"He is going crazy"

Saa Hiil Thut

Reprinted from the COVID-19 issue of Visions Journal, 16 (2), pp. 19-23

My story, I believe, is a reflection of what life is like for an Indigenous person growing up with the ongoing impacts of the colonization experience in Canada. My name is Saa Hiil Thut, aka Gerry Oldman. I am St'át'imc, from Shalalth, BC.

Unexpected observations about the pandemic from the street

J.B.W.

Reprinted from the "COVID-19" issue of Visions Journal, 2020, 16 (2), pp. 16-18

I live in Nanaimo. Before COVID-19, I’d spend a lot of my time at the library. Now, the library’s closed. Like most other places, there’s a ghost-town feel.

Wondering when toilet paper will be in stock again, trying to access mental health services that have reduced capacity or even closed, fighting to keep a normal routine despite changes like work and school from home—like many families, Lori experiences a lot more anxiety these days. But despite the challenges, her family is finding its way, adapting to the new challenges, finding resilience, and reconnecting with each other.

When the pandemic started, registered psychiatric nurse Stacy and her colleagues at a Vancouver Island shelter were shunned—shelter staff didn’t know the real risks, and everyone else assumed that homeless people would spread the virus. In order to protect her family, Stacy made the difficult decision to have her daughter stay with her grandparents for 65 days—a decision that was right for the time, but one she never wants to make again.

Jim’s son Joe was always hyperactive and needed extra support. The stress ended Jim’s marriage and Joe went to live with his mother. When Joe was eight, Jim received a call from the Ministry of Children and Family Development: he could take Joe full-time or allow Joe to go into care. Jim had to be there for his son no matter what. A Child and Youth Mental Health team helped, but it wasn’t always consistent—Jim often had to quit work to take care of Joe because he couldn’t afford specialized support. Joe is now an adult and has aged out of some supports, but Jim is still fighting to find the right help.

Bailee lives in Smithers, in northwest BC, and is in Grade 9. In high school, she started to get into drugs. A lot of families can’t afford activities like dance or sports, so drugs and alcohol are a way to have fun. Bailee has been in and out of foster care since she was four, and her worker at the Ministry of Children and Family Development is a great support no matter what’s going on. Now Bailee is ready to learn how to deal with everything she’s experienced and find balance.

Navjot grew up in the Okanagan in a multigenerational Punjabi home with strong ties to India. She felt like she didn’t belong in either world. With little support from others, she started to drink alcohol and attempted suicide a year later. That created a constant tug-of-war between traditional healing and Western health systems, and even more pressure to hide her experiences from others. Navjot felt like she had to stay silent, but she now works to break the stigma and find healing in the space between two cultures.

Michael found depression and anxiety harder to manage, and tried to book an appointment with a mental health clinic in town—the closest large town to his small community. The next appointment was a month away, an eternity for someone who needed help right away. Living in a small community has wonderful benefits, but it also means that help is not always easy to access when you need it. After a suicide attempt and short hospitalization, Michael was sent out on his own again with an address for a counselling clinic, and now must navigate a setback from COVID-19.

Working in northern BC comes with challenges. Staffing shortages mean that one person has to fill many roles. Knowing everyone in town can lead to conflict when people need privacy. Racism and lack of culturally appropriate services leave many Indigenous people without the right supports. For Shamalla, a mental health and addictions clinician serving five First Nations communities, different is also a good thing. It means that she can meet people where they are), build stronger relationships, and feel the rhythm of the land.

How to promote trans-inclusive workplaces

Robyn Hlatky, MA

From the "Workplace Bullying and Harassment" issue of Visions Journal, 2020, 15 (4), pp. 27-29