By Hannah Baillie (General member, The Young Canadians Roundtable on Health)
October 3 – 9 is Mental Health Week in Canada, a time to reflect on the aspects of our wellbeing that aren’t tangible or physical, but are nonetheless an important part of our health and wellness. Even with initiatives like Mental Health Week, Bell Let’s Talk Day, and individual days of recognition, mental health is still a heavily stigmatized topic in Canadian society.
While these days and weeks of recognition do an excellent job of raising awareness and educating the public about mental health, we need to keep the conversation going to truly work towards de-stigmatizing mental illnesses. But how do we do that? How do we keep the conversation going? It can be pretty simple – we can share our stories. In the spirit of practicing what I preach, I will start by sharing my own.
I was diagnosed with an eating disorder when I was 16 years old. At the time, I didn’t understand what was happening inside my mind and body. From the outside, I was what most people would call “the picture of health,” I played a variety of sports, enjoyed spending time with friends, and did well in school. Things were going well for me, or so it seemed. What many people, including myself, didn’t realize is that I was falling into dangerous patterns of coping that were impacting my mental and physical health.
Eating disorders are one of the most common and deadliest mental illnesses an individual can suffer from. In fact, the mortality rate associated with Anorexia Nervosa is 12 times greater than that of all other causes of death combined for girls and women aged 15 to 24. In Canada, it is estimated that one million people are currently struggling with an eating disorder. Unsurprisingly, this demand for eating disorders support and services has spiked since the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic – up to 400% in some areas.
As is often the case in eating disorder recovery, I went through various ups and downs along the way to regaining my health. Admittedly, the COVID-19 pandemic was tough. While I had been in a stable position for many years leading up to this point, the lack of certainty, control, and sheer isolation of the pandemic caused me to fall back into old habits that deteriorated my health quickly.
There is no “one size fits all” in any area of life, least of all in eating disorders. Individuals with all body types, from any socioeconomic background, and of any gender or sexual orientation can experience an eating disorder. Eating disorders don’t discriminate. Unfortunately, our health systems and diagnostic criteria are just catching on to this fact. Where eating disorders were once seen as a “thin, white woman’s disease,” they are now being recognized as a biological, brain-based illness that can impact anyone, at any time.
I consider myself very fortunate to have received timely access to treatment and care in my home province, but this experience also opened my eyes to the state of the healthcare system in my region (and others) that left me feeling deeply uncomfortable. For instance, let’s start with the numbers. In Atlantic Canada, there are approximately 1,917,316 people. Yet there are only three inpatient beds dedicated to treating eating disorders. Just three beds. As our health systems struggle to keep up with demand for services, many people are left waiting. And when it comes to eating disorders, waiting can be deadly.
My time as a patient in the healthcare system showed me that treatment can be life-changing. People canrecover from eating disorders, despite many people referring to them as a “chronic illness”. I am now recovered, working towards my education, and taking on new roles with organizations like the YCRH that aim to improve healthcare services for youth in Canada. But I also wish that I didn’t have to consider myself “lucky” to have reached this point. I wish that timely access to care was the standard in this country and not an anomaly. I wish that individuals with eating disorders didn’t have to leave their province, their friends, or their families to get life-saving treatment. Most strongly, I wish that Nova Scotia could have a residential treatment centre for people with eating disorders. These are lofty wishes with no “quick fix,” but as we talk more about mental health, and in particular about eating disorders, we move closer to making them a reality.
I would be remiss if I didn’t recognize the role that community-based organizations like Eating Disorders Nova Scotia, and their sister organizations around the country, play in promoting recovery and advocating for mental health in Canada. As the demand for mental health services continues to rise, these organizations have stepped up to the challenge by offering new services, supports, and programs so that no one has to face their mental illness alone. Eating Disorders Nova Scotia’s professional services, peer support networks, and virtual workshops, bridge the gap between reaching out for help and accessing treatment.
So, as we take the time to reflect on our own journeys with mental health and wellness this week, let’s think about what we’re doing well, but also what we’d like to improve. Every day – not just those dedicated to national awareness and recognition – is an opportunity to build a future that is less stigmatized and more supportive of those with mental illnesses. Start by sharing your story, donating to your local non-profit mental health organizations, or reaching out to a friend who might be struggling. I’ve learned over the past few years that these actions do not go unnoticed. They make a difference for us, personally, as well as for others. Together, we can make mental health in Canada a less stigmatized experience.
Hannah Baillie is Public Relations student at Mount Saint Vincent University in Halifax, Nova Scotia. A natural writer, Hannah uses storytelling to advocate for a wide variety of healthcare topics. She is looking hopes to use her personal and professional experience in the healthcare system to advocate for improved mental health policies, services, and initiatives.
