This year, on International Day to Eradicate Poverty, I attended a film screening called Invisible Heart, a story of human beings being "changed" on the impact of people investing in social impact bonds.
If you have not seen or heard anything about it, you can view the trailer here: https://youtu.be/cqpbMAW484w
As a person who lives in poverty and struggles with mental health challenges, I am deeply concerned with this way of thinking of ending poverty in Canada, and in the world, quite frankly.
I was disgusted by how social impact bonds treat those children, parents, and people who live in poverty and in homelessness, thereby, continuing the cycle, of making the rich, richer, and making the poor, poorer, and not giving them a voice.
I urge you to make your own decision on it though, and then have a healthy discussion of why you think this can be impactful for society, and discuss with those who live in poverty, why think the way that they do.
I don't see this being a solution. But becoming a bigger problem, to society in general.
Wednesday, October 24, 2018
Tuesday, July 17, 2018
What does Poverty FEEL like in Canada?
Today, a study from the Angus Reid Institute was released. The study looks at what it means to be poor in Canada.
Yesterday, Jacqueline Hansen with CBC National spoke with me, in regards to this study.
But, we can focus on what it means to be poor in Canada, as much as we can focus on how if feels to be poor in Canada.
I fall into the category, as the "struggling".
I struggle to pay my bills on time. I struggle to go out and be an active part of society.
It feels degrading, scary, anxiety provoking, hopeless, and despairing.
One of the first things that are taken away when you live in poverty? The persons dignity.
We are vulnerable to stigmas, predators, and a system that perpetuates poverty.
But, we are also strong, resourceful, and make a stronger community.
I have to rely on gifts to get new clothing, furniture.
I have to rely on gift cards or my parents for food and other necessities.
I feel like a failure, a burden. To myself, my family, as well as a member of society.
This is Canada. This is supposed to be one of the best places to live in the world.
Unfortunately, for many of us, this is not the case.
We do not prosper.
You can read the Angus Reid Institute study here: http://angusreid.org/poverty-in-canada/
Yesterday, Jacqueline Hansen with CBC National spoke with me, in regards to this study.
But, we can focus on what it means to be poor in Canada, as much as we can focus on how if feels to be poor in Canada.
I fall into the category, as the "struggling".
I struggle to pay my bills on time. I struggle to go out and be an active part of society.
It feels degrading, scary, anxiety provoking, hopeless, and despairing.
One of the first things that are taken away when you live in poverty? The persons dignity.
We are vulnerable to stigmas, predators, and a system that perpetuates poverty.
But, we are also strong, resourceful, and make a stronger community.
I have to rely on gifts to get new clothing, furniture.
I have to rely on gift cards or my parents for food and other necessities.
I feel like a failure, a burden. To myself, my family, as well as a member of society.
This is Canada. This is supposed to be one of the best places to live in the world.
Unfortunately, for many of us, this is not the case.
We do not prosper.
You can read the Angus Reid Institute study here: http://angusreid.org/poverty-in-canada/
Thursday, June 14, 2018
Alberta Works CPAP request.
Well, So, you THINK you KNOW how the system works, do you?
Well, if you have never been on Alberta Works, you really don't KNOW how it works. OR, IF it "Works" for that matter.
In 2016 my CPAP machine for my sleep apnea broke down. I was given a temporary machine until I was approved for a new one through Alberta Works.
In the fall of 2017, Alberta Works requested that I get more testing done for Alberta Income for the Severely Handicapped (AISH), to approve of the CPAP machine.
So, I went and had a Pulmonary Function Test done, and another sleep study done. And was sent to Alberta Works on January 29, 2018.
Alberta Works sent the information to AISH on February 13, 2018.
On March 21, 2018, my social worker received an email back from AISH, asking for me to get a Level 3 sleep assessment done in order to confirm diagnosis. THIS had been done and completed, and sent in to Alberta Works in January.
On March 23, 2018, Respiratory Home Care solutions sent this information back to Alberta Works.
On April 4, 2018, Alberta Works received 2nd request for CPAP with documentation, and Alberta Works emailed this to AISH.
On April 13, 2018, Alberta Works received an email back from AISH. The second request for a CPAP machine was NOT supported, and they were requesting documents from my initial diagnosis.
On April 24, 2018, Respiratory Home Care Solutions faxed this information, to Alberta Works.
On April 20, 2018, the initial diagnosis testing documents were received by Alberta works and submitted to AISH.
This morning, I spoke with my social worker, and she indicated in the initial phone call that they never received the initial diagnosis, and asked me once again to send in this information, I informed her that it was sent in APRIL, and she stated she did NOT have it in her file.
So......I called Respiratory Home Care Solutions, asked them to once again, send the information to Alberta Works.
In my phone call to my Alberta Works social worker, this afternoon, to ask her and confirm she sent the information. She stated that, "Oh, I found the paperwork that was sent in April."
So, today, June 14, 2018, we are once again, waiting for AISH to approve my CPAP machine.
For someone who struggles with physical and mental health issues, this is NOT how ANYONE, who is trying to improve their health should be treated.
Sure a lot of miscommunication, and unnecessary stress for someone.
I never wanted it to come this way, but I have now had no choice to advocate for myself, and sent a letter to my MLA, and the Minister of Health, and the Minister of Social Services.
I'd rather their time be spent fixing the issues as a whole, than focusing on an individual's issues, to maintain a healthy lifestyle.
Well, if you have never been on Alberta Works, you really don't KNOW how it works. OR, IF it "Works" for that matter.
In 2016 my CPAP machine for my sleep apnea broke down. I was given a temporary machine until I was approved for a new one through Alberta Works.
In the fall of 2017, Alberta Works requested that I get more testing done for Alberta Income for the Severely Handicapped (AISH), to approve of the CPAP machine.
So, I went and had a Pulmonary Function Test done, and another sleep study done. And was sent to Alberta Works on January 29, 2018.
Alberta Works sent the information to AISH on February 13, 2018.
On March 21, 2018, my social worker received an email back from AISH, asking for me to get a Level 3 sleep assessment done in order to confirm diagnosis. THIS had been done and completed, and sent in to Alberta Works in January.
On March 23, 2018, Respiratory Home Care solutions sent this information back to Alberta Works.
On April 4, 2018, Alberta Works received 2nd request for CPAP with documentation, and Alberta Works emailed this to AISH.
On April 13, 2018, Alberta Works received an email back from AISH. The second request for a CPAP machine was NOT supported, and they were requesting documents from my initial diagnosis.
On April 24, 2018, Respiratory Home Care Solutions faxed this information, to Alberta Works.
On April 20, 2018, the initial diagnosis testing documents were received by Alberta works and submitted to AISH.
This morning, I spoke with my social worker, and she indicated in the initial phone call that they never received the initial diagnosis, and asked me once again to send in this information, I informed her that it was sent in APRIL, and she stated she did NOT have it in her file.
So......I called Respiratory Home Care Solutions, asked them to once again, send the information to Alberta Works.
In my phone call to my Alberta Works social worker, this afternoon, to ask her and confirm she sent the information. She stated that, "Oh, I found the paperwork that was sent in April."
So, today, June 14, 2018, we are once again, waiting for AISH to approve my CPAP machine.
For someone who struggles with physical and mental health issues, this is NOT how ANYONE, who is trying to improve their health should be treated.
Sure a lot of miscommunication, and unnecessary stress for someone.
I never wanted it to come this way, but I have now had no choice to advocate for myself, and sent a letter to my MLA, and the Minister of Health, and the Minister of Social Services.
I'd rather their time be spent fixing the issues as a whole, than focusing on an individual's issues, to maintain a healthy lifestyle.
Tuesday, April 3, 2018
Suicide Talk
As I said in the previous blog, no one talked about my cousin's suicide. It was hush, hush.
The things that I did hear about suicide, were awful.
"People who kill themselves are going to hell."
Like in the movie, "The Kingdom of Heaven." Where the woman who died by suicide's head was cut off, because she would not need her eyes in hell.
"People who kill themselves are weak."
"They took the cowards way out."
"They 'committed' suicide." As if it is a criminal offense.
Hurtful words, probably from people who either:
1. Don't understand what is going through the mind of the suicidal person.
or
2. Trying to scare people not to off themselves.
What I say next is going to be controversial to a lot of people.
I believe that God understands what people are going through when they decide to end their lives. And I don't believe, that the loving God I know, would send people to a place where they felt they belonged in on earth. Earth, to some people, is hell.
People who take their lives are not weak or a coward, it takes courage and guts to end your life on earth. It's not a decision that comes lightly to those who want to leave this earth.
People die, by suicide. They don't "commit" anything. They are not criminals. And I'm so glad that the language being used in this day and age is being changed.
The people who are left behind, are sad, and angry at the loss of their loved ones. I can understand this. I can also, very much understand, that I would want people to be happy for me.
I would be at peace.
No longer suffering.
And I would hope that is what people could be able to see, and feel, and know.
I would also hope, that they talk about it. And don't become silent from it.
Because talking, provides healing. And that's what people need after a suicide.
The things that I did hear about suicide, were awful.
"People who kill themselves are going to hell."
Like in the movie, "The Kingdom of Heaven." Where the woman who died by suicide's head was cut off, because she would not need her eyes in hell.
"People who kill themselves are weak."
"They took the cowards way out."
"They 'committed' suicide." As if it is a criminal offense.
Hurtful words, probably from people who either:
1. Don't understand what is going through the mind of the suicidal person.
or
2. Trying to scare people not to off themselves.
What I say next is going to be controversial to a lot of people.
I believe that God understands what people are going through when they decide to end their lives. And I don't believe, that the loving God I know, would send people to a place where they felt they belonged in on earth. Earth, to some people, is hell.
People who take their lives are not weak or a coward, it takes courage and guts to end your life on earth. It's not a decision that comes lightly to those who want to leave this earth.
People die, by suicide. They don't "commit" anything. They are not criminals. And I'm so glad that the language being used in this day and age is being changed.
The people who are left behind, are sad, and angry at the loss of their loved ones. I can understand this. I can also, very much understand, that I would want people to be happy for me.
I would be at peace.
No longer suffering.
And I would hope that is what people could be able to see, and feel, and know.
I would also hope, that they talk about it. And don't become silent from it.
Because talking, provides healing. And that's what people need after a suicide.
Monday, April 2, 2018
April 19th One Brave Night
After my first suicide attempt, I ran away from home and lived on the streets off and on. Unable toaw control my emotions, or understand them, I just did not deal with them, and ran.
My darling parents, were at a loss as well. They loved me, accepted me, but I think, did not know how to deal with me and my emotional behavior.
When I was 18 I returned home. After dealing with yet another suicide attempt, although it was more of a cry for help this time. I took pills once again, the only way I knew how to get away from the controlling boyfriend I had at the time.
I had gone back to school while living with him. He despised this idea, and burnt all of my hard work. This school gave me hope, that I might be smarter than I actually felt, receiving 80's for the first time in my life. But my boyfriend scared me, so I took the pills in the hopes that the doctor's at the hospital would see that I was in danger, and get me the help that I needed.
They did not recognize my fear for him though, so I had to leave on my own, and went back to live with my parents.
It was April 19th, 1993. The day that changed family dynamics forever.
My mother and I were on the couch in the basement. We had just finished watching the Waco Texas massacre on CTV News, and had moved on to the weather, when the phone rang.
You can tell something is wrong with someone's tone of voice. I heard my mother's voice change on the phone.
When she had finished talking to my Aunt, she turned to me and told me what she had just discussed on the phone.
My cousin was dead.
She died by suicide.
It would be a few days before we learned the details of what happened. My dear cousin had taken a shotgun under a bridge, and pulled the trigger, leaving a husband, and three teenage children behind.
I wish I had recognized the signs of her suicide the last time we had seen her. Noticed something that was different about her that would have helped me reach our to her. But, alas, that was not the case.
Most importantly, her death, and her life, was hushed and silenced. No one spoke about her, or the incident.
This is what kills me the most about her death.
That no one speaks of it.
That day,
On April 19th.
My darling parents, were at a loss as well. They loved me, accepted me, but I think, did not know how to deal with me and my emotional behavior.
When I was 18 I returned home. After dealing with yet another suicide attempt, although it was more of a cry for help this time. I took pills once again, the only way I knew how to get away from the controlling boyfriend I had at the time.
I had gone back to school while living with him. He despised this idea, and burnt all of my hard work. This school gave me hope, that I might be smarter than I actually felt, receiving 80's for the first time in my life. But my boyfriend scared me, so I took the pills in the hopes that the doctor's at the hospital would see that I was in danger, and get me the help that I needed.
They did not recognize my fear for him though, so I had to leave on my own, and went back to live with my parents.
It was April 19th, 1993. The day that changed family dynamics forever.
My mother and I were on the couch in the basement. We had just finished watching the Waco Texas massacre on CTV News, and had moved on to the weather, when the phone rang.
You can tell something is wrong with someone's tone of voice. I heard my mother's voice change on the phone.
When she had finished talking to my Aunt, she turned to me and told me what she had just discussed on the phone.
My cousin was dead.
She died by suicide.
It would be a few days before we learned the details of what happened. My dear cousin had taken a shotgun under a bridge, and pulled the trigger, leaving a husband, and three teenage children behind.
I wish I had recognized the signs of her suicide the last time we had seen her. Noticed something that was different about her that would have helped me reach our to her. But, alas, that was not the case.
Most importantly, her death, and her life, was hushed and silenced. No one spoke about her, or the incident.
This is what kills me the most about her death.
That no one speaks of it.
That day,
On April 19th.
Sunday, April 1, 2018
One Brave Night
On April 6th, is a day that I have joined the challenge to raise much more than money for the Canadian Mental Health Association, but awareness, of how devastating mental illness effects people.
What is One Brave Night? And where does this money go?
In its first three years, CAMH One Brave Night for Mental Health™ has has rallied over 3,000 brave participants and more than 11,000 donors, raising more than $2 million. The efforts of participants and donors have helped:
Much like, an illness, of the body, effects the body.
I was in Grade 7. When I first started my self-harm behavior. In Industrial Arts class. The challenge then was to take sandpaper to your wrist, and see how far you can go before you yelled out "SISSY".
I went deep. I never realized it then, what I was doing. I thought I was just playing a game.
It was when I was 15, I took 150 pills into my Junior High School bathroom.
I took pills in the basement during morning class, first the pills, then drink the water. Pills, and more water.
After, I continued to class. Higher than a kite. In very slow motion. I sat in class, pills infecting my body, preparing it to die.
Why did I do this? I know I hated my life. No one understood me, and I did not understand myself.
It was not until late that evening, my best friend noticed that something was wrong.
I confessed to her what I had done.
We went to the walk-in clinic. The doctor phoned my parents. From there they picked me up and took me to the Foothill's hospital.
I stayed for 7 days. Hooked up to an Intravenous. Made to drink charcoal. Only to throw it up, and have to drink more.
When I was released, no diagnosis was given, just to see a psychologist.
When what I had done was brought to the attention of my school counselor, his response was:
"This is a phase, she will grow out of it. She was seeking attention."
Damaging words from a professional.
You see, all the professionals. Knew what was going on with me. But sadly, there was no treatment for people like me at this time.
We were the un-treatable. Professionals refused to touch us. We were the throw aways.
This was the beginning.
You can follow my journey at #OneBraveNight
What is One Brave Night? And where does this money go?
In its first three years, CAMH One Brave Night for Mental Health™ has has rallied over 3,000 brave participants and more than 11,000 donors, raising more than $2 million. The efforts of participants and donors have helped:
- Create three new youth clinics to help address the gap in mental health treatment.
- Inspire hope through discovery by testing new treatment options for people with severe and treatment-resistant depression.
- Publish over 500 journal articles, sharing the incredible discoveries made at CAMH.
- Continue to redevelop CAMH facilities to build treatment, education and research spaces that reflect respect for patients and hope for recovery.
- Expand effective and timely access to mental health services in remote and underserved communities around the country through technology and access to telepsychiatry.
Much like, an illness, of the body, effects the body.
I was in Grade 7. When I first started my self-harm behavior. In Industrial Arts class. The challenge then was to take sandpaper to your wrist, and see how far you can go before you yelled out "SISSY".
I went deep. I never realized it then, what I was doing. I thought I was just playing a game.
It was when I was 15, I took 150 pills into my Junior High School bathroom.
I took pills in the basement during morning class, first the pills, then drink the water. Pills, and more water.
After, I continued to class. Higher than a kite. In very slow motion. I sat in class, pills infecting my body, preparing it to die.
Why did I do this? I know I hated my life. No one understood me, and I did not understand myself.
It was not until late that evening, my best friend noticed that something was wrong.
I confessed to her what I had done.
We went to the walk-in clinic. The doctor phoned my parents. From there they picked me up and took me to the Foothill's hospital.
I stayed for 7 days. Hooked up to an Intravenous. Made to drink charcoal. Only to throw it up, and have to drink more.
When I was released, no diagnosis was given, just to see a psychologist.
When what I had done was brought to the attention of my school counselor, his response was:
"This is a phase, she will grow out of it. She was seeking attention."
Damaging words from a professional.
You see, all the professionals. Knew what was going on with me. But sadly, there was no treatment for people like me at this time.
We were the un-treatable. Professionals refused to touch us. We were the throw aways.
This was the beginning.
You can follow my journey at #OneBraveNight
Thursday, February 15, 2018
The question of racism
It is with a very sad and heavy heart that I write this blog. My heart breaks, as I watch the world unfold around me. I try to make sense of it, but I can't. I don't understand, and I think that's what frustrates me the most.
I've been asked many questions over the last week. Questions that I don't have answers for. I don't understand all of it, I don't think that I'm supposed to.
Someone asked me if I have experienced racism.
Directly? No.
Indirectly, absolutely!!
I experienced it when I sent my boyfriend who was First Nations to the store when my son was young to get some Vanilla Extract for his birthday cake. He came back with no vanilla extract. Why? Because the sales clerk refused to sell it to him. Why? Because, you know, vanilla extract has alcohol in it.
I was livid. I marched to the store, which will be unnamed, because it's not the only store that does it. I went to the shelf, got the vanilla extract down, walked to the cashier (the one who refused the item to my boyfriend), and she sold it to me. No questions asked.
I then asked to speak to her manager and raised the problem with them.
Most people don't know this, but my son has Metis background. By standing idly by, and seeing un-justices done to those of First Nations people, is saying that I refuse to stand up for my son's heritage, something that he should be proud of.
Do I think it's okay for the federal government to give money to the First Nations reserves, yes!! Sadly, money is the least their doing for them.
Turning a blind eye to over 1200 murdered and missing indigenous women and children, is like saying that I am complicit in their disappearances and murder.
Saying it's "Okay", that police officer's drive indigenous people up, and drive them out to the middle of nowhere, in -40 degree whether, does not sit right with me.
Such a huge representation of indigenous people in the criminal justice system, is wrong.
I should be thankful for my white privilege, instead, I'm ashamed.
Why does a reservation improperly manage their finances? I don't know. Why do our municipalities, provinces, and federal government improperly manage their finances?
My only answer is: Find out why. Go to the reserves, talk to the band councils, and learn the issues.
Why don't the indigenous parents teach their children from right and wrong?
Wait a minute.....
They do.
My parents taught me from right and wrong. I was a rebellious teenager, and I caused shit.
Why are there shootings, and stabbings, and suicides, and drug issues on reservations?
I don't know.
Why are there shooting, and stabbings, and suicides, and drug issues in towns and cities?
These are hard conversations to have with our friends, neighbors, families.
They're also very important conversations to have.
But, I don't have all the answers. So I go to my communities, I ask the hard questions, I listen, learn, and maybe not completely understand, but I empathize.
Because to do otherwise, is being complicit.
I've been asked many questions over the last week. Questions that I don't have answers for. I don't understand all of it, I don't think that I'm supposed to.
Someone asked me if I have experienced racism.
Directly? No.
Indirectly, absolutely!!
I experienced it when I sent my boyfriend who was First Nations to the store when my son was young to get some Vanilla Extract for his birthday cake. He came back with no vanilla extract. Why? Because the sales clerk refused to sell it to him. Why? Because, you know, vanilla extract has alcohol in it.
I was livid. I marched to the store, which will be unnamed, because it's not the only store that does it. I went to the shelf, got the vanilla extract down, walked to the cashier (the one who refused the item to my boyfriend), and she sold it to me. No questions asked.
I then asked to speak to her manager and raised the problem with them.
Most people don't know this, but my son has Metis background. By standing idly by, and seeing un-justices done to those of First Nations people, is saying that I refuse to stand up for my son's heritage, something that he should be proud of.
Do I think it's okay for the federal government to give money to the First Nations reserves, yes!! Sadly, money is the least their doing for them.
Turning a blind eye to over 1200 murdered and missing indigenous women and children, is like saying that I am complicit in their disappearances and murder.
Saying it's "Okay", that police officer's drive indigenous people up, and drive them out to the middle of nowhere, in -40 degree whether, does not sit right with me.
Such a huge representation of indigenous people in the criminal justice system, is wrong.
I should be thankful for my white privilege, instead, I'm ashamed.
Why does a reservation improperly manage their finances? I don't know. Why do our municipalities, provinces, and federal government improperly manage their finances?
My only answer is: Find out why. Go to the reserves, talk to the band councils, and learn the issues.
Why don't the indigenous parents teach their children from right and wrong?
Wait a minute.....
They do.
My parents taught me from right and wrong. I was a rebellious teenager, and I caused shit.
Why are there shootings, and stabbings, and suicides, and drug issues on reservations?
I don't know.
Why are there shooting, and stabbings, and suicides, and drug issues in towns and cities?
These are hard conversations to have with our friends, neighbors, families.
They're also very important conversations to have.
But, I don't have all the answers. So I go to my communities, I ask the hard questions, I listen, learn, and maybe not completely understand, but I empathize.
Because to do otherwise, is being complicit.
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