This First Person article reflects the experiences of Kaylee Maendel, a mental health advocate who lives in a Hutterite colony in southern Manitoba. For more information about CBC’s First Person stories, please see this FAQ. You can read more First Person articles here.
WARNING: This story includes reference to suicide. If you or someone you know is struggling, please see the end of this story for resources.
My name is Kaylee Maendel. I live in a Hutterite colony in southern Manitoba. My childhood overflowed with outdoor adventure — building teepees in the oak forests crowding the Assiniboine River valley, following streams, making bonfires and building villages.
But transitioning into a teenager brought many challenges. Between WeChat, Google Hangouts and Instagram, social media altered my world. I became infatuated with my peers and we texted late into the night (an absolute no-no, according to child psychologists).
To gain 24/7 access to the internet, I manipulated online safety barriers set by my parents. It led to a mutual collapse of trust and respect, and the deterioration of my mental health.
Between the ages of 15 and 17, I encountered vicious online harassment, which ripped away much of what I knew to be good and true about myself. During one unrelenting attack, personal images of myself and my self-harm scars were posted online with messages condemning me and my mental health struggles.
It was then that I made my first serious call to a national kids’ help line.
“My heart hurts so inexplicably, and I don’t want to breathe this air anymore.”
I remember apologizing for my anger — the result of frustration, helplessness and terror. But this calm, reassuring voice said, “You don’t need to explain or justify your feelings. You are allowed to be angry.”
For the past seven years, passive suicide ideation has been a constant, rearing its head on bad days, retreating to a soft, consistent shiver when life felt stable and safe.
I thought I’d achieved control through exercise addictions, drinking, self-harm and two severe eating disorders.
When that bubble burst, suicide seemed the only option.
‘It feels like a black hole’
Someone once said, “That’s an awfully permanent solution for a temporary problem,” but when one is deep in despair, when washing my hair and saying “good morning” are impossible, it doesn’t feel temporary. It feels like a black hole, swirling, tugging me closer every second of the day.
I verbalized this to a kids’ help line phone counsellor, and the Earth didn’t shatter! They didn’t make a fuss or scold, but stated, “That sounds lonely. I’d like to ask you to do a safety check, if that’s OK with you. You’re allowed to say no.”
They emphasize and prioritize safety and autonomy. To me, this is crucial in cementing trust for a struggling person.
When I said, “I don’t think I can keep myself safe tonight,” or, “This call didn’t work for me. I still feel X, Y or Z,” the counsellor would respond, “Not everyone’s call will be a hit. That’s OK. You can always try again later,” or, “How about we create a safety plan together?”
There was no judgment — just a candid acknowledgement of a human on the other end. Not a statistic or crisis. Just me, Kaylee “of a thumping heart and a difficult story.”
And I know there are others out there, struggling like me.
Shame doesn’t promote healing, and the kids’ help line counsellors helped me realize that.– Kaylee Maendel
Recently released Canadian Mental Health Association statistics say about 20 per cent of Canadian youth aged 25 and under experience mental illness. Almost 25 per cent of all hospitalizations for children and youth aged (ages five to 24) were for mental health reasons.
In Manitoba, 10 per cent of youth and 17 per cent of teens experience significant mental health addictions or struggles. Furthermore, suicide is the leading cause of death for youth ages 10 through 17.
This gets me back to why access to help is imperative. For me, it was in the form of the kids’ help line.
After verbalizing my struggle with anorexia and bulimia, for example, a counsellor talked with me for more than two hours.
I wrestled with the impact of these disorders on my relationships with family and friends. I carry deep shame knowing I have gutturally sobbed over food. I’ve fought with my parents about restaurant choices, because the calories weren’t on the menu or the food wasn’t prepared like I wanted.
This irrational need for control tore holes in my relationships, as I lied or danced around the truth to prevent people from finding out.
‘This is not a 1-person effort‘
But shame doesn’t promote healing, and the kids’ help line counsellor helped me realize that.
Recently, as my community prepared for Easter, church sermons resonated with forgiveness, a call to caring for our Mitmenschen, fellow humans. Jesus calls his followers to reflect His love to a dark world through good works: “Ihr seid das Licht der Welt. You are the light of the world.” (Matthew 5:14)
On Instagram, I articulate my mental health journey with posts about taking medication, navigating suicidal thoughts, and my knowledge of barriers faced within the Hutterite cultures.
Many Hutterian young people are unable to access therapeutic services. Like many religious cultures, a taboo has a fast hold on our collective conversations about mental health.
We can create a domino effect for positive change, as a kids’ help line did for me.– Kaylee Maendel
The responses to my social media posts so far have been noteworthy. I’ve heard from moms who struggle post-partum, or feel alone navigating children with disabilities, to young people grappling with feeling unsafe in their community.
My account is about encouragement, education and hope, so that together we can fight the shame that surrounds mental health.
This raises the question, “How can I be of service?” One day I would like to provide reliable, professional support to those struggling in our Hutterian communities.
This is not a one-person effort! Together we can create a domino effect for positive change, as a kids’ help line did for me.
Thank you to all the counsellors on the kids’ help line. I’m here because you provided a safe, non-judgmental place to talk about whatever’s on your mind.
If you or someone you know is struggling, here’s where to look for help:
