Systemic Reform Required

Our system (health, justice, social development, the whole deal) is failing us.  Today I write with a heavy heart.  Today I write in utter disbelief on what we have to deal with.  I write in frustration for the barriers that exist. 

My clientele are homeless or marginally housed.  They are low-income and many are unable to work, for a variety of reasons.  Many struggle with addictions.  Many struggle with disabling conditions of mental health.  Many struggle with both addiction and mental health.  Most have horrific stories that involve sexual abuse, physical abuse, mental abuse, neglect.  Many grew up in foster care.  Many of their families struggle with similar issues.  There are two and three generations of families that frequent our doors.  There are many clients who have diagnosed or undiagnosed physical or mental conditions, such as FASD, Autism, generalized intellectual delay or physical ailments. We have a handful of clients who are wheelchair bound, and more who require the aid of a cane to get around. Our clients are from multiple nationalities, including Aboriginal.  They are seen as less than human, “scum”, worthless members of society, wasting resources, undeserving of support and services, to describe just a few of the phrases I have heard them described as.

Many of my clients do not have a family doctor they can see about any ailments they have.  Many have recently been “fired” from their family doctor.   The stories coming from our guests is familiar: their long-term doctor retired and the new doctor decided they didn’t need their pain killers (it’s an addiction not really required).  These patients, in pain and suffering withdrawal from the powerful narcotics they have been using for many years, escalate and tell the doctor that they need their prescription. They are “fired” for escalating and most likely raising their voice in frustration. They are “fired” for being a junkie.  And within a month, these people take more drastic measures; normally looking like attempted suicide because they cannot live this life anymore.  We call 9-1-1 to help them.  In my experience, the first (and only) responders are the RCMP, who cuff the individual and maybe take them to the hospital but more likely take them to cells.

Without a family doctor, and unable to go into health establishments for “inappropriate behaviour”, our people are left only with the Emergency Room at the local hospital.  The experiences at the hospital have a similar ring to them as well.  “I waited for three hours for them to tell me I am a degenerate and unworthy of their attention.  I waited three hours for them to deny me services.  When I questioned them, stating I am in a need of medical attention, they tell me they will call the RCMP to have me removed”.  I hear things like “they told me my condition did not require medical attention, but I never saw the doctor”.  This happens to males and females, Aboriginal and non-Aboriginals.  It is more noteworthy when we have a guest who is actually seen at the hospital and not just sent away without receiving any care.

There is a distinct lack of services available to the people I serve.  The unit for psychiatric assessment and stabilization, which includes management of chemical withdrawal only has eight beds and the beds are normally full.  We have been told in the last couple of months that chemical withdrawal is no longer a treatment they can provide.  That means that there is nowhere in town that can offer detox services.  We have a centre called “Mental Health and Addiction Services”.  Our guests that have both mental health and addiction issues are turned away at both ends.  Mental health cannot treat them if they are actively using.  Addiction says that they psychosis they experience is not an addiction issue but a mental health issue.  (I do not see why the two teams cannot work together and help find a solution to the problem!).  Our guests also have their files closed at Mental Health and Addiction because they miss appointments.  I understand that the case loads are heavy, but having an understanding of mental health issues or addiction issues will tell you that appointments are hard for people to keep.  These clinicians make no effort to come to the client.  They then have to go through the entire intake process and wait for a clinician to be assigned to them, thus ruining any relationship they may have had with their previous worker.  It is a new thing every time, including telling their story over again to someone they do not know or trust.

We had a woman who had a heroin addiction, and was using heavily.  She knew she was in trouble.  She tried to get into the psychiatric treatment ward, whose mandate states the unit is “to provide psychiatric assessment and stabilization, including management of chemical withdrawal” but was told there were no beds.  She called the next town and put herself on the waiting list for the detoxification centre there.  She wasn’t sure how she would get there but knew she needed to help herself.  She overdosed several times, requiring the use of a defibrillator.  She showed up at the homeless shelter and asked us to clean the wound caused by one of the defibrillators.  The wound was infected (I did not see it but a nurse who works with us described it as the grossest thing she has ever seen).  We told this woman she needed to go to the hospital for treatment.  She said she couldn’t go there again, that she didn’t receive treatment in the past.  We sent a staff member with her and she had the wound cleaned and was given antibiotics.  The doctor at the hospital gave a referral for medical supplies so that she could clean and dress her chest wound herself (or, I guess, have the staff at the homeless shelter do it).  As she couldn’t afford to buy the supplies, she had to put in an application to the Ministry of Social Development for emergency medical supplies funding.  The hoops that had to be jumped through to keep this wound clean!  It was a good thing that we were there to help her because there were a lot of steps to getting funding to provide the supplies needed.  It wasn’t even a week after we learned of her infection that she passed away.

We had a man who had been living in his own place for about two months.  He came back to the shelter incredibly sick.  He was delusional and hallucinating.  He was weak and barely able to walk.  He was coughing up blood.  He said he had been to the hospital and they had run some tests.  He said he was supposed to come back in a week.  Our staff took action after a couple of days of him being sick and went to a doctor’s appointment with him.  The doctor told us he had pneumonia and gave us a prescription.  He continued to get worse.  Our janitorial staff reported there were pools of dried blood under his bed.  We took him to the hospital for more tests.  His EKG was way out of whack, his heart was not working properly.  It was our nurse who took him to the hospital.  She thought he would be admitted that day.  He wasn’t.  He was sent back to the homeless shelter.  That same night we had to call an ambulance for him.  He died two days later.

We have a young woman who wants to get help with her addiction.  I watched her struggle to say clean for a week while trying to get into treatment.  A staff member and her attended the hospital with the hopes of getting into the local detox and were turned away.  This young woman then called the next town and put herself on the waiting list for detox there.  She called them daily looking for a bed.  She wanted to get clean and knows she cannot do it on her own (and that we are not qualified or capable to help her in the current setting).  She waited all week.  Then the chance was gone for a while.  She has tried to check herself into the psychiatric ward at least another time since.  She came back to the shelter in tears.  She was called names and put down by the nurses at the hospital.  She was told that she had refused treatment last time she was in (she had waited several hours and had left because she had not seen a doctor yet) and that they weren’t going to waste their time with her again.  Defeated, she told me that she would never go to the hospital again because it wasn’t worth her dignity. 

We have a young man who was admitted into the psychiatric facility for a week.  When he was released from the facility, he came and talked to us about treatment options for himself.  He got himself accepted into a treatment facility in a different part of the province for young men.  He did everything on his own, with our encouragement and guidance.  He applied for extra money on top of his disability cheque to buy his bus ticket and the supplies he needs to attend this treatment program.  The Ministry of Social Development was happy to pay his bus ticket and his food/clothing allowance but balked at the intake fee required by the treatment centre.  It is a private treatment centre so they refused to pay the fee.  Frustrated, he told me he should just hang himself.  I encouraged him to hang on, to let us make some calls.  Our staff called the treatment centre, advocated for him, praised him for taking all the steps on his own, and the treatment centre agreed to take him without the intake fee.  This young man is over the moon happy that he is off to turn his life around.  This is my only success story today.

We have a young man, who struggles with drug induced psychosis (so no help from Mental Health and Addictions because he is the classic example of how the teams cannot work together to help him – is it addiction or is it mental health help he needs?).  When this young man is escalating, the only choice staff have if they are unable to calm him, is to call the RCMP on him and have him removed from our premises.  We try not to call the RCMP on him, as it is a breach of his trust in us as people who are on his side and want to help him, but sometimes it is for the safety of himself and our other guests that we have to make the call.  Last week this young man was called into the RCMP by a community member.  The RCMP were able to get him admitted into the psychiatric ward for 24 hours under the Mental Health Act.  When he returned to the shelter he was incredibly upset that staff would betray him like that.  We assured him that we did not make the call but he was unable to believe us.  Yesterday he assaulted a staff member while in a state of psychosis.  RCMP came and picked him up, and took him back the psychiatric facility.  He was turned away at the door.  RCMP told us that they could hold him for a couple hours but that they would have to release him.  Because he has put our staff safety at risk, he is being denied access to the only home he knows, the shelter.  We cannot allow him in as he is posing a safety risk to staff and other guests.  Our Executive Director is thinking we might have to charge him with assault so that he does jail time, as that is the only safe place for him right now.

This system is broken.  A mentally ill man, who is suffering right now, has been kicked out of the only place in town he is comfortable at all.  He has nowhere else to go.  We are the only shelter.  He does not have healthy family to live with. He is unwell and is unable to maintain his own house.  The psychiatric ward will not admit him.  Mental Health and Addiction say he is not their problem.  Our only option is to have him thrown in jail!  That is the last place we want him to be.  It breaks all of our hearts to have that decision made for us.

It is not the first, and it will not be the last time our guests have to do jail time because of their addiction.  Are there treatment options while they are in jail?  If he does his time can he not get the help he needs while there?  It doesn’t seem to be that way.  Our guests return clean.  Within a couple days they are back into their addiction.  I realize our facility does not help these guests to stay clean as there are so many addicted people around that it can be easy to fall back into the lifestyle. 

We need somewhere where people with addictions can go when they are ready to make a change.  It needs to be immediate access.  At least once a month a client tells us that they are tired of their lifestyle and want to make a change. They tell us that they are heading to the hospital to check themselves into the psychiatric unit.  About three hours later, they return, frustrated, defeated, and often having used their substance of choice quite heavily.  When they get turned away they feel like they may as well enjoy their substance because they can’t get off it on their own anyways.  We had a man who wanted to go to detox.  By the time we were able to get him a bed in detox, and even drove him to the centre, he didn’t want to go.  He was back in town the next day.  I asked him what happened.  He told me “I wanted to go on Tuesday.  By Friday, I didn’t want to go, so I came back”.  When someone wants to make a change in their lives there needs to be immediate access.  People need to be treated with dignity and respect.  They don’t need to be told they are wasting resources.  They don’t need to be called names.  My clients are as entitled to proper medical care as you and I.  I know that the one day I visited the same Emergency Room as my guests do, I waited three hours, but I saw a doctor, he was patient and he did his job.  I expect the same treatment for my clients.  My issue was probably less pressing than the issues my clients show up with, because I know for most of them, previous treatment tells them they will be treated poorly and they only go if they absolutely have to.

It is not okay.  The system is not okay.  Our guests are discriminated against from every angle.  They are on social assistance (and half the world thinks they should be drug tested to receive any money to live on).  Social assistance does not pay enough to live on.  They are addicts and have mental health issues, which is something that scares the general population. (I will admit that before I knew anything about mental health or addiction, it scared me a little too).  Society looks on our guests with disdain.  In conversations we hear a lot of “them vs us” – those people do blah, blah, blah.  Our guests are ignored when they go places, or treated rudely and threatened with RCMP.  In the six months I have worked at the shelter, our people have been told they cannot hang out here but over there.  This changes the next month and they get kicked further away.  Currently, they are allowed to gather on a sandbank on the river.  I am waiting for an accident where one of our guests falls into the river.  We are looking for a new facility as ours is beyond repair.  We have a location in mind, but our neighbours, Mental Health and Addiction do not think we are good neighbours.  Wouldn’t it be interesting if Mental Health and Addiction could see what we see in our guests, and be close enough to make meeting the client easier for the client?  I did not expect resistance from agencies I see as on our side, our partners.  Our guests have stories that will break your heart if you are willing to listen.  Our guests deserve the same treatment you and I expect.  I am so frustrated for them.  The system is broken and our guests suffer the most.

Career Contemplation

I have a dilemma.  It’s not really a dilemma, but it is to me.  I don’t know what I want to do.

I did my practicum with MCFD.  It was a good practicum, I liked my co-workers and was liked in return.  They had nothing bad to say about me.  All things you want in a practicum or any employment opportunity.  However, I remain unsure that child protection is something I want to do.  Now I am looking for work and have two MCFD jobs where I have made or will make the short list and have a good chance of getting on.  But I remain unsure if I want them.  I have a lot of reasons, I am just not sure they add up to enough. 

Reason 1.  I love volunteering.  In many ways, this is reasons 2, 3 and maybe 4 as well.  I need to connect with my community, since I am planning to stay here long term.  I want to get re-involved with Girl Guides and even sent the email in last night to see how I could volunteer.  I also need to make my own friends in the community.  Nick’s friends are great and we all get along, but they are Nick’s friends and I want my own.  I have always struggled with making friends, and volunteering has provided many of my closest friends.  The problem is that I see Girl Guides and MCFD as a conflict.  It is technically not, and many people at MCFD are involved in children’s lives outside of work.  I also know that work should not dictate how I live my life (although MCFD does ask certain things, which I totally understand).  My problem is that I don’t think parents can easily separate Jenna the Child Protection Worker from Jenna the Guide leader.  I think that some parents might pull their child from my unit, and there is not a lot of other options in a small community.  I think that parents will think that I am always judging them.  I don’t think people understand that every adult in this province is legally obligated to report child abuse.  I don’t want the girls to suffer because of my career choice.  The other problem I see is when a child in my unit becomes involved with the ministry.  Obviously she cannot fall on my caseload, but does it cause extra stress on the family that MCFD is in their lives in many ways.  What if I join a unit and there is a child already involved with MCFD.  I have talked to many people about this, and wrote it up as an ethical dilemma as part of my practicum.  I have had a discussion with my friends on Facebook about it.  I have had a discussion with one of my team leaders at MCFD.  My social work friends say that it is not a problem at all.  My friends that are parents (and not social workers) say that it comes down to my ability to separate my job from my volunteer.  I think it doesn’t matter if I am able to, it comes down to what parents are able to do.  My Team Leader told me that she originally tried to stay on volunteering but found that she felt it was a conflict in the end and had to stop her volunteer activities to keep her career.  She is the only person that has seen where I am coming from on this.  Nick tries to understand, but he doesn’t see the conflict I feel.  I think I have decided that I cannot work for MCFD and volunteer in the community.   This is a personal choice, or problem or whatever it is, but I just feel uncomfortable doing both.  Without volunteering in the community, I don’t know where else I am going to meet people and make new friends.  MCFD gained a reputation as baby snatchers (they have changed their practices now but reputations tend to remain) and I feel that people are not going to want to be friends with someone that can take their child at any time.  I know a friend of mine thinks that I judge her parenting and is just waiting for me to betray her.  She openly told me this.  I can only imagine how other parents feel about MCFD involvement in their lives.  And it is just that, I will always be MCFD.  I know co-workers at MCFD told me that their extended family always tell their kids (joking or not) that they have to behave when their aunt is there because she can take them away at any time.  I am not sure I want to start my time in the community “hated” by parents.

Reason 2 (or is it 5?).  The best part about social work, is working with people.  MCFD doesn’t provide any direct services to people – they use community agencies to provide services.  It is community agencies that work with the parents to improve their skills, work with children to gain a routine.  The role of an MCFD social worker is to ensure the child is safe and refer to community agencies.  We interview children but do not become a part of their lives in any way.  I LOVED working at the house in Kamloops because I was working directly with the people.  Yes, there were chores and things I didn’t like so much, but I loved taking the people to their activities and being a part of their lives.  When I interviewed for that Team Lead position for adults with disabilities, I kept thinking to myself, I don’t want to be the team leader, I want to be the community inclusion worker.  I guess I want to feel like I am making a difference in someone’s life, and I want to feel important.  I fear that with MCFD, I will feel more defeated than important.  Yes, I know that is a very selfish answer. 

As part of this reason, I am pretty sure I will be offered a casual position with the Emergency Shelter.  They basically told me I had it as long as my references checked out.  This would start as casual, and involve graveyard shifts. They hinted that there may be positions available in the near future though.  I started in Kamloops as casual and had a position before I finished my training hours.  This job works directly with the population it serves.  Meals are prepared for the people, beds are provided.  Workers get to know the individuals and what works for them.  MCFD workers have such a heavy caseload that they never get to spend the time getting to know the people they are helping.  In this way, taking the Shelter job and seeing where it goes appeals to me a lot more.  But I have also heard that some people get only a shift a month working there, and that is not going to work for me at all.  In our discussion yesterday, it came up that people who got on at MCFD found working at the shelter afterwards to be a conflict and had to quit the shelter.  The Shelter offers lots of trainings to their staff, many of which can be applied to many areas of life, such as Suicide Prevention, Mental Health First Aid etc.  MCFD obviously has a lot of training too, but it is less transferable in my opinion.  However, I have heard that people who have worked at MCFD (and even just done their practicum there) are highly employable because the training at MCFD is so good.

There are of course, reasons that MCFD is a better choice.  Both of the current positions offer benefits and vacation (one job pays both out as it is only part time).  The Ministry is one of the highest paying jobs in social work.  I know that I could stay for many years and am not going to lose my job because funding gets cut or something dumb.  The Ministry can always use more employees, but there has been a hiring freeze in the part.  Nick likes the Ministry because it is stable and safer.  He worries about me working with homeless and addicts.  He thinks I will become too attached and get hurt if they relapse.  He has a point, but I think social workers get hurt in any job.  You can become too attached to a client at MCFD as well.  It’s part of being a social worker to find out your boundaries and enforce them.

I am still working towards my FASD Support Worker Diploma.  A better paying job will help me pay that tuition easier than a casual job.  If I am working full time and doing a course, I might not have time for volunteering anyways.  I have signed up to take a course starting at the end of September and plan on taking on in the spring semester as well.  The ministry is typically a two year commitment (unless you don’t pass your probation), which gets me much further in my schooling.  But I had kind of decided to forego the “good job” in order to make friends.

I know that I do not have any of these jobs yet.   But I just don’t feel like I will be happy at the ministry.  In my practicum, I came home tired every night and half the week didn’t want to go to work.  I know that the student role and the employee role are different and I will have more to do.  I will have my own caseload and get to make decisions instead of doing paper work for other people.  And if I get the job where doing paperwork for other people is my role, at least I know ahead of time what that entails!

I cried when talking to Nick about what to do earlier today. I don’t think it was a “the ministry will make me cry” cry but more that the ministry might take away other chances to make friends and I am lonely cry.  I am not that lonely, I don’t do people well at the best of times, but this week I am feeling lonely and I want something to do that forces me out of the house.  I know a job will help with that as well but I just feel like I need my own life and don’t know the best way to go about finding it.  I know that soon Nick’s fall activities will start and he will be home less often again.  I want to have things to do as well!

I guess I know I need to go ahead with the process for both MCFD jobs, and see what happens with the shelter as well.  I just feel so conflicted about getting an MCFD job, whereas I think that any other social work job would not cause the same torment inside me.  I have never really been in a situation where I could pick and choose what jobs I got (and I am not there yet, but there is a lot of thought about it!).  I don’t know what my dream job might be.  I don’t know what I want to do with this social work degree, but I know it was the right degree for me.  I haven’t said it in a while, but I felt like I fit in for the first time in my life when I entered the BSW program.  I found people who think the same way, who feel the same way.  Part of me wants to explore more social work options – that is another reason why the shelter is appealing right now – it is something new that I get to try.  A new population with things I have never experienced.  But can a girl who has been sober her entire life help an addict?

I also know a lot of my issues boil down to a lack of self-esteem and confidence.  This is a problem I have always struggled with.  It is clearly not getting better now!

This was mostly a rant to get my thoughts a little sorted, but opinions are always welcome!

Healing Happiness

Facebook very helpfully told me I had a mental breakdown six years ago.  It wasn’t obvious, as it was just a picture.  But, it is a picture I took when I was feeling lost.  I had quit my job and got on the next bus out of town.  I felt destroyed as a human being.  My depression was at one of it’s worst (it would get worse almost a year later but it was rough).  This post made me laugh in a way, but sad in other ways.  That was my life.

I don’t want to dwell on that.  That was a rough year or two in my life.  I made bad decisions and ended up in a bad place.  We have all been there.  We move on.

I have spent the last couple hours thinking about that.  I took a depression/anxiety/drinking test for school today.  Obviously, I don’t have anxiety or a drinking problem.  It also said I don’t really have depression.  I had been thinking about reducing my anti-depressants again this spring.  I think with that knowledge under my belt, I will try.

My life today is pretty much perfect.  I just finished two years on my second degree program, and for the first time in my life, felt like I fit in.  I have made amazing friends in that program, and I am sure that they are lifelong friends.  Those of us that made it through still smiling at each other are meant to be.  I am so thankful for everyone!

I am about to start a practicum that could challenge me to my very core.  I am a little nervous, but also excited and proud.  If I am able to excel at this practicum, I could have a job with the ministry for a while.  This would play well into a FASD role in my future – a program which I have just started another course for.  Ideally, I could end up doing a couple years with the ministry and then do a practicum for FASD and be perfectly qualified!  I feel entirely ready to start this role.  And if it doesn’t work for me in the ministry, well, I still have a BSW and am about to embark on an amazing journey.

I made a decision to make things work with Nick in October.  We are about a month into living together, although it has been a little gradual as I have been out of town.  Nick and I obviously have some things we need to work out as we have never lived together or even close enough to have our lives entwine.  We are falling into a good routine.  Sometimes we have communication breakdowns, but we are working through them.  A month in and it feels like the right decision.  I am settling into Quesnel.   I have bought a resident pass at the swimming pool.  The course I am taking for FASD has a project where I have to commit to change during the course.  Nick and I have decided to make healthy living our goal, and we are doing it together.  I can’t think of a better way to start our lives together than becoming more healthy, together.  We will be doing exercise together (or at the same time – I will go to the pool and he will go to the gym in the same building sometimes).  I am happy to see this being forced on us in a good way!

I learned the other day that my problems from a decade ago where maybe all in my head.  I hated the girl I was in Wells, but from the sounds of other people’s experiences of Wells, mine were nothing to write home about at all.  I hated myself for whoring around a little that summer.  I blamed myself for exposure to HPV and hence cervical cancer.  In my head, everyone knew what I did, and I was important enough to remember.  Nick’s tattoo artist is a man I knew in Wells.  When we were introduced last week and I said we knew each other from a summer in Wells, he drew a complete blank.  At some point in the night, talk of Wells came up.  I listened quietly as the group talked about their own escapades.  There was talk about the couple having sex in the pathway on a tarp; of naked group bathing; the intense amount of drugs, and the random hook ups.  These are not my memories of Wells.  I know there were drugs, and I remember witnessing some hook ups.  I did not see the majority of what they talked about.  This made me feel a little better.  No one knows the girl that had a rough summer.  Everyone else has very similar, if not more, of the similar experiences.  When I told Nick this, he asked how I possibly did not see the same Wells as what the young people of Quesnel know about.  He asked what my experience of Wells had been.  The question was left hanging – what did I feel so bad about?  This has been an interesting development in my world.  Hopefully that means I can finally move forward from that as well.

So yes, Facebook, I had a mental breakdown six years ago.  Since then, I have been to Ghana twice, got a CELTA certificate, taught in China for a year, finished (almost) a BSW, and found a man that while we don’t have a lot in common, I think is worth fighting for.  And this girl, who had a mental breakdown a year ago, is in a great place!

Thanks to those of you who stuck out the last six years, and those of you I picked up along the way.  You are so wonderful and I love you so much!

Emotional Day!

Today has been an emotional day for me.  

My grandfather has been gone 16 years, but I think I am finally mature enough to understand what the world, and especially myself, lost that day.  I only have vague memories (my memory has never been great – it is going to suck to be my family if I ever have Alzheimer’s!) of a wonderful man.  I remember events which I know took place more often than normal conversations.  I hear his voice in prayers, but I cannot remember his laugh.  I have no specific memories of things we did, just him and I.  I was only 14 (technically I was 13 but close enough to 14) when he passed away.  I hadn’t learned yet that life is short and to hold onto and treasure those that matter.  I didn’t really know love, or loss.  I couldn’t see then all the spirit he had in him.  I can’t remember a single look of disappointment or a moment of anger from him.  We put his wheelchair in the lake more times than I can count and he laughed about it.  We were never in trouble for it.  I wish I had been more aware of the things he did and the love he possessed.  I remember fondly him jumping out of the boat in the middle of the lake and strangers being appalled when the boat left him out there to swim back to shore.  I remember curling up in his lap – he never complained about my bony bum!   I remember patience – he drove the boat while so many of us learned to water ski – and would drive the boat for hours to get us all out on the water.  I wish I had gone to Sunday school at the Lake instead of going swimming.  I wish I had known the value of quality time.

However, despite not remembering much about him, I know he has influenced my life.  I know my empathy for people with disabilities stems from knowing him.  I never saw my grandfather walk – he was in a wheelchair long before I was born.  But Polio never slowed him down.  I know the story where his children taunted him for the second floor, thinking a man that couldn’t use his legs was helpless to punish them.  Before they knew it, he had scooted up the stairs using his arms to give them what they deserved. We were told to make sure we didn’t put our sleeping bags in his way or he would run us over (I don’t think he ever would have, but the threat was there).  I know he was self-sufficient – he put his own wheelchair in the car, and drove himself many places.  While he let us pretend we were pushing him up the hill, I know he did the majority of the work himself.  I cannot watch someone with a disability struggle.  I like to offer my help, but accept that they might want to do it alone.  I feel an incredible anger when on public transit and someone is sitting in the reserved seats and does not move for someone less able bodied than them.  When I see someone struggling, I try to help!  I know how easy it is to go from able bodied to less able bodied, and I have seen the struggles people have when this happens.  I accept that help is not always appreciated, but that is a sense of pride.  I would rather offer than ignore the situation.

Despite this being the day we lost him, I cannot speak of him alone.  His wife played a huge role in the way I remember both of them.  My grandparents taught me the value of altruism without saying a word.  I was pretty young and helping pack and deliver Meals on Wheels around Vancouver while on vacation.  I learned to love helping other people – even in what seemed like such small ways. I volunteer a lot.  I can see how this has come from my grandparents.  I can see where Meals on Wheels brought joy to many people, and I am proud to bring joy to people I can help with.

My grandparents held Church gatherings at their house in Richmond – everyone was welcome and there was always plenty of food.  I know that had a poverty ridden knocked on their door, they would have helped him.  What a great way to live, and what a powerful way to influence your children and grandchildren.  My grandparent’s summer home was available to all at any time, without notice even being given.  I brought a friend one year, and they accepted her as one of their own.  Helping Grama in the kitchen throughout July I learned a lot about cooking for many – things I still use today.  The prayers before meals, even though I found them annoying at the time, brought the family closer together.  To this day, a man with a deep voice leading a table in prayer brings a smile to my face. 

I wish I had understood the value of the lessons you taught me when I was younger.  You offered what seems now to be unconditional love.  Sure, we disagreed on things (particularly as I aged, and more with Grama than Grampa – but he wasn’t around when I started making bad decisions!), but I know you told me with love the things you told me.  Most of our disagreements were related to religion, which I never saw value in (ironically, I am now trying to place religion, which is still a pretty foreign concept to me, into my life).  You were both so proud of me, of all of us.  You taught many valuable lessons which embody the life I am living.  I wonder if I had accepted these teachings (or even been aware of these teachings) earlier in my life if I wouldn’t have spent so many years filled with anger, distrust, depression and the other negative emotions which filled many of my teenage years.  I wonder if I would have found my life path sooner.  I know my trips to Ghana were supported by you – I used some of my inheritance money from you to support these trips.  I know my current life path would be one you would encourage me in.  I know I am here because of you.

I spent a lot of time thinking about you two today.  If I could have you for a different 14 years, I might have chosen a time when I was more able to see your value in my life.  However, with that said, I know I had you for my most influential years.  And, seeing the value of you 16 years later is better than never having you at all.

I attended a poverty simulation today, put on by the United Way.  For one hour, I was in a family unit, struggling with poverty. 

Poverty is not something I have ever experienced, although I think my Mom might say she has.  My Mom struggled when we were young – she was a single parent working full time and raising two children on her own.  Her own family was 800 km away, and I think pride said she couldn’t go back.  However, I never did without.  I learned early on that saving money was a good way to live, and have always had a backup savings account. 

I have lived amongst abject poverty, but again, I knew I could have whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted.  Living in Ghana made me realize how hard it could be to live in poverty.  I was asked on a fairly regular basis to help someone in the community with health care costs, with food costs, with transportation costs – with almost everything.  I remember one man, who knew my name, telling me that his daughter was going to die from malaria if I didn’t help them with the cost of the malaria medication.  Maybe I was selfish, but I was also paying any money I could into the orphanage with 30 small children who also needed help.  I told that man I couldn’t do it.  I don’t know what happened to his child.  I hope she lived. 

In Ghana, I also saw people sleeping on the street next to their shops.  Seeing is believing in this case – these people during the day portrayed the picture of happiness.  They were running their shops, their children were playing.  I had no idea what I was walking amongst.  An American woman who was in Ghana with me lived on $1 a day for a while.  However, all of our meals and water were provided for us, as was our shelter (a house with locks on doors).  Her $1 a day went to transportation, phone credit, internet use (she was writing a blog for a donor organization and had to check in), and extra supplies she might have needed – such as toilet paper, a pen or paper, or whatever!  But when transportation to the next town is 70 cents – she did have to save a couple of days to even travel.  Young children who sold water all day made 20 cents a day.  How does a family survive on that?

Today, I was in a family unit.  I was 16 and seven months pregnant.  My boyfriend was a high school dropout and was selling drugs to help his family.  My mother worked full time for $10.50 an hour. My father had lost his job four months ago, and his EI had run out.  I had a 10 and 8 year old brother.  When we first got our bills, we realized that we were automatically short $500 based on Mom’s earnings.  Right away, we decided to sell our TV, Stereo and Camera to make some extra cash.  We only had enough bus tickets for Mom to get to and from work for a week – not for anyone else to go anywhere (school was free transportation but only to school).  We sold our stuff to the pawn shop for 70% less than the value of the stuff – giving us only $90 from our extras.  The simulation was four 15 minute weeks with 3 minute weekends.  In 15 minutes, the parents were expected to pay our rent, go to full time jobs (had to be there for 5 minutes to get paid, and had to be on time or would be laid off for a week), buy the groceries, look for work, pay the utilities and run the house.  Because of our ages, the children stayed home.  It was also an extra bus ticket to take any of the children with the parents.  There were about 20 families participating (families could be single parents, single seniors, families, or whatever is out there!).  So you go to the bank to cash your paycheck and the line is long.  Turns out you wasted a whole week standing in line and not accomplishing anything – the bank closed before you got there.  My Father took Mom’s paycheck to the bank while Mom was at work – but Mom didn’t sign the cheque so Dad couldn’t cash it.  I had a pre-natal checkup and a parent had to come with me – that meant another day Dad couldn’t look for work.  In our first 2 weeks – we didn’t make it to the grocery store once.  The school had a field trip that was $2 for each child.  Our parents couldn’t afford the fieldtrip so we had to tell our teacher that we didn’t have the money for extras.  One week, I got kicked out of school for fighting – this actually helped our family a little bit – I was able to stand in line at the grocery store for food for us that week while my parents did other things (had one of my brothers been kicked out of school, I might have had to stay home with them as a sitter, or worse, one of parents would have had to stay home!).  But that was 2 transportation tickets as I had to take my brother with me (one of my brothers didn’t show up for the simulation but he was still in our scenario) because he is too young to spend the day at home alone.  One week at school my brother had an allergic reaction, which again meant standing in line at the clinic for one of our parents.  Groceries were $110 a week.  I brought $90 to the grocery store and they suggested I go see if Social Assistance can help me since I am expecting.  I go home and ask for another transportation ticket from my Mom to go to Social Services.  While I am filling out my application, they close.  The lady took pity on my condition and gave me $100 in food vouchers, but I had to go back (with another transportation ticket) to complete my file.  Turns out I wasn’t eligible for anything because my Mom works and Dad’s EI ran out.  I got another transportation ticket from Mom and took our vouchers to the grocery store, but it closed before I got in.  Two wasted transportation tickets for me that day!

As a child in this scenario, I didn’t have as much stress as my parents but my life was still stressed.  I needed food to keep my baby healthy.  The health clinic told me I wasn’t eating enough fruits and vegetables.  Health appointments took me out of school and I plan to go to college!  I had to beg my parents for money they didn’t have.  I had to explain to my class that I didn’t want to go on the stupid field trip when really it was that we couldn’t afford it.  I knew it was harder on my two brothers to tell their friends they couldn’t go than it was for me.  It felt like my father wasn’t doing enough to try to get a job.  One day after school, I got a letter saying our gas was being cut off.  Another day I got an evictions notice!  While Mom did pay the mortgage, she was late and we got evicted anyways!  We didn’t have enough food in general; thankfully the school had a breakfast program which my brothers and I ate at.  And to top it all off, there was no family time.  My parents were both stressed to the max.  When we came home from school and handed them a note from the teachers (for field trips, for fighting etc.) they would sigh and throw the paper aside.  Every time my brothers or I had to go somewhere, Dad lost out on paying bills or looking for work.  In fact, in the entire month, Dad did not make it to the Employment Centre to look for work.  Whenever we saw Mom, she was muttering and doing math in her head.  You could see the stress on her face every time we needed money.

So, what challenges did my family face in our month in poverty?  Lack of affordable childcare.  Teen pregnancy.  The Health care system.  Lack of food.  Parental stress. Eviction. Transportation. Navigating the system. Lack of time for anything but necessities.  One paycheck way below the minimum standard of living.  School.

What feelings did my family experience? Stress.  Isolation. Annoyance.  Lost.  Exploited. Humility. Panic. Vulnerability.  Overwhelmed.  Anger.

What impacted the family the most?  Mom was at work for most of the week, and by the time she was able to get to any agency/bank/supermarket they were closing for the day.  There were long lines at all agencies, causing us to waste whole days waiting for services.  The agencies were understaffed, and were frustrated by the long lines and their inability to help.  Everyone was cranky.  We felt like we were treated unfairly, often feeling demeaned and undervalued as a person.  In desperation, Dad tried selling drugs!

Desperation led many to stealing or a life of crime.  We felt like the world was against us and that there was no correct information available for the family.  With mom working, she was never able to get to an agency which put the pressure on Dad – but Dad also had to take us to the health clinic and try to find a job!  There was a sense of complete chaos within each family unit.  We were all overwhelmed by the things going on in our lives and the amount that we had to do.  There was so much stress within the family unit and it transferred to everyone we dealt with.  We felt that the situation was relentless and a sense of hopelessness came over us.  How long could we go like this? How long can we keep it up?  Were my brothers and I going to be put into care because our parents couldn’t feed us, because we were evicted?  We were in survival mode and didn’t care who we hurt or what ends we had to reach.

The agency staff said that they started out trying to get to know everyone that came through but with the long lines, people quickly became faceless.  We talked about agencies being important people in the lives of many of their clients who do not have a support system outside of the agencies.

The biggest things the group talked about were that the agencies were not as accessible as we needed them to be.  Transportation is always a problem.  There are untapped resources within the community – in the simulation some of the agencies that could have helped certain families said those families never made it to see them.  Were the families unaware, was there just no time?  The agencies said they felt like they asked degrading questions only to have to turn the clients away. 

As the event wrapped up, I heard some people talking.  “Maybe we can be less stingy with bus tickets” I heard.  What a great way to get people talking, and to get people involved in a horrendous situation which is all too prevalent in today’s society.  People need to know that stereotypes are wrong (almost always) and that people struggle and do the best they can.  Maybe some give up, but most are working their asses off for something we will hopefully never have to experience.  What a great way to spend my afternoon, learning about something that I think I know but have never experienced!