Veronika: A journey from fear and anger to empathy and kindness

Empathy is essential for positive mental health because it allows us to develop stronger relationships with others and cultivate a sense of compassion and understanding.

Empathy helps us to put ourselves in someone else’s shoes and experience their feelings, thoughts or attitudes. But it’s not just about understanding someone else’s perspective, it’s also about understanding our own feelings, leading to increased self-awareness and a greater sense of well-being.

Exploring empathy does not undo or make right what someone has done, but when we are intentional about having empathy, we can choose to show compassion over judgment. In a world so deeply divided, we need to be able to listen to each other and connect.

Here’s how Veronika’s experience with empathy has improved her mental well-being.

Holly: How one teacher’s compassion helped me break free from a bully

Altruism is essential for mental well-being because it encourages us to put others first. Altruism helps us to build meaningful relationships and become part of something greater than ourselves.

People are at their best when they don’t just worry about themselves, but see themselves as a part of the greater good. In doing so, we begin to act as if our actions make a difference … because they do.

By being kind to ourselves and others, we can reduce stress, alleviate loneliness, and increase our feelings of optimism. Our actions can have a ripple effect, and our choices to be kind can have far-reaching impacts, beyond what we can even imagine.

Here’s how Holly’s experience with altruism has improved her mental well-being.

Holly Mace

Ever since I was a little girl, I always wanted to help people. I wanted to help people so much that sometimes, I would even put myself at risk.

I remember when I was in the third grade and I was trying to help a friend get her lunch bag from her locker. It was on the top shelf, pushed far to the back, and neither of us could reach it.

We had always been told not to climb on the lockers, but my friend’s lunch was at stake here! I figured there would be no harm in scaling a few shelves if it meant helping a friend, right?

So I jumped up to grab her bag, hanging onto the top shelf for dear life. But while I was dangling there trying to reach it, I suddenly lost my grip.

I came tumbling down from the locker and fell right on top of my wrist. It was contorted in a way a wrist should never be contorted, and to this day my wrist is still not right.

For me, when I see a friend in need, it’s like I have these blinders on. I didn’t always have a ton of friends growing up, so when the opportunity presented itself, I wanted to make sure my friends knew that I would do anything to help them.

Learning when to put myself first

When I was in eighth grade, I became best friends with this girl. We started eating lunch together, she introduced me to her friends, and eventually, I became a part of her group.

She confided in me about everything. She had a lot of struggles and I really wanted to be there for her. But I didn’t have the tools to deal with what she was going through at the time.

Eventually, this friendship became really unhealthy. She would call me names, push and hit me, and make me feel like everything bad that happened was my fault.

The dysfunction in this friendship started to affect me. My grades started to slip. I did terribly in math because she would sit behind me throwing highlighters at my head and would even tear up my homework. I was mentally and physically drained and my self-esteem was at an all-time low.

My math teacher, Mr. Auger, noticed how this friend would treat me and often stood up for me in class. A lot of students would eat our lunch in his classroom, but one day as I was about to go in, I remember him standing in the doorway and telling me, “No, you can’t come in here.”

I was so confused! This is where I ate lunch every day and Mr. Auger and I had a really great relationship. I thought I had done something wrong.

But instead, he said, “I’m not going to let you eat in here today, because she is in here. You’re going to go eat with your friends who actually treat you like a friend, you’re going to have a nice lunch and then you’re going to come back and we’re going to do math.”

At first, I thought this was super weird, but was later so grateful for what he had done. I didn’t realize how much I needed that one person to say, “You can’t take this abuse anymore; you have to move on.” That day was an amazing gift because that was the day I told myself I wasn’t going to let this bully take any more from me.

How altruism changed my life

I started ignoring this friend when they bullied me in class, and would instead hang out with the friends I had made on a school trip to New York. And eventually, I stopped being friends with her altogether.

I told her how much I respected everything she was going through, and that I understood the pain she was in, but that I couldn’t be that person carrying that weight for her. I did really want to help her and was sorry that I couldn’t.

Leaving that friendship behind made a world of difference! I felt like I finally had a handle on my life again. I started feeling better about myself, I made better friends, and I was able to focus in class—I got a 48% in math when dealing with this bully who was masquerading as a friend, but that grade skyrocketed to a 97% once I started leaning into healthier friendships.

I’m forever grateful to Mr. Auger for seeing my struggle. For standing up for me when I didn’t know how to stand up for myself, and giving me the courage to find my own strength.

It made me realize how much power there is in a single moment because that moment changed so much for me.

Mr. Auger showed me how important it is to set boundaries, but he also showed me that sometimes all it takes is noticing someone and caring about them to help put them on a better path.

Learn more

Mental health is an ongoing journey and it is important to make sure that we all take the time to check in with ourselves, our loved ones and our mental well-being.

LiveDifferent Circles equips young people with the skills and tools needed to build positive mental health. Through conversations on authenticity, empathy, growth, resilience, altruism and values, youth develop the self-confidence to deal with the issues they’re facing and take positive action in their communities.

Want to join people like Holly and help youth across Canada build positive mental health? Become a Road Team Volunteer! Want to learn more about Circles and how it can make a difference in your community? See how LiveDifferent can help!

Hasan: Unveiling the human side of dad

Empathy is essential for positive mental health because it allows us to develop stronger relationships with others and cultivate a sense of compassion and understanding.

Empathy helps us to put ourselves in someone else’s shoes and experience their feelings, thoughts or attitudes. But it’s not just about understanding someone else’s perspective, it’s also about understanding our own feelings, leading to increased self-awareness and a greater sense of well-being.

Exploring empathy does not undo or make right what someone has done, but when we are intentional about having empathy, we can choose to show compassion over judgment. In a world so deeply divided, we need to be able to listen to each other and connect.

Here’s how Hasan’s experience with empathy has improved his mental well-being.

Hasan Shahzad

Does anyone else think that Spiderman is the best superhero? Like legit, just swinging around the city from building to building? That’s the dream.

I still love Spiderman, but as a kid I was obsessed. I remember when Spiderman 3 came out and I wanted nothing more in the world than to get that game. I had an original Xbox and my Dad and I went from store to store trying to find the game until finally one associate at the store explained that they were not releasing the game on the older consoles and I wouldn’t be able to get it.

I thought all hope was lost. That it was over, throw in the towel, doneski.

Then my dad asks, “Well what consoles work for that game?” The associate said, “The PlayStation 3 can support that game.” And my dad’s like, “All right, let’s do it. Get the PS3.” I remember on the drive home clutching my PS3 and just sobbing.

More than Spiderman, the greatest superhero I knew was my dad.

The power of a parent’s presence

I remember getting off the plane in Canada from Pakistan and seeing my dad at the airport. He left Pakistan when I was two and now, standing there at 6 years old, he was bigger than I imagined. It was like watching a slow-motion hero shot from a Marvel movie.

Everything was amazing when we first immigrated to Canada to be with my Dad. What I didn’t expect was that, over the next couple of years, my dad – who was like a hero – would slowly become more of what felt like a villain in my story.

As I began to grow up in Canada, there was always this tension in my family and it stemmed from my dad not being present. Parent-teacher interviews, basketball games—you name it, he wasn’t there.

I remember in the eighth grade he finally showed up to something; it was my provincial spelling bee final. I had won at my school level, made it through my district and was headed to provincials. It was the big time, baby! The best part was that my dad was going to be there.

I remember the feeling of approaching the microphone on stage to masterfully execute the spelling of a word like “chrysanthemum.” But I remember standing up there looking towards my parents, and there my dad is looking down at his phone. He stands up and just walks out. He was on his phone the entire time.

The Bag of buttons that changed everything

I had all this bitterness and anger and resentment towards my Dad, but that began to change because of a bag of buttons.

I remember one day my dad pulled out a small plastic bag full of pins. In the bag were pins from a gas station, McDonalds and KFC, and all the different jobs he had during his time as a new refugee working in New York and New Jersey. He began to explain how there were seasons where he would have to walk 45 minutes each day to work, just to make $6.50 an hour. He sent most of the money back to Pakistan to support my mom, sister and me.

He told me about the moment he knew he needed to leave New York. It was September 11, 2001, when he was on a train in New Jersey. The train was stopped on the track because there had been some sort of bombing in New York City. My dad sat there and watched the second plane crash into the south tower of the World Trade Center.

When people on the train started getting word that it was a terrorist attack from someone from the Middle East, he could feel everyone’s eyes turn to him. He no longer felt safe or welcome.

My dad immigrated to Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, to start over once again. He worked at a hotel, would do nights as a cab driver and eventually got into real estate and started becoming an extremely successful real estate developer.

I started reflecting back to the time when my family first arrived in Canada to finally be with my Dad. I remember walking into my sister’s and my room and on either side of the room were matching bunk beds. One was red and one was blue. The closet was full of brand-new clothes and there were so many new toys. And for every toy I had, my sis got one that countered. I got a cool Jeep and my sister got a Barbie convertible. I thought we were in heaven. I began thinking about all the things that my Dad went through to get to that point and I found a deep sense of gratitude.

The power of empathy: Reimagining my dad’s story

At the end of the day, I would have traded everything my Dad gave me just to have him be more present, so I asked my dad “ Why weren’t you there for me? Why couldn’t you just be there for me when I really needed you?” And I remember he replied, “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you in your basketball games. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you in these little moments. I had a job to do. And I did the best job I could to give you guys everything I didn’t.”

When I took a second to imagine life from his perspective and imagine myself escaping persecution and fleeing to the U.S. to make a life for our family, landing in New York, facing discrimination and starting over again in Canada; when I think about all those things, I think I might have done the exact same thing … I might have been the exact same way.

When I reflect on my Dad’s life, I think about all the sacrifices he made so that my life could be easier than his. In my mind, I had always made out my Dad to be a hero or a villain in my story, and what I have learned through empathy is understanding that my dad is just human.
So now I’ve chosen not to write a story of bitterness and anger from my past, and have chosen not to see my Dad as a hero or a villain.

Instead, I’ve chosen to see him as the man with a bag of pins that made a future for our family.

Learn more

Mental health is an ongoing journey and it is important to make sure that we all take the time to check in with ourselves, our loved ones and our mental well-being.

LiveDifferent Circles equips young people with the skills and tools needed to build positive mental health. Through conversations on authenticity, empathy, growth, resilience, altruism and values, youth develop the self-confidence to deal with the issues they’re facing and take positive action in their communities.

Want to join people like Hasan and help youth across Canada build positive mental health? Become a Road Team Volunteer! Want to learn more about Circles and how it can make a difference in your community? See how LiveDifferent can help!

Ice Road Tour: Supporting youth in Northern Manitoba

It’s a crisis that’s hidden in plain sight, but one that’s decimating youth in many remote communities in Northern Canada.

Mental health access in these areas is severely lacking, but through our six-week Ice Road Tour, LiveDifferent is able to bring hope, healing and purpose to the Indigenous youth living in these isolated communities through our Circles in-school program.

What’s an Ice Road?

Ice roads are built throughout Canada’s far north every winter to connect remote communities.

Depending on the weather, these temporary “ice highways” are typically accessible for 6 to 8 weeks each year. They are vital for the transport of essential supplies such as fuel, building materials and food staples that remote communities need for the entire year.

During the rest of the year, these communities are cut off by water and wilderness and are reachable only by barge or plane, which means these ice roads provide an invaluable lifeline for residents.

Mental health in Northern communities

Remote communities in Northern Canada are facing an increasingly urgent crisis, with individuals often having to travel long distances to receive help. Where services do exist, they are often overstretched, with high turnover rates, long wait times and inadequate infrastructure.

Indigenous youth living in these remote communities face unique mental health challenges due to intergenerational trauma and oppression, leading to higher rates of suicide and substance use. These communities also struggle with poverty, inadequate housing and lack of employment, which further exacerbate mental health issues.

Without access to proper care and support, youth in these communities are left to suffer in silence. In response, community leaders are often forced to call states of emergency in order to raise awareness about the immediate need for more access to life-saving initiatives and services, that are often only available through federal and provincial governments.

But solutions are often temporary.

LiveDifferent’s Ice Road Tour

LiveDifferent has been supporting youth in many northern and remote Indigenous communities via our Circles mental wellness program since 2017. This program is delivered by a specially trained team–typically consisting of a balance between young Indigenous and non-Indigenous leaders–equipped with additional programming over two days per community.

This year, Tristen Schneider is one of those leaders.

Originally from Shawanaga First Nation, Tristen began as a Road Team Leader with LiveDifferent in 2022. She and her team were on a six-week Ice Road Tour in February to bring messages of hope and change to students in Grades six through twelve living in remote communities in Northern Manitoba.

Tristen and her team have been confronted with the difficulties and hardships these communities face due to their remoteness. She has also seen the extreme suicide crisis that has taken many lives, some as young as six years old.

“Because they have limited access to resources and support … for some youth, there’s really not a lot of choice and so suicide has now become the answer,” she says.

“The thing about being in the North here is that these youth, they’re so comfortable with death. It’s very normalized here and it almost has a numbing feeling. Whereas, you know, even the consideration of living life is more scary than [death].”

Tristen wants to use her influence to give students a sense of hope and belonging. She wants to show them that they are not victims, but heroes of their own stories.

“What we want to try to create is to have meaningful conversations with these students to hopefully shed some hope, some meaning and give them a sense of belonging,” she says. “It’s really important to us that, as we navigate each community, we have to be very adaptable and approachable, openly engaging with these students. We’re not here to force an agenda but to hear and understand from them as well. Reciprocal learning and healing.”

She has witnessed the hardships that students have endured due to a lack of connection and communication. Particularly since the implementation of COVID restrictions and school closures, many of these young people have become more withdrawn, and have found it difficult to engage in social activities. She has heard many stories from students about the difficulties of dealing with addiction, trauma from childhood, and the turbulence of their relationships with their parents and wider community.

“Some of these schools that we’re going to just had a recent suicide crisis, where there are multiple suicide attempts for students, or as in other cases, there are other deaths that are going on within communities. So each community is unique and different,” she says.

Tristen is dedicated to providing these students with the resources and support they need to realize their dreams and reach their full potential. She passionately believes that every person has the right to experience the joys of life and is determined to show these young people that there is a whole world out there waiting to be explored.

How can you help?

LiveDifferent is committed to empowering and encouraging people to live lives that care for themselves and for others. We are making a difference to those who have been forgotten and neglected and we are giving them the chance to realize their hopes and dreams.
By working together, we can make a profound difference.

Take action and help us spread awareness by donating to our Canadian Youth Fund today. By donating, you can help LiveDifferent reach as many students as possible with our Circles program, helping them to create a better future for themselves.

Together, we can make a difference and ensure no one is ever left behind.

Hear more from Tristen about the Ice Road Tours.

Tristen: Finding strength in a bundle of love

Resilience is the foundation for positive mental health and well-being. It allows us to confront difficult experiences and challenges in a more meaningful and productive way, enabling us to learn, grow, and become stronger from them.

Research shows that it’s not just what we go through that affects us, but it’s also the story that we tell ourselves. And if we stop and make meaning of life’s most difficult moments, they can actually help us develop a sense of purpose, take appropriate risks and create positive relationships with others.

Everything in life, both good and bad, can teach us something if we’re willing to learn from it. With resilience, we can turn obstacles into advantages and use them to create a life of greater meaning.

Here’s how Tristen’s experience with resilience has improved her mental well-being.

Tristen Schneider

When you travel across Canada as we do for months at a time, lugging and unpacking your belongings at a new location every day, you get very particular about what you bring with you.

These are the essentials:

• Jumbo-size pack of deodorant (because you know it gets stanky living out of a truck!)
• Fast food coupons (it’s like $20 for a burger nowadays, so gotta have these).
• Stuffed animal – maybe a weird one, but I tried to fit my 20-year-old cat Cutie in my backpack, but she was all hiss and claws when I tried to stuff her in, so I took this instead.

More important than my backpack, though, is what I like to call my bundle. My bundle is the people and the lessons that I carry with me as I go through life.

My grandma Marnie, my Koko, is one of those people.

The life and legacy of my Koko

Growing up, every Sunday night was a family dinner at my KoKo’s house and she would always make my favourite: hangover soup. This consisted of macaroni, tomatoes and hamburger, and was always served with a scone on the side.

Now the reason it was called hangover soup is because on the weekends, my parents would drink all weekend and would head over to my grandparents on Sunday for their delicious medley of hangover remedies.

But at the end of the night, I was always scared to leave because this partying at home was too much.

I still remember laying in bed when I was six years old. My parents were drinking and screaming at each other so loudly. I reached over, snuck the phone under the covers and dialled 911. I was terrified someone was going to get hurt.

I always wanted to stay with my Koko, because that’s where I felt safe. In the Anishnaabe Clan System, my Koko was a part of the Bear clan, which represents healing and protection. Every Easter, you would her find her dressed up as the Easter bunny going door to door and handing out Easter baskets. She was the connector in the community; she brought healing and love with her everywhere she went.

But when I was 8 years old, I remember walking into my Koko’s house and seeing boxes and boxes of dialysis equipment laying around. Her diabetes had quickly taken a turn for the worse, and she was fighting for her life.

The next morning, they called us to come and say goodbye. She had passed away in the middle of the night.

Saying goodbye

I remember walking into her room and seeing her lying there. I had just lost the most important person in my life, but I refused to cry because I thought it was something that you don’t do in front of people. I just held it all in.

My Koko was the glue that held our family together and soon the family dinners stopped. Eventually, everyone drifted in their own direction and for many that direction was addiction. It was a very difficult path for me as well without her, and I struggled greatly with depression and anxiety throughout high school.

I remember hitting a low point, when the hurt felt like too much. But I had a dream that night about my Koko, and she said to me, “If you ever need me, come to my favourite spot.” There was this place at the waterfront in our community that she loved so much that they named Marnie’s Hill. So I cancelled my shift at work, got in my car and drove all the way from Toronto to be there.

Driving there, I felt a little foolish; I was going to all this trouble just because of some dream. But when I went and stood down by the water, this snapping turtle swam to the edge of the water. It popped its head up and just stared at me. Then I watched as an eagle came down and soared over the surface of the water. In that moment, I felt a sense of home. I knew I wasn’t alone, that my Koko and everything she taught me about love and community was still with me as a part of my bundle.

I had no idea how much I was going to need that lesson.

Adding to my bundle

Things had begun to change and improve in my life. I was engaged to the love of my life, Sebastian. We were getting married that October, and I was excited about my first week in my new job as a road team leader for LiveDifferent.

I had just flown out to Winnipeg to drive our team’s truck back to Ontario. I was driving the truck when I saw a call from my friend in Toronto. I pull over to answer the call: my friend told me that my fiancé, Sebastian, had died suddenly from a heart attack. He was 26 years old.

The night that Sebastian passed away, I had another dream; this time about a mother black bear watching over her cub. I didn’t understand what it meant, but what I did know was everything that I thought my life was going to be, all my hopes and expectations, were shattered in an instant.

This time, I knew I couldn’t keep it inside. I had to let myself grieve.

I flew back to my community and let them support me. The future I hoped for, the life I had pictured, everything had turned upside-down. I had to let myself feel that loss and fully grieve it.

When I met with Sebsastian’s mom, she started telling me how she always called him her “little bear,” and at that moment, I knew that he and my beloved Koko were together.

I realized that the kindness and strength he had taught me were now another part of the bundle that I carry in life. It’s the idea that all the people and experiences in my life, both the good and the bad, are there for a reason. They are there to teach me something so that I might be able to give back and add to other people’s bundles.

And I hope, that even in a small way, my story might add something to your bundle.

Learn more

Mental health is an ongoing journey and it is important to make sure that we all take the time to check in with ourselves, our loved ones and our mental well-being.

LiveDifferent Circles equips young people with the skills and tools needed to build positive mental health. Through conversations on authenticity, empathy, growth, resilience, altruism and values, youth develop the self-confidence to deal with the issues they’re facing and take positive action in their communities.

Want to join people like Tristen and help youth across Canada build positive mental health? Become a Road Team Volunteer! Want to learn more about Circles and how it can make a difference in your community? See how LiveDifferent can help!

Kyle: Turning my life around after a DUI

Empathy is essential for positive mental health because it allows us to develop stronger relationships with others and cultivate a sense of compassion and understanding.

Empathy helps us to put ourselves in someone else’s shoes and experience their feelings, thoughts or attitudes. But it’s not just about understanding someone else’s perspective, it’s also about understanding our own feelings, leading to increased self-awareness and a greater sense of well-being.

Exploring empathy does not undo or make right what someone has done, but when we are intentional about having empathy, we can choose to show compassion over judgment. In a world so deeply divided, we need to be able to listen to each other and connect.

Here’s how Kyle’s experience with empathy has improved his mental well-being.

Kyle Cheesman

Have you ever royally messed up? Like you wake up in the morning and you think, “Thank God it was just a dream!” until you realize it wasn’t.

I remember sitting in a jail cell. The worst part was I still had to call my mom and tell her where I am. I’ve never had a father around, so she was it. She was all I ever had. I didn’t want to put her through this; I didn’t want to disappoint her.

My Mom is my Hero. She literally saved my life.

My mother’s unwavering support

When I was five years old, we went to this place called Kakabeka Falls outside of Thunder Bay, Ontario. It’s a beautiful place with a beach and a waterfall. When we got to the beach, my mom stood next to me pointing out the buoys in the water that marked out the boundaries and explaining the dangers of the undertow that can pull you into the water.

As I stepped into the water, I remember feeling the mushy sand in-between my toes and the cold wave rippling under my arms as I began to jump up and down in the waist-high water. My mom told me not to jump too far, but I was in my own world.

I was jumping along, shuffling forward with each jump when all of a sudden, the ocean’s floor was no longer beneath me. I quickly caught one last breath before I went under and immediately began to panic. I started swallowing water almost instantly as I tried to frantically reach up for air.

Eventually, a sense of calm came over me as I stared up at the surface of the water looking at the way the sun rippled on top of the water. My vision began to close in and I could feel my heart slowing to a stop.

Then in what felt like a blink, I woke up on the beach in my mother’s arms, wrenching and coughing all the water left in my lungs. My vision slowly coming back and my hearing becoming clearer as Mom patted my back and reassured me, “It’s going to be OK, it’s going to be OK.”

This whole event took place in under a minute or 2, and she would never see herself as a hero in this story, but I do.

I never doubted if my mom was going to be there for me when I needed her the most.

There was this one point in time shortly after high school when I was working in a mine and going to the gym a lot. I started to notice my left ankle was hurting. Months go by and I ignored it until I couldn’t anymore. The next thing I know, my back began seizing up at random times, and when I went to get the doctor’s opinion, they kept telling me that I was young and to make sure I was stretching often. That it should fix itself. Instead, it just kept getting worse.

I remember the feeling of collapsing on the stairs and tumbling to the bottom, unable to stand, reaching up to the railing trying to pull myself up but failing over and over. It turns out I had a collapsed disk in my lower back and it was resting on a nerve.

At my lowest point, I was pretty much bedridden; I couldn’t even get myself up in the morning. My mom would go to work at 7 a.m. and come back home at 8:30 a.m. so she could help me out of bed and get me started on my day. My mom was cooking for me, cleaning for me, taking me to doctor’s appointments, and advocating for me to get the help I needed. I felt like I was a small child again unable to care for myself. It was my mom who carried me through that entire season right up until I got the back surgery. Throughout that entire time, I always knew that the pain I felt wasn’t just mine, but hers too.

How kindness and empathy changed my life

This is why it killed me when I had to pick up the phone that morning at the police station. After fingerprints, mugshots and standing in a cold cell for over 7 hours, I finally called her to tell her that I got a DUI and that she needed to find a way to work because her SUV was impounded.

I was broken, ashamed and angry.

I wanted to blame drinking and driving on friends and on peer-pressure, but I knew I was the only one to blame. At that moment, sitting there on the phone, I hated myself and I projected all that self-hatred onto my mom and said things I didn’t mean and I wish I could take back.

I felt as though I was now a criminal, and for the rest of my life, that’s all anyone would be able to see.

I remember the first real conversation my mom and I had after I was released from the holding cell. She gave me space to apologize, to talk through my fears and the pain of my failure. We stood there in the kitchen and she just hugged me while I cried.

My mom never saw me as a criminal. She saw me just as I was: A kid who really messed up and just needed a hug. She showed me what real kindness and empathy looked like.

She told me, “I know growing up without a dad has been hard, but it’s time for you to step up and take control of your own life.” And that’s exactly what I have been able to do.

Now it’s my turn to be the one who extends a hand to someone who is hurting or gives a hug to someone who feels broken, just like my mom did for me.

A couple of weeks after the DUI, I got a book for Christmas called How to get out of your own way by Tyrese Gibson. This book changed my life. At one point in the book the author says, “I have learned to surround myself with people who are the things I want to become, at some point I will become them.”

You need to surround yourself with kindness and empathy to become kind and empathetic. And for me, that started with my mom.

Learn more

Mental health is an ongoing journey and it is important to make sure that we all take the time to check in with ourselves, our loved ones and our mental well-being.

LiveDifferent Circles equips young people with the skills and tools needed to build positive mental health. Through conversations on authenticity, empathy, growth, resilience, altruism and values, youth develop the self-confidence to deal with the issues they’re facing and take positive action in their communities.

Want to join people like Kyle and help youth across Canada build positive mental health? Become a Road Team Volunteer! Want to learn more about Circles and how it can make a difference in your community? See how LiveDifferent can help!

Shae-Lynn: Finding empathy for an absent father

Empathy is essential for positive mental health because it allows us to develop stronger relationships with others and cultivate a sense of compassion and understanding.

Empathy helps us to put ourselves in someone else’s shoes and experience their feelings, thoughts or attitudes. But it’s not just about understanding someone else’s perspective, it’s also about understanding our own feelings, leading to increased self-awareness and a greater sense of well-being.

Exploring empathy does not undo or make right what someone has done, but when we are intentional about having empathy, we can choose to show compassion over judgment. In a world so deeply divided, we need to be able to listen to each other and connect.

Here’s how Shae-Lynn’s experience with empathy has improved her mental well-being.

Shae-Lynn Davies

I love cooking. Flambes, souffles, Mr. Noodles—you name it!

About three years ago, I ran into my kindergarten teacher. Not only did she remember me, but she remembered what I wore on superhero T-shirt day All the kids at school wore Batman, Spiderman, Superman. And then there was me dressed as the cooking channel lady.

I think cooking interests me because it sometimes feels like a reflection of life. You have a specific recipe or dish in mind and your expectations are set on making that thing. You get everything ready. You set out all the pots, pans and utensils. You can almost taste it.

But, then you go and open the cupboard, and are devastated to discover that the key ingredient is missing.

I know what it’s like to feel as though you’re missing something; that you don’t have enough or feel that you are enough. Thinking back to kindergarten, I remember asking myself: “Why does everyone else keep talking about this ‘dad’ that they have? I don’t have one of those. Is that something every kid has? Where’s mine?”

Meeting my Dad’s family

My dad walked out before I was even born, and as a teenager, this really started to haunt me. “Why am I not enough? What is wrong with me?” And worse than the thoughts is the feelings they would bring; these emotions felt too big.

I became very good at pushing those feelings deep down so I wouldn’t have to feel them. But they were still there, in my body. This disconnection with my emotions got so deep, that I started to experience blackouts. I could come to and realize that I had thrown down a bookshelf, or even had to be taken to the hospital for ingesting large amounts of over-the-counter medications.

Then one day when I was 17, my mom came downstairs and said we needed to talk. She told me that my aunt had reached out. Surprise! Apparently, I have an aunt. It’s my dad’s sister and she had a daughter around my age. “They really want to get to know you,” she said.

I was very skeptical because all the things I’d been told about my dad and his family up until this point were not positive. I was also very scared. I had learned to put up walls and I did not want to let anyone in.

But I was curious as well, so I said “Ok, let’s do it,” and we set up a coffee date the next week.

Discovering the missing ingredient of empathy

When we got to the cafe, I really didn’t want to go in, but my mom convinced me. So I took a deep breath, got out of the car and walked through the door.

My aunt walked up to me, reached out and wrapped me up in a big hug. “Welcome to the family,” she said. I was speechless.

I started crying and all my aunt said was, “It’s OK, you don’t have to be alone now and this pain can end.” She explained that her mom–my grandma–had just passed away, and one of her last wishes was for me to be part of the family, even if my dad wasn’t in the picture.

The more time I spent with them, the more I learned about that side of the family. My Aunt explained that she and my dad grew up with a father that spent all their money on alcohol and drugs. One Christmas, their mom went to buy gifts only to find out the credit card was maxed out. He had used it all to feed his addictions. She couldn’t get groceries for food that Christmas, she couldn’t get gifts—she had nothing.

Hearing these stories helped give me a new way of looking at things. I began to have more empathy for my dad. I started to understand that his actions were a reflection of his own story and his own brokenness, and not a reflection of me and my worth.

For so long, there was this missing ingredient in my life because my dad wasn’t there and I filled that emptiness with so much anger and self-hatred. But after learning about my Dad’s life and his brokenness, I started to fill it with compassion and understanding, which has given me space to start to heal.

Instead of pushing difficult emotions away, I started to practice mindful awareness. I could let myself feel these emotions, but I didn’t have to stay stuck there. I could shift my thought patterns to something more positive. I began to focus less on what I was missing and to think more about how grateful I am for the amazing relationships and things that I do have in my life.

I realized that life is like making a recipe in the kitchen and the missing ingredient from our recipe is often empathy, which is something we all have the power to explore.

Learn more

Mental health is an ongoing journey and it is important to make sure that we all take the time to check in with ourselves, our loved ones and our mental well-being.

LiveDifferent Circles equips young people with the skills and tools needed to build positive mental health. Through conversations on authenticity, empathy, growth, resilience, altruism and values, youth develop the self-confidence to deal with the issues they’re facing and take positive action in their communities.

Want to join people like Shae-Lynn and help youth across Canada build positive mental health? Become a Road Team Volunteer! Want to learn more about Circles and how it can make a difference in your community? See how LiveDifferent can help!

Chloe: How everyday moments can change lives

Altruism is essential for mental well-being because it encourages us to put others first. Altruism helps us to build meaningful relationships and become part of something greater than ourselves.

People are at their best when they don’t just worry about themselves, but see themselves as a part of the greater good. In doing so, we begin to act as if our actions make a difference … because they do.

By being kind to ourselves and others, we can reduce stress, alleviate loneliness, and increase our feelings of optimism. Our actions can have a ripple effect, and our choices to be kind can have far-reaching impacts, beyond what we can even imagine.
Here’s how Chloe’s experience with altruism has improved her mental well-being.

Chloe Buckley

I was always the smallest in my family. I have an older sister and a whole bunch of cousins who are more like siblings. Growing up, I often felt like I was running after them, playing catch-up. And I wasn’t even the youngest!

We used to visit my cousin’s farm in Windsor, Ontario, and they had this treehouse. Looking back, I’m sure it was just a regular treehouse, but I was only a small kid at the time, so I remember everything being bigger than it was.

In my imagination, that tree house felt like it was five stories tall with four bathrooms, three pools, two games rooms and a full-size basketball court. And even though it didn’t actually have those things, it might as well have, because I never really got to see what was up there.

I’m a lot quieter than the rest of my family, and when I was younger, I had trouble speaking up for myself, which led to me not being noticed. So one by one, my sister and cousins sprinted up to the treehouse, leaving me behind. And when they got up there, I could hear them laughing and playing and bonding… all while I sat outside, alone.

I went from BEING the smallest in my family to FEELING like the smallest in my family.

And this wasn’t the only time. For years, I felt the sting of rejection as kids continued to overlook me and leave me out of their fun. And if I was included, sometimes I’d wonder, would anyone notice if I wasn’t there?

But one person who always noticed me was my Nana.

I used to call my nana often, but I didn’t always know what to say, so instead, I would read to her. I read all kinds of books to her, my favourite being this series called Percey Jackson and the Olympians, which was a fantasy series about Greek Mythology. And to be honest, I don’t think she cared for these books at all.

But to her, it didn’t matter what I read–it didn’t matter who I was–she just wanted to let me know that I mattered; that I was seen.

Finding my place in the world

Flash forward a few years, and I was going on my first LiveDifferent International Build at 14 years old, with this crazy dream that I could change the world. We were heading to the Dominican Republic to help build a house with a local family, and I had no idea what to expect.
We drove to the community where we would be working in a large open-back truck and I was taken aback by everything I saw. We walked through the community, crossing over a rickety bridge above a black, dirty stream of water that had a smell that I will never forget. In this community, they didn’t have regular garbage pickups and there was trash everywhere. Their sewage system was also non-existent, and the stream of black water and all of the piled-up garbage permeated throughout the entire community.

At this point, I wasn’t sure how I could help. I was a teenager who grew up in Oakville, Ontario, and I felt completely unqualified to help people who were dealing with challenges I couldn’t even imagine. This community was facing poverty, unemployment, health issues and insufficient access to education, clean water and sanitation facilities, among others.

I wanted to make a difference, it was important to me, but what I didn’t realize was that altruism looked a lot different than I thought.
As soon as our bus arrived at the destination, we were bombarded by a swarm of kids who demanded that we pick them up and carry them around on our backs. They grabbed our sunglasses to try them on, playing and laughing with us as they led us into their community. I knew that on this trip, we were going to be building a house with a family, but what started to build as soon as I got there was this deep sense of connection.

There was this moment when surrounded by the community, all those feelings I had experienced as a kid with being left out and separated from everyone started to fade away. I didn’t feel like I was standing on the ground looking up at this mysterious, magical treehouse wondering if someone would let me in. I was already in, being welcomed with open arms. I finally felt connected and like I belonged.

How altruism can happen in everyday moments

Entering into a community and knowing that I may not be able to do much to help felt overwhelming. But I learned that sometimes just being there, showing people that they matter, and giving whatever it is that you have to give can cause a ripple effect that can change lives.
During my time in the Dominican, I realized that sometimes it’s the people who seemingly have the least to give are the most selfless and caring. People in the community would bring coffee to the worksite, share their scarce food with others, and go out of their way to say hello or give you a helping hand.

It reminded me of my relationship with my Nana. I watched her get sick, powerless to do anything to make her ailments go away. But I was able to sit with her and be there for her in a different way. I read Percy Jackson and the Olympians to her again even when she couldn’t respond … I was able to show her that she mattered and was there for her, the same way she was there for me when I desperately needed it.
We live in a big world, one that faces so many harsh realities. Making a difference can feel overwhelming or scary. But you don’t need to leave the country – or even your own community – to make a difference. Being altruistic can happen in small, everyday moments that can have a big impact on someone’s life.

For me, I’ve been able to shrink the concept of altruism down to the idea of being able to notice the people that need to be noticed. Many of us are simply looking for someone to show us that we matter, that we belong; that we too can climb all the way to the top of that tree house if we’re just given the chance.

Because when you open your eyes and really start to see the people around you, you notice just how many opportunities you have to show someone that they matter and that they belong too.

Learn more

Mental health is an ongoing journey and it is important to make sure that we all take the time to check in with ourselves, our loved ones and our mental well-being.

LiveDifferent Circles equips young people with the skills and tools needed to build positive mental health. Through conversations on authenticity, empathy, growth, resilience, altruism and values, youth develop the self-confidence to deal with the issues they’re facing and take positive action in their communities.

Want to join people like Chloe and help youth across Canada build positive mental health? Become a Road Team Volunteer! Want to learn more about Circles and how it can make a difference in your community? See how LiveDifferent can help!

Antony: Overcoming self-doubt after a family tragedy

Resilience is the foundation for positive mental health and well-being. It allows us to confront difficult experiences and challenges in a more meaningful and productive way, enabling us to learn, grow, and become stronger from them.

Research shows that it’s not just what we go through that affects us, but it’s also the story that we tell ourselves. And if we stop and make meaning of life’s most difficult moments, they can actually help us develop a sense of purpose, take appropriate risks and create positive relationships with others.

Everything in life, both good and bad, can teach us something if we’re willing to learn from it. With resilience, we can turn obstacles into advantages and use them to create a life of greater meaning.

Here’s how Antony’s experience with resilience has improved his mental well-being.

Antony Nozicka-Spence

I am from Nisichawayasihk Cree Nation also known as Nelson House, M.B. When I think of Nelson House, I think of the crunchy snow and the cool crisp air; the dancing northern lights; and the smell of leaves in the fall.
But I also think of hockey.

It’s Friday night, and most of our town (2,500 people!) is packed in the arena to support our local hockey team, the NCN Flames. And then there is me standing up in front of the crowd, a cowbell in one hand, flag in the other screaming at the top of my lungs.

I had become the unofficial mascot. I remember the day they presented me with a foam flame head as a way to acknowledge my unofficial role on the team. I took my job very seriously.

My community feels like a giant hug. You can feel it when you step into someone’s house; when you have a conversation at the local store; and when we gather together for a powwow, the winter festival or a hockey game. You can feel the sense of community, comfort, safety and love. It feels like home.

But there is one thing that feels even more like home. It’s my family.

Becoming a little … spoiled

My family is so close. Growing up I remember when my mom would get a call from a friend inviting my parents to dinner or something and I could hear my mom on the phone like, “Can we bring the kids?” And when they would respond saying, “No, it’s adult’s night out,” my mom would respond, “Nope, can’t do it. If you change your mind and want to have kids there, count us in.”

My parents did everything with us and for us. My life was always comfortable. Unfortunately, this meant that I had become a little … spoiled. There were so many things that I couldn’t do because, well. I never had to. I genuinely started to believe that I was incapable of doing things myself. I felt stuck.

In the middle of COVID, I left my community and travelled nine hours south to attend the University of Manitoba. I found myself feeling isolated, depressed and unable to keep up. I ended up finishing the semester back home and decided not to return.

This felt like a huge failure and only reinforced the story that I had been telling myself: that I couldn’t do it. I believed I wasn’t strong enough, skilled enough and smart enough to succeed. It wasn’t until my sense of home started to collapse that I forced myself outside of my comfort zone once again and realized things could change.

Breaking away from the chains of comfort

One night, my parents and my older sister went out for the evening and on the way home they stopped along the side of the road because my Dad needed to use the washroom. It was a perfect case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. All of a sudden another car pulled up, and a guy jumped out of the vehicle and stabbed my dad two times in the stomach.

I remember seeing my Dad laying there in the hospital bed and I knew it was time for me to step up and become the man of the house.
Over the next 10 weeks while my dad was in the hospital I started doing things I never had to do before. I helped my mom with bills; took care of our vehicles; watched my nephew; cooked; cleaned; whatever I needed to in order to help make sure things were taken care of.
While doing all of these things, I found a sense of purpose and hope. I didn’t need to be stuck anymore.

It’s terrible that it took a family emergency to show me what I was capable of, but I think it was important for me that I went through that.
I now have learned that I am strong, capable and intelligent and that the limitations I had created for myself were all based on the story I was telling myself. I love my community, I love my family and the sense of home that they bring. But I know now it’s time for me to spread my wings and become the author of my own story.

Learn more

Mental health is an ongoing journey and it is important to make sure that we all take the time to check in with ourselves, our loved ones and our mental well-being.

LiveDifferent Circles equips young people with the skills and tools needed to build positive mental health. Through conversations on authenticity, empathy, growth, resilience, altruism and values, youth develop the self-confidence to deal with the issues they’re facing and take positive action in their communities.

Want to join people like Antony and help youth across Canada build positive mental health? Become a Road Team Volunteer!

Want to learn more about Circles and how it can make a difference in your community? See how LiveDifferent can help!

Max: Finding resilience through the pain of chronic illness

Max Goldsmith

A good campfire, s’mores, camp sing-alongs and kayaking. These were some of the things I was looking forward to on my way to camp for the first time.

Do you know what I wasn’t looking forward to?  The worst-case scenario I encountered on the way to camp.

We were driving down the highway when I realized that I needed to go to the bathroom—badly! My camp counsellor–who was one of the nicest people–brought me to the front of the bus and asked the driver to stop. But we were on the highway. There wasn’t anywhere to stop.

While the driver looked for an exit, I started to panic. My stomach was gurgling, the need to go was getting worse, and we weren’t getting any closer to finding a bathroom.

My camp counsellor tried to distract me with some games. And at some point, while I was counting all the white cars that passed us by, I realized that I had pooped my pants.

I was humiliated!

Eventually, we made it to a gas station where I could change, but the mark it left on me that day goes beyond the mark it left on my underwear. That was the day I became “that kid.” The one who is a little too much, who doesn’t fit in and causes problems.

But really, people just didn’t understand me and what I was going through.

Surviving years of chronic illness

I’ve had digestive issues all my life. I was chronically constipated, sometimes I would overeat, other times I would struggle to eat anything at all, and there were many times when I was in a lot of pain. This went on for years and years, but no one could tell me what was wrong.

And what’s worse, it felt like no one believed me either.

People would tell me that this was anxiety, that it was all in my head, and that if I took better care of myself, I wouldn’t feel this way. They made me feel like it was my fault like I didn’t deserve to be helped, and I started to really hate everyone around me. I even started to hate myself. I was so overwhelmed, I was in a lot of pain and I didn’t know what was going on with my own body. I couldn’t see a future for myself and was worried about what I would do if this didn’t end soon.

After years of being in pain, I was finally diagnosed with Crohn’s disease, which is an inflammatory disease that primarily affects your digestion. I was given some medication to help with the pain, but it didn’t really help. I still kept getting sicker and I kept going back to the hospital looking for relief. But no one would take me seriously.

One night, the pain got so bad, I thought I was dying. It was like nothing I had ever experienced before. My body was out of control, I was having violent twitches as a result of not being able to eat enough and I was scared that I was going to get seriously hurt.

I went to my local hospital, but the nurses dismissed my cries for help. They told me that it was all in my head, blaming what I was experiencing on my autism, and committed me to mental treatment. The doctor wouldn’t run any other tests, even though I was in unimaginable pain, and they wouldn’t address any of my symptoms. I was even tied to my bed and told that I wouldn’t be released until I stopped acting psychotic.

It was so degrading. I felt like an animal, an object like I was being punished for needing help. I was starving, dehydrated and alone – they didn’t contact my family and I was too afraid to ask for anything myself. When the psychiatrist finally came to see me, he could see that I wasn’t having a mental episode, and released me.

23 days later, I was on an operating table. I went to a different hospital with the same symptoms and, finally, someone heard me. It turns out the pain I was experiencing was due to a blockage in my intestine and my only option was to remove it through surgery. Finally, FINALLY, I was getting the help I needed.

Reframing pain and finding resilience

I was really angry about how I was treated for a long time. There were so many times when I thought it would be better to give up than to deal with this pain because it felt like I wasn’t ever going to get the help I needed. I was miserable and just didn’t want to be alive anymore.

But at some point, I started to change the narrative. I actually found solace at a camp for people with Crohn’s and Colitis disease. When I told the camp nurse my story, she helped me realize that I was telling myself the wrong one. I had been telling myself the story of what happened to me and what was done to me, but the real story is how I survived. I kept going back seeking help, even after how I was treated, even after so many people told me “no.” I kept fighting for that help and I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t.

Today, I’m still dealing with Crohn’s disease, but I have better doctors and support. I still struggle sometimes with my physical and mental health, but I think back to how I felt then and how I feel now and I’m so proud of all the progress I’ve made. This experience has given me the confidence to trust myself and my instincts because that’s what saved me. It’s given me the courage to look at other areas of my life and advocate for myself in a way I wasn’t able to before. I can see now that I never really wanted to end my life – I just wanted a better one.

I don’t want to let my struggles define me or prevent me from doing the things that matter, because otherwise, what’s the point? I get to do things that the younger me would be so proud of. I could never fully see a future for myself, but now I do. I can see myself being the person I’ve always looked up to, and I can look back on these moments and be grateful for the lessons I’ve learned.

Even though I still get depressed sometimes, I’m not going to let those moments break me. I’m not going to let them stop me from living my best life and doing the things that matter to me.

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