At the end of 2020, I was aged out of the youth mental health system. For five years, I had received free bi-weekly counselling and bi-annual psychiatrist visits, in which I was assisted with four mental health disorders, including Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Panic Disorder, Major Depressive Disorder, and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, in addition to disordered eating habits and OCD tendencies.
As you may have guessed, this was not an elegant or mutually agreed upon transition. In fact, I found it to be incredibly traumatic and I wasn’t alone. Several other Canadian youth have also repeatedly expressed confusion in their transition of care and a desire for increased age flexibility.
This happened to coincide with the second wave of COVID-19 in British Columbia, which found 50 per cent of Canadians reporting worsened mental health and 10 per cent reporting significant emotional decreases. Lucky me.
Trusted relationships with mental health professionals were suddenly tossed aside. I did not receive information about where to find new mental health support.
While social media campaigns and government websites regularly boast about Canadian mental health funding, I fail to see such services. Our system is built on a reactive model that waits until we are on the brink of death to offer substantial, tangible assistance.
Since being dropped from the system, I have attempted to find new support, but every Google search leaves me increasingly emotionally exhausted. Even when I did speak with a doctor about referring me to a Mood Disorder clinic, I was told I would need a new diagnosis of depression to be referred to a clinic that could, again, diagnose me. In another instance, I messaged a crisis line for students, only to be told there would be a three- to five-hour wait for immediate support.
“The mental health system is like a ping-pong machine, where you are bounced around from one place to another,” a friend once said to me, and it rings true.
Last resort services are necessary, don’t get me wrong. But when a person with severe mental illness is expected to advocate for themselves in a vague, exclusive, and reactive system, we have already failed.
The Canadian Medical Association and Canadian Psychiatric Association estimates that while 20 per cent of Canadians suffer from a mental disorder, only one in three will pursue treatment. The chief reason? MSP does not cover psychological expenses, and the most family doctors can (or will) do is pass on yet another list of “resources,” many of which will cost $80-250 an hour to access.
The result becomes an endless cycle of acute care where those with mental illness go without therapy, require hospitalization, are released, and then repeat. Unlike hospitalizations for physical ailments, patients discharged from psychiatric wards only receive a three-month follow-up appointment 33 per cent of the time. For reference, heart attack patients are statistically 100 per cent.
We often bring about economic expenditure as a reason for not offering more accessible mental health services. However, reactive approaches cost far more than proactive services.
In 2017-2018, the average cost per stay in psychiatric units was $5,850 (13 days), and the average psychiatric hospital stay was $27,738 (67 days). A study in psychosis intervention found that the cost of treating a person experiencing psychosis was a mere $6,300 a year—which is a 2,800 per cent increase in support for $450 more dollars in comparison to a psychiatric ward stay.
Another example named the Risk Analytica Study projects that if we can reduce mental health incidences by 10 per cent per year, we would save an annual $4 billion on direct costs after 10 years. In 30 years, this number would increase to $22.4 billion per year, rising by another $5.3 billion by reducing remission rates by 10 per cent.
This research illustrates that it is possible to please both sides of the equation: those that desire increased preventative mental health support and those that wish to decrease taxpayer spending. In fact, these two goals go hand-in-hand.
In terms of social inclusion, mental illness comprises 30 per cent of short and long-term disability claims—making it one of the top three reasons for disability claims in 80 per cent of Canadian employers. While many of these individuals will eventually return to work, the long-term effects of social exclusion periods are vast.
We know through personal accounts, systemic analysis, and economic studies that mental health deserves to be an everyday priority. Not only can we reduce fiscal spending, but we can foster a population that does not have to hit rock bottom to be considered worthy of support.
“Anything that’s human is mentionable, and anything that is mentionable can be more manageable. When we can talk about our feelings, they become less overwhelming, less upsetting, and less scary,” Fred Rogers, American TV Host, once said.
