Basma Elbahnasawy | Multimedia Editor

Featured image | Rowan Campbell

Imagine being in the driver’s seat, when in the blink of an eye, you find yourself unconscious. Eventually, as you try to figure out your surroundings through the smashed windows and inflated airbags, you come to realize that another vehicle forcefully collided with your car. You are left to gasp for every breath and attempt to regain consciousness while your head remains resting on the steering wheel.

This is how it feels to go through a mental trauma in life. You think you are in control of the steering wheel, thinking you have your life under control, until you realize that the car—your life—is not always solely controlled by the driver. You are shocked, hurt, and simply unable to function mentally. You feel it is obvious that you are suffering, that you are fighting to survive—but no one around you seems to notice.

You notice that there are repetitive mental health awareness advertisements, encouraging you to get help. “Don’t stay silent!” “Let’s Talk!” they repeat. You are finally convinced and grab the phone to dial a nearby mental health professional.

The phone rings and just when you are about to hang up, someone answers. You realize that they are willing to help, but they just throw you on the waiting list, the duration of which could take a month or more. You realize that you are nothing more than a number on a file. Hesitant to ask for the price of a session, you convince yourself it is important. “$150 an hour,” they respond casually.

You realize that, as a university student who balances two part-time jobs and five courses, soon you will have to ask yourself: “Can I afford spending $150 an hour every week?” It is almost a week’s salary for a part-time worker on minimum wage.

It is at this point that you start to realize that the advertisements are all a show, without much national action behind them.

Sometimes, you don’t want to talk to an unknown volunteer on the other end of the line—sometimes, you want to have a transparent conversation with someone who can look you in the eye and help shape your life.

It is even more difficult to come to realize that children have to go through this equivalent experience. “There is a risk that the mental health of children and youth can deteriorate while waiting for service, but little is done to monitor wait time trends and their impact.” This is a comment made by the Auditor General in a 2016 report, regarding the way the Ontario Ministry of Children and Youth Services responds to the issue.

We get it—mental health awareness is important, but we need to move on from the advertising and actually realize that Canadians are put on a waiting list over, and over, and over again. Instead of using our resources to produce awareness campaigns, we should be creating a provincial plan to ensure the mental well-being of the citizens of Ontario.

Canadians understand the importance of mental health care, but it seems that perhaps some of our government officials need to get on the same page.