Jessica Ward-King Archives - Mental Health Commission of Canada

Showing Up: Stories of Thriving at Work

Ian Peralta — Tue, 25 Aug 2026 08:00:33 +0000

By Jessica Ward-King

Lakshala Ganeshamoorthy

Lakshala Ganeshamoorthy, an educational assistant at the Ottawa-Carleton District School Board, lives with depression and anxiety. “I had to take a sick day for my mental health, and I emailed my boss to tell him I was having a hard time. He wrote back telling me to come see him the next day, and I was full of anxiety. I thought I was in trouble. But when I went to him, it was super positive, and he just asked how he could help.” According to Ganeshamoorthy, “you need a really good community and work environment to thrive.” She used to work in an unsupportive environment and immediately started looking for another job. She feels fortunate to have landed where she is now. “When I’m really down and alone at home, I go to work, and it’s [not long before those feelings are] all gone because of the community, the friends. We laugh. I know that others at work are on the same antidepressant as me, and we share our experiences. It really helps.”

Many adults spend a third of their lives at work: half of their waking hours. It can be difficult to be your whole self at work, especially if you are one of the one in five people who live with mental illness. The stigma of mental illness — that you are stupid, lazy, unreliable, or unstable — and the drive to succeed at work can make disclosure seem unwise. But mental illness affects how we show up to work, and simple accommodations can make all the difference in how well we are able to do our jobs. These are the stories of people who thrive at work while living with mental illness.

Ganeshamoorthy is open about her experience with mental illness at work, but she must show up every day for the kids she works with, whether she is having a good day or a bad one. “Sometimes things can really get under your skin, and you need to be able to say, ‘I need to take a break,’” she says. “It took me a long time to learn that. I thought I always had to be patient and calm. I always had to know what to do. But no. It’s OK to step back.” It helps to share your lived experience at work, because then others will share theirs as well. “Sharing some of your experience with your employer so that they understand what you are going through can help. There might be a little bit of judgment, but you don’t have to disclose everything.” Ganeshamoorthy asserts that working actually helps her mental health: “There is a lot of stigma that when you have mental health issues, you don’t do a lot, but that is not true. Being busy at work, and outside of work, helps me cope with my mental health.”

Meg Brunetti

Meg Brunetti is now a self-employed garden designer but was once a government employee. She left the public service in part because of her mental illness. “When I worked in government, I was masking all the time. Then I burnt out.” Brunetti lives with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) and premenstrual dysphoric disorder (PMDD), and she has found that flexibility is key to her success at work. When her children were young, Brunetti felt supported by her employer, who offered flexible scheduling. Brunetti valued the stable employment but found her time in government challenging. “I was writing cheques that I could not cash because my mood disorder is cyclical and unpredictable. You’ve got to try not to mask all the time and just be yourself,” she says. Now, as an entrepreneur, Brunetti is thriving, able to set her own schedule and be gentle with herself when her symptoms are bothersome. “Making mistakes and learning and going with the flow, being flexible to be yourself is so important,” she says.

Zachary Houle

Zachary Houle works as a technical writer for a government agency. He lives with schizophrenia and autism and is in recovery from addiction. He chooses not to disclose his mental illness at work because of the stigma that is attached to it. “I haven’t disclosed my illness at my day job. If they ask, I will tell, but schizophrenia is a big, scary thing.” He is aware of the consequences of disclosure: “It’s not that I am wearing masks or anything, but I am very conscious of office politics and how certain information will get used. I am trying to make sure that I’m not working against myself.” Houle has not asked for accommodations at work, asserting, “I don’t want special treatment. I have learned not to present as ‘abnormal.’ Once you say ‘I have a mental disability,’ people seem to resent you for that, for needing special treatment.” But Houle is gradually becoming more comfortable with the idea of disclosing his mental health concerns. He agreed to use his real name in this article and perhaps use this piece as a jumping-off point for a discussion with his managers. He had a positive experience disclosing his autism to an editor he worked with, and the relationship was enhanced by his disclosure. “Just having a stable day job when you have some big mental health disorders on your lap is a pretty big deal. And I was even sought out for my book-reviewing side hustle, just demonstrating the quality of the work I do. So yes, considering everything that has happened to me, I am thriving at work.”

At work, Houle says, “Representation matters. I attend a 12-step program where I get to tell my story, and people look up to me as someone who has succeeded. You need to look for role models at work.”

If your workplace is not psychologically healthy and safe, disclosure may not be the best option. Mental illness still comes with a lot of stigma, and disclosure can hurt your career. A study conducted at Simon Fraser University found that workplace culture, not specific policies, is what influences disclosure of a mental illness in the workplace. Employees at supportive workplaces were 55% more likely to disclose a mental health concern to their employer, and they were more engaged, were more satisfied in their jobs, and remained at their jobs longer than employees in unsupportive workplaces.

According to recent research from Mental Health Research Canada, those hardest hit by mental health challenges are employed people in Canada in their early and prime working years. But work is also important to the recovery journey of people living with mental illness, as it provides identity and purpose. A 2025 study found that “employment fostered self-awareness, advocacy, and self-actualization” and that “workplace policies promoting self-awareness, advocacy, and peer support enhance job retention and well-being.”

This Labour Day, take a moment to recognize that your colleagues may have lived experiences that you will never see and that they are thriving at work anyway. If you are living with mental illness and wondering whether you can thrive at work, take it from Ganeshamoorthy, Brunetti, and Houle: if you find a welcoming community at work, are given the flexibility and stability you need, and pursue work that fills your cup rather than depleting it, you absolutely can thrive.

Resources, sources, and documents

A Manager’s Guide to Workplace Accommodations

Suicide Prevention in the Workplace

How to support health-care workers at work

Author: Jessica Ward-King BSc, PhD, aka the StigmaCrusher, is a mental health advocate and keynote speaker with a rare blend of academic expertise and lived experience. Equipped with a doctorate in experimental psychology and firsthand knowledge of bipolar disorder, she’s both heavily educated and, as she likes to say, heavily medicated. Crazy smart, she’s been crushing mental health stigma since 2010.

The post Showing Up: Stories of Thriving at Work appeared first on Mental Health Commission of Canada.

Accommodations: The Bridge from Mental Health Disability to Employee Retention

Ian Peralta — Tue, 24 Mar 2026 12:40:37 +0000

By Jessica Ward-King

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Mental health concerns and illnesses have a serious economic impact on the Canadian workforce. The annual cost of mental illness in Canada is estimated at $51 billion, including lost productivity. At least 500,000 Canadians miss work because of mental illness every week. One in five Canadians experience mental illness in any given year, and many more will experience mental health concerns and burnout. This in turn increases turnover and affects the ability of employers to retain good employees.

Burnout and mental illness

In fact, in 2025, 39% of Canadian employees reported feeling burnt out, a number that rose from 35% in 2023. Burnout costs employers up to $28,500 per employee annually in lost productivity and turnover. It is one of the strongest predictors of turnover, and organizations that invest in burnout prevention see burnout rates drop to 27%, compared with 47% in organizations that take no action.

Mental health concerns like burnout and mental illnesses like depression, anxiety and ADHD affect the workforce at high rates and create barriers to employee success. Mental illness can lead to disability that affects performance.

Mental health disabilities

The workplace is not made for persons with disabilities. Barriers abound. And yet employees with disabilities are among our most determined, resilient, and creative problem solvers, who have honed these skills over a lifetime of solving complex problems each day in their personal lives. In 2022, 10.4% of Canadians over the age of 15 reported having a mental health-related disability. In the same year, 35% of employed Canadians with disabilities needed at least one workplace accommodation and yet 35% of those who needed accommodations did not ask for them because of the associated stigma. Workplace training like Opening Minds’ The Working Mind can help reduce mental health stigma among employees, and creating a psychologically healthy and safe workplace by applying the National Standard of Canada for Psychological Health and Safety in the Workplace can make the workplace a better environment for people with mental health disabilities.

When barriers present themselves in the workplace, how we respond is critical. Mental health is consistently one of the top issues in employee retention, and accommodations act as the “bridge” between an employee’s mental health needs and their ability to remain productive and committed to their employer. Kristin Bower, a consultant and co-founder of Leda HR, concurs. She needed a workplace accommodation because of a mental health disability early in her career and shares, “There’s the retention piece right there: when I personally wasn’t supported, I didn’t feel a sense of loyalty, rapport or belonging to my employer.”

Kristin Bower

Accommodations for mental illness

We tend to think of accommodation for persons with disabilities as building ramps for those using wheelchairs, but it is sometimes less clear how to accommodate a mental health disability. “People leaders don’t need to be the experts,” says Bower. “The accommodation process is one that should be a shared accountability between the person who needs the accommodation and the employer.”

I work in a typical office environment, and because of my mental health disability I have faced many barriers to success in my 15+-year career. For example, some medications that I have taken have caused me to be groggy and sleepy in the morning, making my typical 7 a.m. start time difficult to achieve. At other times, because of cognitive symptoms I have found it difficult to focus on reading long, complex documents from my computer screen. Sitting in an open-concept office space, surrounded by movement and noises, has often made concentrating particularly difficult when I have been experiencing symptoms. All of these issues have been barriers to reaching my full potential at work and have had the potential to cause my regular level of performance to decline.

However, a later start time allowed me to take my medications as prescribed but also be at my best when I am at work. A screen reader has turned reports and briefing documents into podcasts that I am able to focus on despite my cognitive limitations. Moving to a workstation in a lower traffic area has made concentration much more possible when symptoms are causing excessive distractibility.

These are some of the accommodations that have helped me continue to deliver my best work. Before these adjustments were made, I was becoming frustrated and performing poorly, leading to increases in both presenteeism (showing up to work but not working at capacity) and absenteeism (not showing up to work at all). I was starting to think that maybe my job wasn’t for me and that I should go on sick leave or long-term disability or maybe find another job. But as soon as the barriers to success were removed, I was able to go back to being the high-performing employee that my employer had hired, and my job satisfaction returned.

Ideally, I would not have waited until I was thinking about leaving to seek accommodations. Accommodations work best when they are implemented proactively, not reactively.

Strategies and tools for retention

It can be difficult to know what strategies and tools are available to help accommodate employees with mental health disabilities. “There is a lack of knowledge around what is an accommodation,” Bower says. “Most accommodations are simple to enact and are under $500 or free if you have a disability.” The trick is for managers and employees to work together, often with the help of health-care professionals, to identify an individual’s functional limitations and then put into place adjustments that will help them to overcome those limitations. Sometimes it requires creativity or trial and error to hit on the correct solution. The Manager’s Guide to Workplace Accommodations is a starting point for both managers and employees in their journey into accommodating persons with disabilities.

It is important to note that the workplace is required to accommodate a person with a disability up to the point of undue hardship. But accommodation can also be a strategic retention tool, not just a compliance requirement. “People want to work for a culture that is supportive, and that helps retention overall” says Bower.

Flexible work

This story would not be complete without mentioning the elephant in the room — work from home. Flexibility to work from home has become a major accommodation request since the COVID-19 pandemic, while needs for other types of accommodations have remained stable or declined. A flexible work location, either through fully remote or hybrid work, is one of the most requested accommodations for employees with mental health challenges as it promotes work–life balance, autonomy and flexibility and can help an employee to manage the symptoms of a variety of mental illnesses and mental health concerns, often without having to brave the stigma associated with mental illness. Of course, working from home is not an option for workers in many fields, such as in the health-care and construction sectors. There are a variety of accommodations that can support on-site workers as well. Flexibility and creativity are key. Whether it is in place or time of work, or how the work gets done, exploring options to see what might address an employee’s specific needs is the first step. “Just because you’ve always worked in a particular way doesn’t mean you always have to work in that way,” Bower says. Both Bower and I can attest, through our own experiences, that when high-performing employees are accommodated, the employer benefits from retaining them.

Further Reading: Psychological Health and Safety in the Workplace: Tools You Can Use

Resources:

Author: Jessica Ward-King B.Sc., Ph.D., a.k.a. the StigmaCrusher, is a mental health advocate and keynote speaker with a fine blend of academic expertise and lived experience.

The post Accommodations: The Bridge from Mental Health Disability to Employee Retention appeared first on Mental Health Commission of Canada.

When I Tell People About My Mental Illness, This is What Happens

Ian Peralta — Tue, 09 Dec 2025 05:00:07 +0000

By Jessica Ward-King

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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.

Resource: Considerations When Sharing Your Story of Mental Health Challenges.

Resource: Mental Health: Common Myths and Misconceptions.

Resource: Suicide Prevention Tools.

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

The post When I Tell People About My Mental Illness, This is What Happens appeared first on Mental Health Commission of Canada.

Rest is not the same thing as recovery

Ian Peralta — Sun, 10 Aug 2025 18:59:11 +0000

By Jessica Ward-King

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The other day I was walking down the street when my foot hit a divot in the pavement, and I went over on my ankle. I heard – or maybe felt – a snap. My ankle started swelling almost immediately. To the emergency room I went and as I whiled away the hours scrolling, watching videos, and playing word games I watched my phone’s battery dwindle and eventually I was “in the red.” Uh-oh! I needed my phone to call a ride when my ER ordeal was done! With no hope of seeing the doctor soon and no charger in my pocket there was nothing I could do but give the phone a rest and turn it off.

Wouldn’t it have been magical if, when I turned it back on two hours later, instead of finding my battery at 8% it had recovered its charge up to 50%? Wouldn’t it be great if just giving my phone a rest would also recharge its battery?

Alas, that is not how it works – for phones or for people either. Rest is not the same thing as recovery. I need to recharge my phone if I expect its battery life to recover. I need to plug it in if I hope to recharge its battery. Luckily with a phone it is a very simple and linear process – we know exactly what to do when our phone’s battery is in the red. But what do we do when our own “batteries” need to recharge?

Self-care is the obvious answer to mental health recovery, but it isn’t as obvious what self-care looks like, because it looks completely different for different individuals. In fact, self-care is often maligned as an airy-fairy concept, awash with adult colouring books, meditation apps and yoga poses – and if those are your things, then great! But self-care can be and is so much more.

Some people (like introverts) recharge their batteries solo or with smaller group activities – reading, crafting or solo exercise. Others (like extroverts) find they recover better when they can feed off the energies of others and prefer to recharge in the presence of other people – parties, group activities and team sports. However, there are some all-round solutions if you are looking for ways to recover.

Taking care of your body with sleep, exercise and nutrition is a must. We all know this. But there are a lot of moving parts here! When you are in need of recovery it can be overwhelming to see the catalogue of things you are “doing wrong” in this department, and that is not the goal. The goal is to choose practices that recharge your energies, not deplete them. And so, beginning a practice of good sleep hygiene or drinking more water might be more manageable. Don’t try to change everything at once and make it perfect – there is no such thing anyway. Just do something good for your body to help it rest and recover and celebrate that!

Experiencing nature is another powerful way to recharge your batteries. This is one self-care tip that becomes easier as the leaves and flowers bloom. Taking a nature walk or forest-bathing can help but even just sitting in your back garden or eating lunch on a park bench is enough to help restore balance.

These self-care tips are helpful in recovering your mental health, but these are not the tips that will lead you to recovery with mental illness. Medications, talk therapy and a good therapeutic alliance with your caregivers as well as peer support will help with that. And the road to recovery with mental illness is a long and non-linear process. But that process will be augmented by a self-care routine that keeps your batteries charged, giving you the energy to work at that process. In short, we all have mental health, and we all need to mindfully recover our mental health all the time, but mental illness requires a different kind of recovery.

Spoiler alert – my ankle was a simple sprain and I hobbled out on crutches and a prescription for, you guessed it, REST! In a few days it was right as rain. That is the last piece I want to touch on here. While rest is not the same thing as recovery, recovery takes rest. It takes time and relaxation – whatever that looks like for you. Sometimes staying off of it – metaphorically speaking, of course – is the best thing you can do for your mental health. Sometimes you need a crutch. So, take your weekends and vacation days to rest. Do something to take care of yourself. And watch your battery life go up.

Author: Jessica Ward-King

BSc, PhD, aka the StigmaCrusher, is a mental health advocate and keynote speaker with a rare blend of academic expertise and lived experience. Equipped with a doctorate in experimental psychology and firsthand knowledge of bipolar disorder, she’s both heavily educated and, as she likes to say, heavily medicated. Crazy smart, she’s been crushing mental health stigma since 2010.

The post Rest is not the same thing as recovery appeared first on Mental Health Commission of Canada.

Masters of Disguise No More

Ian Peralta — Tue, 22 Apr 2025 12:48:53 +0000

By Jessica Ward-King

The Canadian Mental Health Association’s Mental Health Week runs from May 5-11. This year’s theme is #UnmaskingMentalHealth and encourages people across Canada to look beyond the surface to see the whole person.

Perhaps you know the tune – about Eleanor Rigby.

“Wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door. Who is it for?”

In their classic song about loneliness, The Beatles sum up beautifully what it is like to live with a “high-functioning” mental illness. The song comes to mind, at times, like when I am in a bipolar mood episode, I always leave the house with my mask on. Often, this is literal. I painstakingly put on make-up, painting a face that denotes coping and professionalism (wing tips for bright eyes! Blush for pink cheeks to denote good health!). When I leave the house, I match the attitude and tone of the people I interact with, putting in enormous mental effort to calculate the actions that will make me appear “normal.”

This mask broadcasts a message of “I’m fine,” when inside, I am often anything but. When I arrive home in the evening, I wash off the painted face and watch it circle the drain, as a kind of illustration of how depleted I feel, before I fall into bed exhausted from the effort.

For me, this year’s Mental Health Week theme is a call to action. When we unmask mental health, we create the conditions for reducing stigma by promoting understanding and eliminating discrimination against people with mental illness.

Masking – what is it, who does it, and why?

Masking, also known as “camouflaging,” is precisely that – trying to blend in with societal expectations by suppressing symptoms or traits, according to Autism Canada. It is a concept that has been most studied in the context autism and attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder and is linked to the concept of “smiling depression,” a colloquial term for those who may slap on a smile to disguise their inner feelings.

Zachary Houle lives with autism and schizophrenia. He notes that autism has become more celebrated in the media (“autism chic” is even a thing), but he notes that the media portrayals can remove the reality and complexity of illnesses.

“I find with schizophrenia, people immediately think I’m an axe murderer or I’m dangerous and violent,” he says. “It takes less energy to pretend to be normal than going into an office knowing that I’m going to get hazed, which has happened in the past.”

Houle notes that a lot has changed in the 20 years since his diagnosis and that he is in a very progressive and understanding workplace now, but he still masks daily as it has become his second nature.

He is not alone. According to a 2023 poll from Benefits Canada, 45 percent of Canadian employees with autism feel that they have to mask their autistic traits at work.

Tanya Lepine-Darwiche, a woman who identifies as being on the autism spectrum and who lives with anxiety, agrees. “Masking is about the world accepting me being able to walk into a room and have my opinion heard without them placing judgments on me because I’m neurodivergent,” she says. “It’s putting on a performance.” She notes that it is harder to maintain social relationships when she doesn’t mask. “It’s what I need to do to be socially acceptable.”

As Houle and Lepine-Darwiche both note, masking is very useful in promoting social interaction and protecting oneself, but it also comes with costs, primarily burnout and isolation.

“I’d like to be vulnerable with people, to show them how much I trust them, but at least in the workplace I feel like I can’t do that,” Houle says. Lepine-Darwiche shared about the effects of a day of masking on her personal life, when she would come home and need a three- or four-hour nap just to recoup her energy. “It was really difficult on me and my relationship with my wife and family before I understood that all of my energy was going to masking,” she confided.

How masking affects treatment

If you are “good” at masking and continue to function, this can lead to downplaying how much you are affected by your symptoms. You, essentially, mask to yourself, and your healthcare practitioner, thus contributing to underdiagnosis and a lack of mental health supports, something both Houle and Lepine-Darwiche have experienced.

Masking also affects the level of social support that one receives. For example, when your reply is, “I’m fine,” those in your social circle cannot know that you might need extra support.

In a 2019 Ipsos study of working Canadians, 76 percent of respondents stated that they would be completely comfortable with and supportive of a colleague with a mental illness, but first they would need to know that support was needed.

The descriptor “high functioning” is not part of any diagnosis, but it is a term that captures of the reality of many. If someone imagines those with serious mental illnesses as not being able to get out of bed or go to work, that might be the case. However, for others, such as Houle, Lepine-Darwiche, and myself, we can attest to functioning adequately even when our symptoms are quite severe. Even my psychiatrist has had to learn that seeing me with my makeup done and my work clothes on, doesn’t mean that I am doing well.

Jessica Ward-King publishes under the name The Stigma Crusher to educate others about mental health. For her, this year’s Mental Health Theme is a chance to share more about what it means to mask – and to unmask – in different social situations. Sometimes that is literal – painting on an “I’m fine” face – before washing it off for the day.

Stigma, disclosure, and masking

Stigma – in all its forms – is a big factor influencing the decision to mask. According to sociologist Erving Goffman (1922-1982), those who are neurodivergent or living with mental illness will make a concerted effort to hide their symptoms – or to be “discredited” by others. Even by today’s standards, where conversations about mental health are increasingly common, many people feel reluctant to share. The same 2019 Ipsos survey of working Canadians found that 75 percent of respondents would be hesitant – or would refuse – to disclose a mental illness to an employer or co-worker due to stigma and fear of discrimination.

Goffman and others have noted how most people wear masks in their daily lives, in terms of trying to present themselves in certain ways in certain circumstances, such as on social media or at work. Putting your best foot forward isn’t the same as masking, however, where the goal is to suppress a key part of one’s identity.

For example, I experience this dilemma in another context – one of “coming out” as a lesbian, an identity that I constantly have to choose to disclose or not in a variety of situations. For example, in a conversation I can skirt around my life with my wife by cleverly using gender-nondescript language, but this brings with it a veil of inauthenticity.

Coming out about my mental illness (or not) feels similar. Do I let people in with vulnerability – or not? This is a decision that I am constantly having to make, and the solution varies with the situation, the people involved, how safe I feel, and my impression of how this “coming out” might result in negative consequences.

Chicken-and-egg situation

Without stigma, there would be little need to put on a mask to begin with, but to reduce stigma, there needs to be connections between people with lived experience of mental illnesses and other human beings – so which comes first?

While education, awareness campaigns, commemorative days, and articles like this one are effective to an extent, interpersonal contact is key according to a 2021 study in Society and Mental Health.

This, however, requires people with lived experiences to unmask, one person and one situation at a time. In other words, you need to reduce stigma to allow people to feel safe to unmask, but you need people to disclose their mental illness and unmask to reduce stigma. Chicken, meet egg.

To break that cycle, allies can play a role in creating the conditions where people feel safe to share their challenges and to open up about neurodivergence and mental illness.

For me, this year’s Mental Health Week theme is a call to action – to be my authentic high-functioning, high-performing self, and to also be okay to not be okay.

It’s also about not expending all my energy to maintain a perfectly painted mask, about not just saying “I’m fine” to make sure no one else is uncomfortable, but to feel free to say that I am struggling if I feel safe enough to do so.

When I get home from work and wash off my makeup, I want to have energy left for my family, my hobbies, and my wellness.

Outside of the home, I want to be in a world where I can take off my mask. I won’t be able to brave it every time, in every situation, and with every person – and that’s okay. The mask can be protective when the situation warrants, but little by little, unmasking can make meaningful connections to change minds.

Further reading: Why my mental illness has me classified as a person with a disability under the employment equity act.

Further reading: What is it like living with schizophrenia?

Resource: Common Mental Health Myths and Misconceptions.

Author: Jessica Ward-King, aka the StigmaCrusher, crushes the stigma of mental illness by being radically open about her experiences living with bipolar disorder.

The post Masters of Disguise No More appeared first on Mental Health Commission of Canada.

“Unhoused” and “Homeless” – What’s the Difference?

Ian Peralta — Tue, 25 Mar 2025 12:28:17 +0000

By Jessica Ward-King

This article is part of the Catalyst series called Language Matters on terminology and usage.

Like the problem of homelessness itself, the issue of language around homelessness is complex and multifaceted, with researchers, experts, and those with lived experience asking if there is a different way of talking and thinking about housing that would drive the conversation rather than mire it in stigma, prejudice, and discrimination. Like those experiencing housing insecurity – something that can be viewed on a spectrum of risk in terms of access to and maintaining shelter – there is no one right answer.

The term homelessness can broadly encompass “the situation of an individual, family, or community without stable, safe, permanent, appropriate housing, or the immediate prospect means and ability of acquiring it,” according to The Canadian Observatory on Homelessness.

This can refer to those who are living in emergency shelters, couch surfing, living in encampments, those who are living in environments not intended for human habitation (such as cars, garages, or makeshift shelters), and those at risk of moving to these living arrangements. The definition encompasses not only income and housing, but also access to employment, health care, clean water and sanitation, schools, and childcare.

Word choice

The words we use do not, themselves, change the experience or impact of homelessness – but they can shape the conversation. For example, terms such as “houseless” or “unhoused” are emerging to place the emphasis away from the individual, and toward the bigger problem – a lack of affordable housing, something that is of great concern to 45 percent of people in Canada, as of late 2024 reporting from the Canadian Social Survey.

Al Wiebe knows these concerns. He is a housing advocate in Winnipeg who has experienced homelessness and describes himself as having no fixed address. He uses the word “homeless” to describe his experiences because, “a house is just a shelter, a roof over your head,” he says, noting that some people living in encampments, for example, may feel they have a “home” even though they are without a traditional “house.”

Further, Wiebe notes that more than 31 percent of homeless people come from Indigenous communities, with many people from within those communities noting that “unhoused” or “houseless” are more appropriate terms for those who may consider Earth their home.

Person-centred language

This term aligns with person-first language – something that focuses on the individual. For example, in the case of mental health conditions, you could describe a person as living with schizophrenia as opposed to “having” or “being” an illness, disability, or condition. In the case of housing – a lack of affordable options is the problem – not the person.

Pearl Eliadis talks about this nuance in “Turning Off the Tap: Preventing Homelessness for Victims of Violence,” her chapter in Ending Homelessness in Canada: The Case for Homelessness Prevention (2024), edited by James Hughes.

Eliadis is an associate professor at McGill University and a lawyer with more than a decade of experience, including work with the United Nations and the Canadian Human Rights Commission. She was working with Melpa Kamateros on a research project in 2021 as part of the Quebec Homelessness Prevention Policy Collaborative. At the outset, they were having a conversation on language.

Kamateros – co-founder and executive director of Montreal’s Shield of Athena Family Services – offering emergency shelter for those experiencing intimate partner violence – says care is needed in the use of the term.

“These women are not homeless, at least not as long as they are with our shelter!” Kamateros explains to Eliadis, who writes: “There is a feminist argument at play here: framing the experience of a woman fleeing violence as ‘homelessness’ places the focus of the policy problem on her; it reframes who she is, even though her circumstances were the product of someone else’s violence. The woman may be temporarily unhoused, but that does not make her ‘homeless’.”

Evolving ideas

Some sources, such as Regeneration Outreach in Brampton, Ontario use “homeless” to refer to someone with no fixed address and “houseless” to refer to someone who does not have a traditional home, but does have a place to stay, such as an RV or other non-permanent structure. Blanchet House in Portland, Oregon uses both “houseless” and “unhoused” interchangeably over the more stigmatized term, “homeless.”

However, as advocates are noting, changing the terms may eclipse the bigger issues.

“Even the benefit of switching from a word loaded with negative connotations to one that is denotationally the same thing but without those connotations only has a negligible benefit that lasts a few years, until stigma grows on the new word too,” wrote Frances Koziar, a young, disabled, retiree, and a social justice activist living in Kingston, Ontario in an Ottawa Citizen op-ed.

While language continues to evolve, it is only one part of a much larger issue. The debate over terminology should not be used as a form of virtue signaling without meaningful efforts to tackle the deeper challenges of housing affordability, mental health, and substance use.

Further reading: A Roof of One’s Own: The lack of housing options brings its own kind of homesick feeling.

Resource: How We Talk About Mental Health: It Matters!

Jessica Ward-King researches and writes as The StigmaCrusher. She feels most at home when learning about and advocating for mental health.

The post “Unhoused” and “Homeless” – What’s the Difference? appeared first on Mental Health Commission of Canada.

Yes, me.

Ian Peralta — Tue, 19 Nov 2024 05:00:36 +0000

By Jessica Ward-King

December 3 marks the annual International Day of Persons with Disabilities, a UN Day to promote the rights and well-being of persons with disabilities.

I live with bipolar disorder, a chronic psychiatric condition characterized by extreme variations in my mood, energy, activity levels, and cognition. Despite these extremes of mood and energy, I am fairly high functioning in life and at work, where I hold a senior level knowledge-economy position. I have developed a variety of coping mechanisms, such as masking, to accompany these mood states and make me perform like I am “normal,” but many days it is an uphill battle, and I feel like I have to try twice as hard as anybody else to succeed. I have even had to change my career path and goals because of my struggle with this mood disorder.

Throughout my life, I have struggled, thinking that this was a “me problem,” that I had to change the way that I interacted with the system so that I could be successful. I ran myself ragged trying to succeed in a system that is made to be equal for everyone – a laudable goal – but was ultimately disadvantaging due to my mental illness.

Eye-opening discovery

Then I discovered the Employment Equity Act (EEA). The broad purpose of the act is to achieve equality in the workplace so that people are not denied employment opportunities or benefits because of their identity or level of ability. Moreover, the act exists to “correct the conditions of disadvantage in employment experienced by women, Aboriginal peoples, persons with disabilities and members of visible minorities.” (My emphasis).

I had always thought that a disability was, you know, like the symbol. Physical. Wheelchair ramps to allow access to buildings, or maybe even screen readers for people with low or no vision, but a mental illness? I did a deep dive into the act and found this passage:

“A person with a disability has a long term or recurring physical, mental, sensory, psychiatric or learning impairment and:

considers themselves to be disadvantaged in employment by reason of that impairment
believes that an employer or potential employer is likely to consider them to be disadvantaged in employment by reason of that impairment.

This definition also includes persons whose functional limitations owing to their impairment have been accommodated in their current job or workplace.”

Well, that tracks. In fact, it kind of describes my experience of the workplace to a tee. So, my mental illness qualifies me as a person with a disability? What does that actually mean?

There are a few things to unpack here:

Stigma and labels

First, there is the stigma associated with a label like “disabled.” This stigma is rooted in ableism, which is an attitude that views and treats people without disabilities as the “normal” ones and those with disabilities as somehow inferior or “other.” This stigma, which I summed up earlier as a “me problem,” (self-stigma) challenged my view of myself as a capable person and employee. It also made me worry that, if I were to self-identify as a person with a disability, managers would be hesitant to hire me based on that stigma and fear around how difficult it would be to work with me.

Disadvantage

Why would I try to overcome that self-stigma, risk the stigma of others, and choose to self-identify, and declare that I am a person with disability? Because of the disadvantage in employment that my mental health causes. Living with bipolar disorder can cause me to struggle to do my job within the “one-size fits all” system of work. The way that my brain and body functions when I am in a mood episode can limit my ability to succeed. I feel that these functional limitations caused by my mental illness disadvantage me in terms of achieving my goals at work and advancing in my career.

Not a me problem

The EEA doesn’t just stop at identifying that a barrier or disadvantage exists, however, it goes one step further: accommodation, which says, “employment equity means more than treating persons in the same way but also requires special measures and the accommodation of differences.”

Through various measures of accommodation in the workplace, I have found that I can achieve my potential and excel at my job. These accommodations are tweaks to my work environment (this could be physical, temporal, or social) and processes that help me to meet expectations. The key here is that instead of those disadvantaging barriers being a “me problem” they become a systems problem that the system needs to make space for and offer opportunities to remediate.

What accommodation can look like

The trick is identifying the functional limitations, and the changes that could help overcome those limitations. So, if a medication change is making me super groggy in the morning, perhaps a change of my work hours to a later start time is in order. If working from the office is too taxing on my energy during a depressive episode, maybe the place of work needs to change to allow for working from home. If my motivation or decision-making is reduced, more frequent and structured direction from my boss, and slightly expanded deadlines might be in order. If I am having trouble concentrating while reading complex documents, a screen reader could help.

Whatever the functional limitation, there is often an accommodation that can help me work through and balance out the disadvantage caused by my disability. Beyond that, my employer actually has a duty to accommodate, meaning that they cannot refuse a reasonable accommodation up to the point of undue hardship. The goal is to level the playing field – not confer any advantage – where equity, which differs from equality, is the aim.

Representation and changing the narrative

There is one final, very significant piece to the EEA. It aims to correct underrepresentation of members of designated groups in the workplace. That means that employers are encouraged and supported by the Act to hire and retain members of designated groups, including persons with disabilities, in an effort to balance out the systemic barriers that have prevented persons with disabilities from participating fully in the workforce.

Stigma and ableist attitudes persist in society and in the workplace, but the EEA gives me the legislative background – and the courage – to advocate for myself. It has empowered me to be assertive and forthright about the tools and conditions I need to succeed in the workplace as a person living with mental illness. Ultimately, it makes me a better employee, ensuring that I am consistently able to work to my full potential and contribute to the aims of my organization.

Further reading: Mental Health at Work — It Matters. How to Start the Conversation.

Resource: A Vision for Quality Mental Health Care for All.

Author: Jessica Ward-King, B.Sc., Ph.D., a.k.a. the StigmaCrusher, is a mental health advocate and keynote speaker with a fine blend of academic expertise and lived experience.

The post Yes, me. appeared first on Mental Health Commission of Canada.

Kit in Hand

Alex Barankevych — Fri, 26 Jul 2024 18:15:00 +0000

By Jessica Ward-King

This is a story for any day of the year – but we want to note the 2024 theme for International Overdose Awareness Day – held annually on August 31 – which is “Together We Can.” The topic highlights the power of communities standing together to end overdose.

I have a kit that reverses opioid overdose, and I am not ashamed.

It is not only those members of the population who live with substance use concerns who could owe their lives to naloxone; it is also people who live with chronic pain and take prescription pain medications – like my wife. Or people like my son who could get into that pain medication by accident. It is all of us who, in our daily lives, could come across other people who – for whatever reason – have overdosed on opioids.

This can happen anywhere – including in the workplace.

In 2021, there were 2,129 cases of opioid poisoning out of 1.7 million workers in Ontario, according to Ontario Health. Tradespeople, service industry professionals, healthcare, and office employees – all workers – along with customers and contractors that enter businesses can be affected. With such a wide reach, it makes sense that a workplace first aid kit would contain a naloxone kit.

“To me it’s a no-brainer,” says Stephanie Fizzard, a former harm reduction worker. “When you’re grabbing your first aid kit, you’re grabbing your defib[rillator], and you want to be prepared with everything you need to handle that situation.”

Making naloxone part of our workplace first aid kits should be standard – along with training on how to administer it.

About opioids

Opioids like fentanyl, oxycodone, heroin, and morphine, are drugs with pain-relieving properties that can induce euphoria and have significant potential for addiction. They can be prescribed medications, or they can be obtained or produced illegally. According to the Canadian Centre on Substance Abuse, synthetic opioids are fueling the opioid crisis. Fentanyl and fentanyl-like substances that are of non-pharmaceutical origin and are illegally manufactured are the most widely available opioids in Canada’s unregulated drug supply. These drugs increase the risk of drug toxicity deaths because they are extremely potent and can be fatal, even in small amounts. Often, unrelated classes of illegally manufactured drugs contain fentanyl in an effort to increase addiction potential, leading to opioid overdoses even in people who did not knowingly use opioids.

What an overdose might look like

Opioids can cause an overdose and symptoms may present as difficulty walking, talking, or staying awake. It may show up as:

Blue or grey lips or nails
Very small pupils
Cold and clammy skin
Dizziness and confusion
Extreme drowsiness
Choking, gurgling, or snoring sounds
Slow, weak, or no breathing
Inability to wake up, even when shaken or shouted at

How naloxone works

Naloxone is a medicine that blocks the effects of opioids – that’s why it’s known as an “opioid antagonist.” When opioids enter the body, they rapidly bind with opioid receptors. Naloxone blocks the effects of opioids by kicking the opioids off those receptors – and binding to those receptors itself.

Naloxone is not a treatment for opioid use disorder. It is used to temporarily reverse the effects of opioid overdoses. It can restore breathing within two-to-five minutes and is active in the body for 20-90 minutes, whereas the effects of most opioids last longer. In other words, the effects of naloxone are likely to wear off before the opioids are gone from the body, which causes breathing to stop again. Naloxone can be administered multiple times as needed until help arrives. If naloxone is administered to someone who is not overdosing on opioids there will be no ill effects. So, naloxone is a low-risk, high-yield treatment.

The effects of stigma

I remember the first time I was given a naloxone kit. I had surgery in 2018 and needed a course of narcotic pain medication. I practically threw the kit back on the counter. “I’m not a drug addict,” I spat back at the pharmacist. I was concerned about how I would be seen and resistant to the idea that a person like me could even need naloxone. I know much more now – that opioids can affect anyone of any walk of life. The stigma that surrounds substance use can spill over into the use of naloxone.

“A lot of people feel like they’re enabling substance use if they reverse an overdose,” says Fizzard, who is also a person with lived experience of substance use. “I tell them ‘You’re helping people breathe and stay alive – you’re not doing anything else; you’re not helping them take drugs.’”

Fizzard notes that public services have not kept pace with issues of opioid use and overdose, meaning there aren’t enough services out there to meet needs. She makes the case for everyone having awareness of and access to a naloxone kit – noting that the largest barrier to using naloxone is not administering the medication, but the stigma surrounding its use, including in the workplace.

How naloxone is administered

Naloxone comes in two forms: injectable and nasal spray. The injectable form can be intimidating if you are not accustomed to needles. The nasal spray is quick and easy, according to Fizzard.

“The nasal is much more user-friendly,” she says. “In a pinch, you just pull it out of the packaging, put it in the person’s nostril and push the button. Simple. There’s no way of messing it up.”

Naloxone at work

Naloxone is not mandated in the workplace across Canada. Ontario has laws, embedded in the Occupational Health and Safety Act, requiring businesses that employ people who are at risk of overdosing to keep naloxone on hand and train staff how to use it. However, this is only a partial mandate, as those businesses who determine that they do not “employ people at risk” are not required to provide naloxone at work.

In British Columbia, naloxone is not required in the workplace, but tools exist to help identify where it should be employed. In Alberta, employers can choose whether or not to authorize the use of naloxone in the workplace, but if they do then the employer and worker must comply with a set of requirements established by the government.

For workplaces in Canada, health and safety mandates are the jurisdiction of the provinces and territories, meaning that a Canada-wide mandate is not likely. Instead, provinces and territories will have to decide to overcome the stigma and challenges and legislate the inclusion of naloxone in the workplace individually.

Are there barriers to keeping naloxone in a kit at work? It has a shelf life of around two years (or until used) after which it would need to be replaced and repurchased at around $100 per kit; this could pose a challenge to some businesses. (Ontario is providing kits free to businesses, for a limited time, to ease this burden). There could be training costs and stigma is an additional barrier that may prevent workplaces from acquiring naloxone kits.

Your kit

For individuals, naloxone is free in many provinces and territories and is available at pharmacies over the counter, or by ordering online, without a prescription. Online tutorials demonstrate how to use the kits.

As workers, we can inquire whether a naloxone kit is available at work and, if not, whether a kit and training could be made available. Naloxone kits are small, easily stashed in any workplace, and take minimal training to use. In Ontario, it should be enough to identify oneself as a person at risk of overdosing to trigger the requirement that a kit be provided.

In sum, it’s simple: naloxone can save lives – but only if it is available and people are trained how to use it.

Infographic: Do Drugs Contain What We Think They Contain? (Canadian Centre on Substance Use and Addiction)

Further reading: How compassionate health care can alter the trajectories of people who use substances.

The author at the office with her workplace naloxone kit.

Author: Jessica Ward-King

Jessica Ward-King

The post Kit in Hand appeared first on Mental Health Commission of Canada.

Rallying as an Ally

Alex Barankevych — Tue, 26 Mar 2024 16:07:07 +0000

By Jessica Ward-King

Ahead of the International Trans Day of Visibility – an annual event dedicated to supporting trans people and raising awareness of discrimination — the Stigma Crusher reflects on ways of showing up and showing support.

It’s easy to be a friend, a comforter, a confidant, a ramen pal, or a late-night horror flick ride-or-die – but that is not what it means to be an ally. So, how does one be an ally? And more to the point, how does one be a good ally to transgender and nonbinary communities in a political and social climate that can be downright hostile and dangerous?

An ally is a person, often cisgender (a person whose gender corresponds to the sex assigned at birth), who supports and/or advocates for transgender and non-binary people. It can seem daunting to be an ally with all the hate in the world – sometimes, I think I would rather hide until everything feels just a little safer – but for those I love, I can’t. Besides, there are simple actions we can take to be a better ally, right now.

It starts with education

There are 100,815 transgender and non-binary persons in Canada, according to Statistics Canada. That’s 1 in 300 Canadians. Gender refers to an individual’s personal and social identity. Transgender refers to people whose gender does not correspond to their sex assigned at birth (based on a person’s reproductive system and other physical characteristics). Non-binary refers to people who are not exclusively a man or a woman. In both cases, the gender identity, which is the experience of gender internally, does not match what society expects.

Maybe, as an ally, you are familiar with these terms, but do you know about the history of trans and non-binary rights in this country? Have you read any trans or non-binary-authored resources lately? Being a good ally is more than being a friend; it is important for us to educate ourselves about the lived experiences of trans and non-binary people to better understand what they encounter daily. And we have to educate ourselves. It is critical to consider where we put the burden of this work.

Names and pronouns

For many transgender and non-binary people, names and pronouns are an important issue. They may find themselves constantly on the receiving end of being called by their old (“dead”) name or the wrong gender or pronoun (“misgendered”), which can be incredibly hurtful. The most respectful approach is to introduce oneself using one’s preferred name and pronouns and ask if you’re not sure. Mess up? Respectfully apologize, then concentrate on correcting yourself moving forward.

Safety

Allyship is incredibly important in keeping transgender and non-binary people safe – especially in today’s politically charged climate. And it can start young. Mae Ajayi, who is non-binary and a parent, says making allies of our kids is one of the best ways to keep trans and non-binary kids safe.

“It’s about having conversations with kids that are really explicit about transphobia,” Ajayi says. Explaining what it is and how to be an ally is a helpful start, says Rachel Malone, parent of bigender Sacha, and cisgender Peter. “We can’t wrap our kids up in bubble wrap, right? And we can’t be there 100 percent of the time, so we can’t be their only protectors.” Malone knows there is a lot to do to improve safety for transgender and nonbinary people. She told me how Sacha’s brutal bullying over her gender identity in kindergarten resulted in serious mental health concerns and asked me not to use her or her children’s real names because of reports of families of transgender kids being targeted with violence.

Safety is a theme not only for children but also for transgender and non-binary adults, who are more likely than cisgender adults to experience violence. Allies who stand up for their transgender and non-binary friends, colleagues and neighbours are crucial to improving safety for these adults.

Mental health

Robyn Letson, MSW, RSW, is a trans social worker and psychotherapist who works with transgender and non-binary clients. According to them, “There is huge potential for allyship in providing affirming mental health care to trans and non-binary people.”

Transgender and non-binary individuals are more likely than cis-gender individuals to live with poor mental health. This could be due to a variety of reasons, but the transphobia, prejudice, and discrimination that they experience just for existing certainly does not help.

An ally can help support the mental of transgender and non-binary people by being supportive, respecting their privacy by not asking invasive medical questions about transition or hormones, and seeking their feedback on how you can adjust your care approach (you may not know that your approach isn’t working unless you ask). You can signal with signage that workplaces, schools, and clinics are safe and affirming spaces for transgender and nonbinary people.

It also takes work to really help support the transgender and non-binary folks in your life. “I would suggest starting with critical self-reflection,” says Letson. “For cis people who want to begin or deepen a journey of practicing better allyship and solidarity with trans people, I always suggest beginning with one’s own relationship to gender.”

Ongoing commitment

There is no “completed” badge for being an ally – it is all about continuous education, working against discrimination and transphobia, and challenging one’s own biases.

“Make space for fewer assumptions and just allow yourself to feel like you don’t know,” suggests Mae Ajayi. “Cis(gendered) folks should understand how sad and scared people are right now and that it feels very frightening as a trans person and also as a parent – it’s a very real danger,” they say.

I can only imagine how frightening it is to be a transgendered or non-binary person in Canada right now, and as an ally, that makes my blood boil. However, being angry isn’t enough – being cisgender is currently a privilege in our society, and it is an ally’s responsibility to use that privilege to act.

It sounds like a big job, but if you start with supporting transgender and non-binary people, work on educating yourself, commit to learning and using the correct names and pronouns, think about protecting their safety, support their mental health, and then make an ongoing commitment to act against transphobia and discrimination, you will be well on your way to being a better ally.

Jessica Ward-King

The post Rallying as an Ally appeared first on Mental Health Commission of Canada.

How to find a 2SLGBTQIA+ mental health service provider

Alex Barankevych — Fri, 12 Jan 2024 16:06:04 +0000

By Jessica Ward-King

Download a copy

Estimated reading time: 5 minutes

It’s been a while since I’ve dated (my wife and I celebrated 16 years of marriage in August), but I still remember the horrors – and yes, it was online even back then. Search through dozens upon dozens (hundreds?) of profiles to try to find one that looks like it might match what you want, then message to see if they match you too…then the actual date to see if you ACTUALLY match each other – it was exhausting. And you have to be picky – this is a life partner we are talking about here, not just a date for a party. I was super lucky to find my princess after kissing a lot of frogs.

Trying to find a therapist is a lot like dating but let me introduce a new variable – trying to find a therapist – or mental health services at all – as a 2SLGBTQIA+ person. It thins out the dating pool a little bit. But unlike online dating, where there are specialty apps for that, it is a bit more of an odyssey finding mental health services specifically catering to the 2SLGBTQIA+ population.

If I want to talk about my lived experience as a queer person, and I want a therapist or service provider who inherently understands that lived experience without me having to educate them, I am going to need to find a service provider who is a member of the queer community. That means I am going to have to do some leg work. It is hard enough finding a therapist who is taking clients and whose therapeutic style you vibe with without also having to find one who is a member of the queer community, especially when you can’t exactly swipe left on therapists in a queer-only app these days.

I was lucky that when I was coming out, I was living in a huge metropolitan city with some mental health services specifically for young 2SLGBTQIA+ people. I was able to work through the trauma associated with my coming out with a therapist who understood what it was to be queer and had themselves come out. I didn’t have to explain the nuances of my experience or stop to explain the history of my community’s struggles, the historical significance of Pride, or the reasons that I would or would not want to disclose my sexuality to family or friends; these things were known and understood. I felt seen and heard in those sessions in a way that I do not think I would have been seen and heard by a therapist who was not part of the community.

We need more services that are made for and by the 2SLGBTQIA+ community that are safe spaces for not only 2SLGBTQIA+ youth but all members of the queer community to obtain mental health services that are specific to our needs as a marginalized community.

I do not always have therapeutic needs that require a 2SLGBTQIA+ therapist – I am currently working through stressors related to work and coping style and things that do not require my therapist to have a deep understanding of my 2SLGBTQIA+ culture. He is not a member of that community – and it was easier to find him because of that – but it does not hinder my current therapeutic goals. That’s the thing – a therapist isn’t a life partner but a service provider, and so it depends on the service a person needs and whether they need care that is culturally competent based on their intersectional identities. Sometimes you do if the issues that need to be addressed are related to those identities, and sometimes, you don’t.

It is not easy for a 2SLGBTQIA+ person to find a queer-identifying mental health service provider that ticks all of their boxes, and often, we have to settle for what we can find. Resources exist to help (www.psychologytoday.com is a popular one with a 2SLGBTQIA+ filter), but like the dating scene, it can be a jungle out there to find someone with everything you want and need. A lot like the dating scene, if you are trying to find a new service provider, do try to “play the field” a little bit and set up consultations with a few promising candidates to see if you like their style and, as I say, “vibe” with them – because it’s one thing if they understand where you’re coming from as a 2SLGBTQIA+ person, but if they don’t get you as you then the therapeutic relationship isn’t going to work.

Once you have identified your best fit, give them a bit of a chance and let the relationship flourish – but don’t be afraid to ask for a referral to a colleague if it’s not working out after a number of sessions. Your new service provider should be able to refer you to another queer colleague who might be a better fit in terms of the areas you have identified with your therapist so that you won’t be back to square one – and no good therapist will be offended if the relationship isn’t working out. It happens all the time (and they feel it too). And if you have a therapist or service provider (doctor, nurse practitioner, social worker etc.) who is currently not meeting your needs for cultural competency (i.e., they are not part of the 2SLGBTQIA+ community) don’t be shy to ask them for a referral to a queer colleague – you might be surprised to find that they have someone in mind or can help you find someone through their networks.

Bottom line – trying to find a culturally competent 2SLGBTQIA+ mental health service provider is not an easy task, but it is one that is often necessary for members of the queer community seeking services. If that is you, don’t despair. There are resources that can help you find a therapist or service provider who will understand where you are coming from. It may be difficult to find a perfect match, but unlike the dating scene, this isn’t a life partner we are talking about here – you don’t have to marry them!

Author: Jessica Ward-King

The post How to find a 2SLGBTQIA+ mental health service provider appeared first on Mental Health Commission of Canada.

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“ECT (electroconvulsive therapy) is barbaric, and you are an idiot for letting them do that to you.”

“You’re crazy, and they let you adopt a baby?? Isn’t that unfair to the child?”

“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.”

Swift response

Rest is not the same thing as recovery

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