whether the investment pays off.
This confluence of conditions is something seemingly distinct to Generation Z. Psychology Today characterized this generation’s grief as one about unattainable developmental milestones, such as starting a family, owning a home, or retiring with financial stability.
“The disappearance of additional cultural anchor points, such as affordable education, a shared sense of truth, and community cohesion, only deepens the distress.”
For millennials, there was a different framing of their challenges with putting bread on the table.
“It was annoying to see the characterization that we’re lazy, avocado-toast-over spenders,” Moorhouse says. “We have three jobs! If we weren’t going to figure it out, we wouldn’t have three jobs – we would just give up.”
In this regard, traditional financial advice falls flat. This generation and those that follow are inheriting a different set of rules than their parents or grandparents did.
“Boomers, especially, did have a lot of privilege and gains on their homes,” Moorhouse notes, “and they took it as a baseline – as if everyone can afford a house or get a job at an executive level without advanced degrees. There was a big shift after that generation. You just can’t get that anymore.”
From debt to despair and back again – rethinking financial advice
The idea for this series grew out of young people’s perspectives—those finishing high school, launching careers, or trying to find footing in a shifting economy. Their common refrain: financial dystopia and distress. Stable jobs, home ownership, and retirement feel out of reach, with early setbacks snowballing into lifelong hurdles. Economists call this “scarring.” We ask: What are the mental health impacts, and what policy shifts are needed?
Whether you view artificial intelligence as an opportunity or an extinction event, its propulsion marks an inflection point in our society, and its impacts on the job market are playing out in real time. How do we build resilience—personally and collectively—while weaving psychological health and safety into economic policy?
As the world changes, what advice and tips do we need now? How can financial literacy be connected to emotional awareness as linked concepts? We ask practitioners and people with lived experience for their strategies.
Watch for the entire series published in October and November 2025 for Financial Literacy Month in The Catalyst, the magazine of the Mental Health Commission of Canada. Follow us on LinkedIn to see new articles and resources.
Further reading: Housing First – What’s Next?
Resource: Mental Health and the High Cost of Living Policy Brief
Author: Fateema Sayani doesn’t overspend on avocado toast. She makes her own at home and researches and writes regularly in The Catalyst.
The statistics are staggering, but they represent real human lives: 117 million people worldwide have been forcibly displaced from their homes due to war, famine, and other horrific conditions. To put this in perspective, that’s four times the number displaced during the Second World War. At this year’s International Association for Suicide Prevention conference, experts gathered to address a critical question: How do we support the mental health of those who have lost everything?
The Scale of the Crisis
The numbers tell only part of the story. Two-thirds of asylum seekers find refuge not in wealthy nations like Canada, but in low and middle-income countries that often lack the resources to meet their overwhelming needs. These displaced populations face a perfect storm of challenges: shrinking settlement options, limited support services, and a desperate shortage of culturally appropriate care.
For many refugees, the trauma doesn’t end when they reach safety. Prolonged exposure to violence, separation from loved ones, and the uncertainty of displacement create conditions where suicidal thoughts and behaviours become tragically common. Yet we lack comprehensive data on suicide within displacement camps, partly because refugees often fear that reporting mental health struggles could jeopardize their immigration prospects or those of their families.
Understanding Complex Needs
The mental health challenges facing refugees extend far beyond clinical symptoms. Families torn apart by circumstance may find themselves scattered across different camps or even different countries. The trauma manifests differently across demographics and cultures, requiring nuanced responses rather than one-size-fits-all solutions.
Men often struggle most with feelings of powerlessness, finding healing through employment opportunities that restore their sense of purpose and ability to provide for their families. Women face distinct vulnerabilities, including protection from violence while trying to create stability and hope for their children. Children, who make up approximately 40% of all refugees, grapple with profound losses: family members, security, and often their childhood itself.
It bears repeating what should be obvious but sometimes gets lost in clinical discussions: even the most sophisticated mental health interventions fail without access to basic necessities like food, water, and medicine.
Despite overwhelming challenges, the conference revealed inspiring examples of both systematic programs and grassroots innovations making real differences in refugees’ lives.
Structured Interventions
Throughout the conference, we heard about promising practices being implemented systematically across different countries and innovative, grassroots initiatives being spontaneously enacted to respond to specific local needs. The World Health Organization’s “Problem Management Plus” program trains refugee volunteers to deliver brief cognitive behavioural therapy interventions, creating a sustainable model that builds community capacity while addressing immediate needs.
Similarly, the “Contact and Safety Planning” (CASP) program offers a cost-effective approach: screening to identify those at highest suicide risk, then working directly with these individuals to develop personalized safety plans.
Community-Led Solutions
The most enheartening stories emerged from refugees themselves. Across displacement sites, people are organizing healing and listening circles for those sharing common experiences or challenges. Religious leaders, teachers, and sports coaches are stepping up to support overstretched health professionals. Women are training other women in low-intensity interventions to help those who cannot access care, conducting check-ins via WhatsApp, and providing peer support through text messages.
These organic solutions represent more than resourcefulness; they embody a fundamental truth that conference speakers repeatedly emphasized: refugees are resilient, understand their own needs, and possess valuable insights about healing and recovery.
Redefining Support
A central theme emerged throughout the discussions: supporting refugee mental health requires a power shift from traditional top-down service delivery. Effective interventions must be co-designed with refugee populations, ensuring cultural relevance and community buy-in. Many of the most impactful programs are also surprisingly low-cost, challenging assumptions about resource-intensive treatment models.
But perhaps the most important insight that stuck with me concerns our fundamental approach. After experiencing profound inhumanity throughout their journeys, refugees encounter a critical moment when receiving support: our response can either compound their dehumanization or offer compassion, care, and genuine connection. In a world that has shown them cruelty, our interactions become opportunities to demonstrate that humanity still exists.
Lessons for Canada
How can Canada apply these international insights to strengthen our own refugee support systems?
Stability as Foundation: Following tremendous upheaval and uncertainty, refugees need predictability. Offering permanent status rather than temporary measures provides crucial emotional stability during recovery.
Eliminating Barriers: We must address inequitable access to services, including waiting periods for health coverage that leave vulnerable populations without essential care during critical adjustment periods.
Shifting Public Narrative: Public education campaigns should help Canadians understand the global humanitarian crisis and reframe refugees not as burdens, but as resilient individuals deserving of support and capable of tremendous contributions to our communities.
A Call for Compassion
The refugee mental health crisis demands more than policy responses; it requires a fundamental commitment to recognizing the humanity in every displaced person. As we’ve learned from innovative programs worldwide, the most effective interventions often spring from refugees themselves, given proper support and respect for their expertise about their own experiences.
Globally, we can and must do better. The question isn’t whether we have the resources to support 117 million displaced people; it’s whether we have the collective will to demonstrate that compassion and human dignity remain powerful forces in our world.
Author: Karla Thorpe, Vice President, Programs and Priorities, Mental Health Commission of Canada
There were so many people waiting to meet Max, but only his father and I got to see and hold him. For his older brother Henry, our extended family and friends, and especially for his younger brother, Simon—who came later—it could easily feel like Max didn’t exist. But he did exist. Max was born on August 30, 2014.
Eleven years ago, Krista Beneš was a working mom with a healthy two-year-old and a busy life. Her second pregnancy was progressing exactly as expected until Krista noticed a decrease in the baby’s movement.
My OBGYN did a quick scan. We saw the baby moving, and I felt reassured. Later that week, though, something continued to bother me. I remember driving to the Ottawa Civic Hospital to have it checked out. My husband, Kris, offered to come, but he was working, and I’d already started maternity leave. I said I’d call him after we got the all-clear.
When an ultrasound didn’t detect the baby’s heartbeat, I went into shock. I couldn’t fathom how the outcome we’d imagined—this vision of our healthy baby and the life we’d have together—could be taken away so abruptly. Kris rushed to my side. The induction commenced, and I laboured, listening to other babies being born, knowing I would never hear Max’s cries. The delivery process took two days.
We’d spent weeks preparing Max’s room, painting a navy-and-white accent wall, arranging all the cozy touches. Everything was set to welcome him home. Instead, Max was born still at 38 weeks.
Kris and I held him for what felt like only a few fleeting moments. Our hospital room was marked with a butterfly to signify what had happened. A volunteer photographer came, which struck me at the time as a terrible idea—why would somebody want to take photos of my dead baby? But now, I cherish those remembrance portraits. Max was loved. He still is.
Big brothers Simon and Henry pay tribute to Max.
You move so quickly, from expecting to celebrate a brand-new baby to planning their funeral. Kris and I had never even thought about where we were going to be buried. Now, we had to decide for Max. The situation tested our spiritual beliefs in an impossibly immediate way. All I knew for sure was that I couldn’t leave my baby all alone.
We found a place with Max’s great-grandparents, not far from where I grew up. It is a familiar space, close enough to home. With the support of family and friends, we got through it. There were weeks and weeks of meal drop-offs, flower deliveries, house-cleaning services, good thoughts, and warm wishes.
A network of support
My first priorities were healing my body and caring for Henry. When he was in daycare, I cried and slept. When he was home, I rallied myself to play with him, so his mommy wasn’t completely overtaken by the dark cloud of sorrow.
After about six weeks, a grief group opened up through Roger Neilson House (now called Roger Neilson Children’s Hospice). Kris and I signed up together. That’s where we learned it was okay to share Max’s photos, okay to talk about him. It was important to understand that we could include Max as part of our family and bring his memory into our day-to-day.
Carol Openshaw, who co-facilitated the bereaved parents’ group, noticed that families whose children had died in infancy sometimes didn’t return after the first session. She suspected those parents—who never got to know their child—found it hard to relate to parents who’d had years to watch their children grow. Disenfranchised grief is incredibly isolating, so Carol initiated a peer-support program to help match people whose experiences mirrored one another. That’s how I met Julia Winslow. Her son, Carter, was born still at 38 weeks, just like Max.
You can’t imagine the difference it makes to have someone you can text: I just walked past the diaper aisle and now I’m crying, and they get exactly how you feel. Even now, Julia continues to be an important touchstone in my life.
When Julia left the hospital after Carter’s stillbirth, she got a pamphlet on suicide prevention. That’s it. The leaflet validated the emotional severity of losing a child, but it didn’t come close to meeting her needs. Over the past decade, Julia has helped narrow that resource gap by taking on a leadership role with the Butterfly Run, which supports Ottawa families who’ve experienced loss during pregnancy and infertility. They’ve helped thousands of people, and the run has spread to communities like Vancouver, Kelowna, Nanaimo and Whistler.
Thanks to these and other ongoing efforts, a wide range of resources has been developed to support families across Canada. The stigma of losing a child used to mean people hid themselves away. Now, people are finding one another in ways that are healing and affirming.
Krista Beneš recently made a career change as Manager of Prenatal Screening and Complex Perinatal Portfolio at the Better Outcomes Registry & Network (BORN).
Cherished memories
When I became pregnant again, with our son Simon, anxieties naturally arose. Along with physical concerns, there were also nagging worries like, ‘What if everyone forgets about Max?’
Henry helped alleviate that fear when he first took part in his school’s annual Terry Fox Run. Each student was given the chance to dedicate their run to someone, and Henry’s tribute card read, “Terry ran for me, I am running for Max.” I was so proud. Henry’s tribute made me think we must be doing something right, teaching our boys that they can remember their brother.
Other people remember Max, too. Loved ones still call or text me on his birthday. It means a lot. I’m not suggesting that everyone needs to do this, but the shared acknowledgement feels supportive to me.
With each passing year, our love for Max grows more layered, and his mattering in our family never wavers. Earlier this year, I saw a job posting that asked, “Are you passionate about improving the health outcomes for pregnant individuals and their babies?”
I felt this pull. I’d been at the Mental Health Commission of Canada for nine years and loved it, but who better to contribute to an understanding of how we could do this than someone who’s experienced the most devastating outcome of all?
Now, after taking a big professional leap, I’m surrounded by a team of incredibly bright, passionate individuals who are all working towards the vision of ensuring the best possible beginnings for lifelong health. What a great way to honour Max’s legacy.
As told to Jessica Waite, a best-selling author and award-winning essayist who writes frequently about grief – and hope.
Resources:
- At the Pregnancy and Infant Loss Support Centre, the practitioner team consists of bereaved parents whose direct experiences have led them into counselling and coaching work.
- Aditi Lovering, founder of PILSC, says their intention is to meet people where they are: no matter how long it’s been since the loss, no matter how far along the pregnancy was, no matter if the bereaved person isn’t the parent who conceived the child. PILSC offers peer support, professional support, comfort boxes, and online resources.
- Lesley Sabourin says Roger Neilson Children’s Hospice also recognizes that grandparents, siblings, and extended family members can benefit from grief support. They’ve expanded their services to meet those needs and refer many Ontarians to the Pregnancy and Infant Loss Network.
- For bereaved parents still trying to build their families, Roger Neilson Children’s Hospice offers a program called Pregnancy After Loss Support and recommends org for people without direct access to the program.
- The hospice also lists other resources on its website.
- Krista recommends the book We Were Gonna Have a Baby, but We Had an Angel Instead for young children who have lost a sibling.
- Where to Find Mental Health Care in Canada: The Commission compiled a guide to obtaining private and public mental health services.
