Nykole King
Regina Leader-Post
The end of the year feels like a fresh start for Jayne Whyte, who has struggled with suicidal thoughts almost all her life.
In addition to the holidays, Whyte turns 78 on Dec. 19. She didn’t think she would make it to that age, so it’s a pleasant surprise for her to look forward to.
“I’ve had a number of suicide attempts which I had to wake up from. That’s a very powerful second chance, and I haven’t always appreciated it,” Whyte said with a laugh, thinking about how her perspective has changed.
“My last serious attempt was in 2004, and I look back at the last 20-some years and see all the good things that have happened. You know, it’s a lot of second chances.”
The holiday season feels like a fresh slate as it ushers in a new year, Whyte says. It’s a time for forgiveness towards others as well as for herself.
Whyte has a dissociative personality disorder, meaning she experiences two or more parts that make up her whole identity. It can feel like a disconnection of her consciousness, she says, describing it as having “parts” of herself.
Some parts are happy, smiling and telling jokes while at the same time another part of Whyte is severely suicidal.
Whyte has spent her life advocating for better mental health treatment for patients, while also working to de-stigmatize mental health with the Canadian Mental Health Association (CMHA).
That advocacy and volunteer work has hit a 50-year milestone. Whyte was awarded for her service to the province earlier this year when she received the Saskatchewan Volunteer Medal.
The Kindersley-born woman experienced abuse at a young age, and she thought about dying when she was five years old, she says. She first tried to die by suicide in 1965, and battled with it most of her adult life.
It’s not a topic Whyte shies away from, as someone with a chronic mental illness and also as a mental health advocate.
Whyte is deeply familiar with hard times. In the lead up to the Christmas holidays, she finds ways to let others know they’re not alone by writing heartfelt Christmas cards to everyone who lives on the floor of her low-income apartment building in Regina.
It’s a simple act, but one Whyte does in case it makes a difference to those around her; in case they are struggling during the holidays.
“There’s a need for someone to say ‘I see you. I care about you. I know you’re here. I appreciate when we cross paths in the hallways,’” Whyte said about the seasonal greeting cards. “It’s a little way to make a big difference in some people’s lives.”
‘Seeing the good’
Whyte has made it a practice to thoughtfully focus on the good or kind qualities of those around her. She journals about it each week.
The ritual has helped Whyte train her brain to actively appreciate the world around her even when she’s going through depressive episodes.
“Some people can get really caught in their depression and not see the good things,” said Whyte. “So one of the ways I’ve tried to keep balance in my life is seeing the good things.”
While Whyte does this practice all through the year, she finds it easier around Christmas as people are more deliberate in how they treat each other.
Christmas can trigger feelings of loneliness, stress or depression in some people. Whyte says at times she’s felt unwilling to celebrate special events herself.
Whyte explains that it can be hard to feel joyful at the holidays when you’re dealing with numbness or dark feelings. It can feel like you’re expected not to share those feelings, but she says it can help to have someone to confide in.
“It’s okay to hate your birthday or that you feel uncomfortable about Christmas,” said Whyte. “I can understand that. You might not want to say that to everybody, but there have to be people in our lives with whom we can be that honest.”
‘I care’
Whyte hasn’t always been able to feel she could be honest about what she was going through in her own life.
At five years old, after having her tonsils removed, Whyte wrote in her journal that she was disappointed she woke up from the surgery.
Already at that age, Whyte had internalized dark feelings she felt she shouldn’t share, even with her mother.
Instead, Whyte channelled those feelings into her writing. Neatly stacked file boxes in her apartment hold 65 years worth of journals that detail her experience of living with a chronic mental illness, dating back to when she was 13.
Writing has been an important part of her healing process. Ahead of her two-hour weekly therapy appointments, she will write out her reflections a few days in advance, for around four hours.
That decades-long practice of writing deeply emotional reflections has made Whyte adept at using her sincerity to connect with others through a Christmas card.
When she writes those personalized cards to each of her neighbours, Whyte reflects on how she cares for them, or that she remembers how they’re still grieving a recent loss.
“To say ‘I can see you’re hurt and I care about your hurt.’ And Christmas… is one of the few times that I can say that without seeming to be critical,” said Whyte.
The season can soften people in a way that makes them more able to hear how others care for them, Whyte says.
It’s why she makes a point of sliding the cards under the doors of her neighbours.
‘Safety net’
In the 50 years of working with the CMHA, Whyte has become a cornerstone to the organization, explains Rebecca Rackow, the assistant executive director of the Saskatchewan division.
Rackow’s work includes presenting or providing information on mental health care and illness. She feels the gravity of how her decisions in the advocacy organization could impact “thousands of people in our province.”
Whyte’s advice, which includes her decades of advocacy experience and first-hand as a patient in the mental health care system, helps Rackow feel more at ease to push ahead.
“It’s like having a safety net if you’re walking on a tightrope,” Rackow said.
Rackow started her social work practicum with the CMHA in September of 2016, which was when she first met Whyte. Rackow still remembers that moment because Whyte was scouring the archive room, which she later found out was a common thing for her to do.
Rackow recalls her supervisor telling her: “If you want to know anything about our history, anything about our organization or any of the initiatives that we’ve taken, talk to Jayne. She knows everything.”
Whyte knew so much because she had written the book on the history of mental health care in Saskatchewan, titled Pivot points: A fragmented history of mental health in Saskatchewan that was published in 2012.
It details how the province began widespread institutionalization of people with the first mental hospital in North Battleford in 1912. In later decades, mental health care transitioned to community-based services so patients could access treatment in their home communities.
Whyte has retired from most of her contract and volunteer roles with the CMHA this year, including the provincial newsletter to all CMHA members.
‘Make life better’
In her adult life, Whyte spent stints in mental hospitals and psychiatric ward across the province, from North Battleford to Saskatoon, to Kindersley and Regina.
Whyte was diagnosed with schizophrenia in 1967. Up until 2004, she would spend three to six months of every year in hospital seeking care.
But she had avoided being institutionalized, as the province started winding down the practice in 1971, with the closing of the Weyburn psychiatric hospital and the number of patient beds in North Battleford being reduced.
Whyte would speak with patients in similar situations while sitting in hospital waiting rooms. Soon she discovered she had a “desire to make life better” for those affected by mental illness.
“I would see other people for whom it was even harder than it was for me, and there didn’t seem to be people that cared (about them),” Whyte said.
That motivated Whyte to join the CMHA Kindersley branch in 1975.
For several years, Saskatchewan board members did not knew she had first-hand experience with the mental health system as a patient, says David Miller, who also served on the provincial CMHA board at the same time as Whyte.
While the organization was made up of advocates, Miller explains that few people were publicly open about mental health struggles at the time. Following a Saskatchewan task force report from the CMHA about reviewing provincial services for patients, Miller asked Whyte if she would consider speaking at the organization’s national conference in 1984.
“Jayne was such a good speaker and so passionate that we really encouraged them to put themselves out there,” said Miller, who was president of the Saskatchewan board. “It was a big risk for people like Jayne to come out and indicate that they were people with lived experience.”
But that speech led to Whyte more proudly using her voice and amplifying others, says Miller. It helped bring about a national movement to centre patients in the treatment of mental health care and include them and their families in conversations.
“For somebody like Jayne, the mental health movement was her life, and I think that’s the big difference,” said Miller, reflecting on the power of having Whyte speak at the conference.
Whyte is considered one of the “grandmothers of the mental health movement,” according to the letters in support of her nomination for the Saskatchewan Volunteer Medal, compiled by Miller.
Rackow says having Whyte as a mentor has helped her to better understand how she can be a stronger advocate.
“Jayne is a very driven, very focused person who is not afraid to stand up for ensuring that voices are heard that don’t usually get to be heard, no matter what’s in her way,” said Rackow.
‘Inner struggle’
Whyte received the diagnosis of dissociative personality disorder in 2005 at age 58. It’s one of the less understood mental health conditions.
It’s been a long road to being understood by mental health professionals, and figuring out what treatments would help her.
Some doctors have found it hard to believe that a person struggling with mental health is also capable of being involved in volunteer and advocacy work.
“The people we meet in our day-to-day life often don’t know of our inner struggle,” says Whyte.
Whyte has been compiling her writings and journal entries, detailing her inner and outer life, for submission to the Provincial Archives of Saskatchewan. She hopes it will help mental health researchers better understand her condition and the experience of a patient.
“The professionals we meet often don’t pay attention to the committees we’re on and the things we write and the people we help,” said Whyte. “One of the things I would really like professionals to know is that people are more than their pain.”
If you or someone you know is in immediate danger of self-harm or experiencing suicidal thoughts, please contact Crisis Services Canada (1-833-456-4566), Regina Mobile Crisis Services (306-525-5333), Saskatoon Mobile Crisis (306-933-6200), Prince Albert Mobile Crisis Unit (306-764-1011), or the Hope for Wellness Help Line, which provides culturally competent crisis intervention counselling support for Indigenous peoples (1-855-242-3310).
