Change Can Bring Hope

Better language, and a more human approach; change in the form of dignity

by Marco

Right now, the most important thing in my life is being able to provide for my family. I have a young toddler, and finances are not always the easiest thing to manage. So anything I can do to support my partner and my daughter feels huge. That is honestly why I agreed to do this research. The gift card definitely mattered, but also because I have had a lot of experience in Halton, both accessing services and providing services. I have been on both sides of it, so I know a lot about how things work here.

What gives me hope for the future, in general, is change. I find that when things stay the same for too long, it can feel like everything is stuck. But when something shifts, whether that is leadership or direction, it feels like things could be different. When Mark Carney came into office, for example, it brought this feeling of freshness, like there were new possibilities. Even the end of one year and the start of another can bring that feeling. It is like a reset, something new coming.

On the service side, hope can come from simply knowing what is available. When I did not know what was around me or what I could access, everything felt more dim. But now that I provide services myself, I see how powerful knowledge can be. When someone is struggling and they have no idea what supports exist, it can make their situation feel hopeless. But when I am able to say, “Hey, there is a program here that can help you with this,” or “You can get a low-cost phone plan through this service,” you can see the hope come back. That is why having clear information, low-barrier access, and proper implementation matters so much.

In my work, I focus on supporting peer-led approaches in the mental health and substance use space. Over the years, I have held roles that involved working directly with people and roles that focused more on system-level support. I have trained individuals to become peer support workers, developed learning materials, and supported communities of practice. My work is meaningful to me because of my own lived experience with mental health and substance use challenges, including opiate addiction years ago. I know what it feels like to need support and not know where to find it, and that experience guides the way I show up for others.

When I think about what makes me feel supported and connected in the community, low-barrier access is at the top of the list. Back when I needed help for addiction, the services just were not there in Halton. Adapt was here, but if I needed withdrawal management or detox, I had to go to Toronto or Hamilton. For a lot of people, transportation is a huge barrier. So even if the service exists, it does not mean it is actually accessible. And honestly, when people in a community do not want certain services near them, that can feel isolating. I get it, people have families and want safety. But when folks say they do not want shelters or detox centres near them, and you are someone who needs those services, it can feel like people do not want someone like you around. Even though you are just as much a part of the community as anyone else.

This past year has been wild for me, so I have not thought too consciously about community connection. But becoming a parent changed how I see what is available. The EarlyON centres, free swim times, free child programs, all of that has been huge. My partner takes our daughter to EarlyON all the time. There are so many free programs in Oakville and other regions, too. You do not realize how many free things exist until you actually need them. And a lot of people do not know these things are available at all.

The positive things I want to see more of are exactly those free and low-barrier services. Transportation needs more support. The homelessness crisis needs more support. The opioid and overdose crisis needs more support. Health services matter, but community events matter too. I like things that bring people together. Stuff like Santa Claus parades or outdoor festivals. But when there is a fee to walk through a park for an event that would normally be open, it just makes it less accessible. Free events make people feel welcome. They make it easier to actually participate in your own community.

When it comes to the opioid crisis, I think harm reduction is essential. Education about harm reduction is essential. People need to understand what it really means, because a lot of people still do not get it. I train service providers, and I see the gaps in understanding all the time. Compassionate language matters. Putting people first matters. The way we talk about people affects how they see themselves. Stigma creates shame, and shame makes everything worse. If we want people to heal, we have to start by changing the way we speak and act.

I also think it is important to give people choices. So much harm was done in the past when people had no control over their care. Involuntary hospitalizations, involuntary medications, decisions made for people without their voice. Peer support came from survivors who fought against that. So, giving people the option to choose abstinence or harm reduction, choose their goals, choose their path, that is what supports recovery.

If we had reduced barriers, better language, and a more human approach, I think the biggest change we would see is dignity. People would feel respected. They would feel socially included. And when someone feels included, they make better choices. They have confidence. They can see their own path more clearly. It opens the door to self-determination. It changes everything.

If I could ask decision makers for one thing, it would be to value the people doing the work. Frontline staff are often the last to be considered. Services focus on service users first, then the organization, and the staff who provide the actual support get left behind. We are underpaid across the sector, even though the work is hard and the skills required are high. Burnout and compassion fatigue are everywhere. Nonprofits get funding, but they cannot use it for wages, only for equipment or specific restricted purposes. It is frustrating to see how limited the systems are when the need is so high. Everyone deserves free and low-barrier services, but the workers providing those services deserve stability too. Respecting that work, including financially, is essential.

I know change will take time, but I believe in it. I have lived on both sides of the system. I have accessed services, and I have provided them. I know what is possible when people feel respected, supported, and included. A community with low-barrier access, compassionate language, real understanding, and proper support for workers is a community where people can actually thrive.

That is the kind of Halton I hope we can build.

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Curated by Gala Vukmanovic

This story was shared as part of Thriving Together in Community Project.

The purpose of this project is to gather community voices and ideas to help inform local organizations, service providers, and decision-makers. Stories focus on people’s hopes, strengths and visions for the future, as well as the challenges faced by people that are deeply impacted by the affordability crisis in Halton.