Vancouver, BC — June 17, 2025 – With British Columbians increasingly affected by distressing news, including climate-related disasters like wildfires, international conflicts, tariff uncertainty, and political unrest, the Crisis Centre of BC is urging news outlets to include mental health crisis resources in their coverage.
The 310-6789 mental health crisis line is BC’s primary line offering free, confidential, and immediate support to anyone in British Columbia, 24 hours a day. The Crisis Centre encourages journalists, producers, and editors to reference this number in stories covering traumatic or emotionally challenging topics.
“When the news feels overwhelming, many people in our communities experience anxiety, fear, or uncertainty. People directly affected by the events may want help to think through their next steps,” said Stacy Ashton, Executive Director of the Crisis Centre of BC. “We want to remind folks that they are not alone. Support is just a phone call away.”
By integrating mental health crisis resources into media coverage, journalists, editors, and producers can play a pivotal role in connecting individuals to crisis support lines.
Key Information:
BC Crisis Line: 310-6789 (no area code needed, available 24/7 across BC).
Who It’s For: Anyone in BC experiencing emotional distress, anxiety, loneliness, fear, uncertainty, or mental health concerns.
What We Ask: When covering stories related to traumatic events, please include a note encouraging the public to contact the 310-6789 line for support.
Additional Resources in BC
1-800-SUICIDE is the BC suicide prevention and intervention phone line.
9-8-8 is the national suicide crisis phone and text line.
We are sharing personal stories from those who have experienced suicide grief. These reflections may offer connection, comfort, or a sense of understanding to others navigating a similar loss. This is one story in our series. You can find all of our stories on our updates page.
This story discusses themes that readers may find upsetting. If you or someone you know is struggling or needs help, support is available.
Nooria arrived from Pakistan to Canada in 2002 after previously fleeing Afghanistan during the rise of the war in the 1990s. For many international citizens seeking political asylum, the transition from their homeland to a brand new country can be jarring, but Nooria emphasizes that she and her family felt blessed to be welcomed into the safety of British Columbia. Above all else, Nooria values the support of family and having them by her side was pivotal not only for the massive adjustment of immigrating to a new country, but in every stage of life that followed— including the passing of her late husband from suicide.
Roohullah reached out to Nooria in 2013 on Facebook. They had attended high school together in Pakistan and Roohullah was looking to connect with people from his past that had also moved to Canada. Even though she couldn’t remember meeting him in school, the two of them started to chat online and their relationship quickly began to prosper. By 2014 they were married and Nooria had packed her life up once again, this time moving across the country to live with Roohullah in Toronto.
Nooria remembers their early years of marriage with a complicated suite of emotions. In her culture, men are expected to be the head of the household and subsume the duties of looking after their parents as they age. Roohullah took the role of provider very seriously, working long and tedious hours running a breakfast restaurant in Toronto while also dutifully looking after his aging parents. Unfortunately, this left Nooria often feeling lonely and without support, as her own family remained on the West Coast. To compensate, she threw herself into studying to become an early childhood educator and visited her family whenever she could.
Things came to a boiling point after the birth of her son in 2017. After a difficult birth by C-section, it was revealed that her son would need to remain in the hospital for monitoring. Days turned into weeks, turned into months— and finally, 8 months after he was born, he was cleared to go home. Home for Nooria, was where her family resided. More than ever before, she needed the support of her mother and sister. Roohullah would remain in Toronto to continue running his business and stay with his parents. A divide had been created between the two of them, and geography was to grow that divide even further.
Roohullah did eventually join Nooria in British Columbia in early 2019, but sadly, in the summer of 2020 she received news her husband had died by suicide. “My brain turned off and separated itself from my body.” Dissociation and derealization are common coping mechanisms in the grieving process. For Nooria, they were necessary to get through the difficult weeks and months ahead. In many cultures, including South Asia, suicide is a taboo subject, even more so when religious values play a role. When people experience suicide loss within a system that emphasizes suicide as a sin or failure, the blame is passed around, leading to a toxic cycle of division and silence. This exact cycle is where Nooria initially found herself.
Roohullah’s family, grieving in their own way, placed the blame onto Nooria, looking for a scapegoat for their own complicated emotions. It is worth emphasizing that no one is ever to blame for the actions of another, and the choice to extend empathy and support is always the better option over blame and isolation.
Nooria
Thankfully, Nooria’s story extends beyond the narrative placed upon her by others. She had the strength of her family behind her the entire time, offering her endless support: emotionally, financially, spiritually. Her son was still her number one priority and she once again threw herself into motherhood. She would take long walks with him in nature, giving herself over to the elements and God while freely directing her anger and pain to the sky above.
Every morning she prayed for guidance and hope, beginning a journey that would transform and deepen her spirituality and knowledge base. The journey began in earnest when she signed up for a conscious grief summit after its program mysteriously found itself in her email inbox. Attending the summit opened her up to a new world completely: “What I was learning about grief gave me a voice for the feelings I was already experiencing.” Without language and concepts to filter our feelings through, it can be difficult to process them effectively— one of many reasons why suicide loss resources are necessary in our communities.
After the summit, Nooria dove headfirst into her healing journey. She took classes in everything from forgiveness mediation, to yoga, to energy and chakra healing. With every new class she attended or practice she followed, she took wisdom from the experience and carried it over into the next. All the while, she still returned to the guidance of her ismaili faith (present Imam) and God. “I learned to trust the universe and trust the process.” Through her spirituality, she was able to find forgiveness: for herself, for her husband, for his family. “I chose love, life and healing rather than focusing on the past.”
Every person is on their own path— and when one walks a path of grief, they alone decide how best to make peace with their feelings. Some people may want to forever hold onto their past and cherish the memories of a lost loved one, but for others it’s best to prioritize the present and walk towards a future of peace and contentment.
Nooria wishes to spread a message of peace and comfort to those who read her story or cross her path. As she always has, she places emphasis on community and urges those who would like to get involved to volunteer or donate to organizations that offer support for suicide loss— or to reach out and build support bridges of your own.
Along her journey, Nooria learned and practiced the indigenous Hawaiian prayer for forgiveness (ho’oponopono). A powerful tool for many in the grieving process, I find it a fitting note on which to end her story: “I’m sorry, Please forgive me, Thank you, I love you.”
We are sharing personal stories from those who have experienced suicide grief. These reflections may offer connection, comfort, or a sense of understanding to others navigating a similar loss. This is one story in our series. You can find all of our stories on our updates page.
This story discusses themes that readers may find upsetting. If you or someone you know is struggling or needs help, support is available.
There is no model for grief, each experience is singular. A dichotomy can exist when we find a community based on shared experiences. There is of course comfort to be found in communal storytelling, but one can also feel isolated by the differences in each individual’s story. Dustine often finds herself navigating the gaps these differences cause. The story of her eldest daughter, Avery, challenges our biases surrounding suicide in young adults. There was no catalyst, no long history of mental health issues and no childhood trauma. When Avery’s mental health did noticeably decline, it happened quickly and acutely, the way it might with a physical illness that had long gone undetected.
Avery’s family often joked she was “not like other girls”. Her mother, Dustine would later specify that she wasn’t like anyone else, period. A complete individual, Avery was headstrong, independent, and a fierce defender of human rights and social justice.
Dustine, a former English teacher used her love of literature as a foundation for how she parented her two daughters. When Avery quickly surpassed her grade’s reading level, Dustine turned to the classics, eager to share the timeless stories that have inspired generations of young women: Pride and Prejudice, Little Women, The Secret Garden— of which Avery was so fond that at the age of eight she attended a university lecture on the novel with Dustine, who was taking a course in children’s literature for her undergraduate degree.
Avery in the Palace of Versailles
The summer before Avery was to start the International Baccalaureate program, (an advanced placement education opportunity) her family took a vacation to France and Italy. It was a first for all of them, as well as an opportunity to explore the world of the novels and real world history that Avery was drawn towards. In France, Avery was particularly fond of the Palace of Versailles, which she had learned about in social studies the year prior. Dustine recalls that the first photo she took at the palace was not of the building or grounds itself, but of Avery observing the Palace of Versailles for the first time— her face transfixed with wonder. And in the city of Florence, the two of them split off for a day, learning alongside one another as they wandered the endless maze of churches and museums that unfolded across the city. Dustine was immensely proud of her daughter. “Avery absorbed everything. I’ve never known anyone as capable of learning as she was.”
It was no surprise that Avery went on to study biology with a minor in anthropology at UVIC under a full scholarship. Not only was she influenced by literature and the arts, she was also driven by the pursuit of facts and truth. Avery had little patience for façades and pretenses, the little stories we all tell ourselves to feel better. This philosophy would wind up weaving its way into how Dustine would examine and present her grief.
For Dustine, the initial feelings of grief presented as shock and derealization— a complex storm of competing emotions and thoughts. Then of course came the shame and guilt. The thoughts of what could I have done to prevent this? What will people in our community think? “You look back and can see all the red flags. You replay all your decisions and every conversation.” There was even an instinct to hide the truth, to sweep the whole thing under the rug and stay silent. But as Dustine stated many times in our conversation, Avery would have rolled her eyes at the whole thing; she had zero tolerance for lies and secrecy, she would have wanted them to lead with honesty, no matter how painful.
In the weeks and months after Avery’s death, the family took solace in isolating together as a unit. Curled up together in the den, they binged hours of television. Planet Earth, Stranger Things, Hell’s Kitchen— the programs blurred together in a string of moving images and sound. But amidst the fog, they made sure to give one another the space, both physical and emotional, to say and feel whatever they pleased. There were no boundaries placed on their communications, a facet that contributes to the family’s closeness both pre and post loss.
Getting back into a semblance of a routine happened gradually for Dustine. It’s still an ongoing transition— one that has no linear path. Describing the disorientation of trauma, she pulls upon an image from the novel Switch by author A.S. King, who also lost her daughter to suicide. In the novel, the flow of natural time has stopped, leading people to record time in strange ways, one of which being a house that turns itself upside down in quarter measures. For Dustine, there was a sense of having to leave her upside down world at home and return to a right-side up world. When she began to attend social gatherings or slowly dip her toes back into work, she was leaving a space of safe, physical isolation and entering into a world of emotional isolation. Dustine is fortunate to have many close friends she describes as an extension of her family, and yet that closeness is the very thing that can highlight one’s grief. Barbecues and birthdays become painful reminders that your own family picture is now incomplete. An unspoken tension builds throughout the events, and afterwards, at home, the grief comes in waves. It takes an immense amount of effort to return to the spaces that once seemed so joyful; so normal.
It was this same author that started the process of connecting Dustine to other loss survivors. She had initially followed A.S. King as an English teacher interested in the author’s work, but after Avery’s passing, Dustine saw a post by the writer discussing the complicated nature of “suicide prevention” on suicide loss survivors. Dustine reached out to King, who connected her with The Leftover Pieces Podcast and support group. With time, Dustine expanded her network of aid by joining a support group offered by the Crisis Centre, as well as a virtual group of mothers who had lost their children to suicide— all of which were instrumental in helping Dustine feel less alone and understood. The support she received in her various networks was instrumental in her early grief journey and allowed her to begin the ongoing, difficult transition back to the world of routine.
There was a time when Dustine couldn’t imagine returning to the school she taught at prior to Avery’s death. In 2019, she had transitioned from being an English teacher to a support teacher, a role that put her face to face with the litany of struggles faced by our youth. One can imagine the series of triggers that could arise from returning to such a role. It wasn’t an easy transition, but gradually through the support of her co-workers and routine of the work, she returned to the teacher she always was and still is.
Again, Dustine turns to art to illustrate her emotions. In the TV show Severance, the lead character Mark undergoes a medical procedure that severs his brain, ensuring he retains no memories of the outside world while at work, and has no recollection of his job once he leaves. Fittingly, Mark signs up for the procedure to escape the grief he feels over the death of his wife. When Dustine rewatched the show recently, she was struck by the image of Mark in the elevator, his work-self coming into his body. To some extent we all subsume a work identity, but for people experiencing grief, your work-self can become an avatar separate from your internal world. Your grief is compartmentalized, left waiting for you in the elevator or car ride home.
“I don’t ever not want to break down. I don’t ever not want to be sad. I don’t ever not want to feel the absence.”
Of course in grief there truly is no forgetting, nor would Dustine ever want to move on. “I don’t ever not want to break down. I don’t ever not want to be sad. I don’t ever not want to feel the absence. It sucks to feel so shitty, but I don’t know if it’s something I want to get better from.”
There will always be an absence a person once occupied, but perhaps there is solace to be found in the feeling, no matter how painful. Pain, after all, coexists with remembering. And who would want to forget Avery and the impact she had on her family and community at large?
Dustine is still on a journey of figuring out how best to honour Avery. She journals to her often, and more often still filters world events through Avery’s lens. How would someone preoccupied with truth and justice feel about the chaos that has descended over our systems of government? Dustine makes an effort to continue Avery’s activism, working with local charities and staying properly informed, while understanding her own limits and sanity in battling injustices.
Avery’s legacy is and will be much greater than what I can possibly communicate in this piece, but if there’s one thing we can learn from her it’s to be honest and direct, even when discussing something as painful and complicated as suicide. When asked about supporting those grieving suicide loss, Dustine urges them to “practice being comfortable with the uncomfortable” and to “sit with the discomfort of pain that has no cure.” There are no platitudes that will make the pain of grief subside, there are no easy answers, but in sharing our stories, in building bridges of understanding, we chip away at the stigma that surrounds suicide. We honour the truth.
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Crisis support is available 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. If you or someone you know needs help, please call or text 9-8-8 from anywhere in Canada or the US.
We’ve been deeply moved by the feedback we’ve received from people who have called the lines, attended a youth workshop, or attended our bereavement events. We wanted to share some of their words with you:
From our Bereavement Program:
“I genuinely appreciate that these offerings are more available, that there are opportunities now each month. It means a great deal to feel connection with those that understand the complexity of suicide grief. I have always appreciated Jesse and his compassionate and validating presence and wish I could attend more often, but just knowing it’s there helps reduce the isolation in my grief.”
“Thank you so much for providing this experience. When my brother died by suicide 10 years ago all I wanted was to find other siblings who experienced the same thing and I couldn’t find any groups or people who had gone through it. This means a lot to me and makes a huge difference in my life. I appreciate the skilled, warm facilitation and easygoing vibe of the group.”
“I appreciated to have the opportunity to join this walk. I was made comfortable with all the facilitators who were gentle and kind, creating a safe feeling. I appreciated the format with introductions, the grounding and the plan with guidelines. I needed the grounding and found it helpful to begin. To have two separate walking partners was appreciated, to meet people and share within such a calming atmosphere in nature. Gathering together allowed me to feel a bit less alone in my grief. Seeing others who also feel this particular traumatic grief mirrored my pain which was of comfort. To experience connection was important.”
“I really liked the presenters, they had really good information and lived experiences. They sounded like they really knew what they were talking about. Coming from someone who has had some really tough experiences with my mental health this was super helpful.”
“I actually need something like this in my life. I learned ways to care about myself.”
“I have hosted your team a few times now and always get good feedback. I think breaking down the stigma by just talking about these topics is so important. The facilitators are always very friendly, warm, and flexible with each group that we have.”
These testimonials are a powerful reminder of the difference our donors make. Because of your kindness, young people are learning crucial skills for their wellbeing, those in crisis find a lifeline, and those navigating the unimaginable pain of loss find belonging and support. If you wish to support us, your gift is always welcome, and will allow us to take even more calls, reach even more young people, and continue offering our bereavement events and support groups.
This story contains explicit mentions of suicidality and the impacts of suicide.
Jessica sits on the edge of her bed, the world a blur of despair. The thoughts had been swirling for weeks, but tonight, they were deafening. “It would be better if I wasn’t here,” she whispers, tears streaming down her face. Overwhelmed and afraid, she dials 911.
Police arrive and transport Jessica to the emergency room. Jessica feels shame being walked out to the police car, and fears her neighbours will think she is being arrested. In a busy, loud emergency room, the bright lights and sterile environment do little to ease her distress. After hours of waiting, a doctor finally sees her. She recounted her thoughts, her feelings of hopelessness.
“Are you planning to harm yourself right now?” the doctor asked.
“I… don’t know,” Jessica stammered, her voice trembling.
After a brief assessment, the doctor concludes that Jessica doesn’t meet the threshold for admission. “You’re experiencing significant distress,” he tells her, “but you’re not in immediate danger. Here’s a pamphlet on mental health resources. Please follow up with your family doctor.”
Jessica is discharged, the pamphlet crumpled in her pocket. She finds her own way home, alone once more. Without any immediate follow-up or support, Jessica’s despair intensifies. She wonders if she has to actually attempt to kill herself to be taken seriously.
Another Path: The Continuum of Care
As before, the 911 operator answers, and Jessica, through tears, tries to convey her distress. The operator, trained in crisis intervention protocols, recognizes the signs of a mental health emergency.
“Jessica,” the operator says calmly, “I understand you’re going through a very difficult time. We want to get you the right kind of support. I’m going to connect you with the Crisis Centre of BC.”
The 911 operator facilitates a warm transfer, directly connecting Jessica to the Crisis Centre. A calm, compassionate voice answers. “Crisis Centre, how can I help you?”
Jessica pours out her heart about her fears, her feelings of hopelessness. The responder listens patiently, validating her emotions. They don’t dismiss her pain, but acknowledge its reality. They ask about her safety plan, and if she has any support people.
The responder helps her explore coping strategies, offering practical advice and emotional support. They talk about her feelings, her triggers, and her strengths. They work with her to create a safety plan.
“You’re not alone,” they reassure her. “We’re here for you. We can connect you with follow-up support, including mental health services and community resources.”
Instead of being discharged into a void, Jessica receives a referral to a community-based support program. She is offered a follow up call from the crisis line the next day. She feels seen and supported.
The crisis line, acting as a crucial first point of contact, de-escalates the immediate crisis. The follow-up support ensures that Jessica receives the ongoing care she needs, preventing a potential suicide attempt.
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Crisis lines are available across British Columbia 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. If you or someone you know needs help, please call:
A transportation agency in the Lower Mainland has partnered with the Crisis Centre to train employees with our two-dayASIST workshop. The aim is to provide workers with the skills and training to handle difficult situations that arise while on the job, as well as identifying and giving them the support necessary to process any emotions or past traumas. The partnership has proved so successful, that after running several ASIST sessions in late 2024, more have been scheduled and are underway in 2025.
Many who work with the public could benefit from taking a training like ASIST. It is not hard to imagine many types of frontline jobs in Vancouver that are not considered “first responders,” yet workers find themselves in situations where ASIST may serve as an incredibly beneficial tool.
We asked a spokesperson a few questions about their experience and motivations behind working with the Crisis Centre.
Can you describe your motivations behind partnering with the Crisis Centre of BC to provide this training?
At the beginning of trying to obtain applied suicide skills intervention training, I reviewed all possible opportunities from across Canada and US providers. Upon reviewing the qualifications and the local knowledge of the trainers from the Crisis Centre of BC, the decision became very evident that this was the provider who would deliver training at a high level of expertise, and would be able to adjust and pivot based on the diverse industry exposure that I was coordinating for.
What was your experience like working with the Crisis Centre and would you change anything?
From the moment that we started to work with the Crisis Centre, their attention to detail and passion shone through. The staff were thorough, detail-oriented, and always ensured that our needs were addressed. They worked to facilitate the best user experience possible. There is currently nothing that I would change regarding the staffing, logistics, customer service, or instructors.
What are the unique challenges faced by frontline workers in your industry in recognizing and responding to individuals in crisis?
While our frontline workers often respond to situations alongside fire, police, and ambulance personnel, they can sometimes be overlooked for the psychological impacts that they are exposed to. It takes a very progressive leader to be able to identify the vicarious trauma that can occur for those who are working alongside first responders who “didn’t sign up” for exposure to traumatic events. The unique challenge for this workforce is that they are continually exposed to the area which the trauma originated resulting in a higher likelihood of reliving the traumatic event. The key is to aid our staff in processing the emotions and feelings and get all the support they need.
How do you feel it will impact Lower Mainland communities to have your staff trained in the skills that ASIST teaches?
The worth of having trained personnel in various areas of the community in which we serve is invaluable. Knowing that if a person is in crisis, we have the resources, the aptitude, and the willingness to help those in our community. The intrinsic rewards to each of our staff knowing they can help someone in need is invaluable.
How has the training impacted your employees? Have you noticed any changes?
The training has positively impacted our staff on many levels. We have had members of our staff already utilize the ASIST skill sets they learned in the classroom and have applied it in the field. Additionally, it has brought to light that we have staff who have not yet processed unresolved traumas associated with past experiences. This has given us the opportunity to assist them in getting the resources and the supports they need, though later than they realized, and now even more valuable to process.
Has anything surprised you about how your staff has responded to having to take training related to suicide and suicide prevention?
Initially I was skeptical about some of our “old school” mentality of employees adopting this new and open way to communicate with others about mental health and providing a positive environment in which to process crises. The uptake in our organization and the promotion of this course to their peers has been uplifting and a welcome change in the overall culture of our organization.
What are the long-term goals for this partnership and how do you envision expanding or improving the training program in the future?
Initially, the training has been focused on frontline staff that have immediate day-to-day interactions with customers; the proposed future direction is to expand this to all staff. Additionally, we are looking to have this as a mandatory prerequisite for those who are hired into a role that has the potential to be exposed to trauma or crisis events.
What advice would you give to other workplaces that serve the public, who are considering implementing similar training programs?
My advice to other workplaces that are looking to provide not only support to their staff, but to have an impact in our communities is to realize that when we want to be the catalyst for change we can be that small pebble in a pond that creates huge ripple effects In our community. I highly encourage everyone to look at this as an asset for not only your staff but those who could benefit from the outcomes of this training.
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Supporting those in crisis benefits entire communities. In times like these, wherea growing number of mental health care needs remain unmet, it becomes increasingly important for everyone, including workers who interact directly with the public, to recognize when another person is in crisis, and to know how to respond. One way we can help each other and ourselves is by learning how to deal with crises in our everyday lives – even in the workplace.
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Crisis lines are available across British Columbia 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. If you or someone you know needs help, please call:
9-8-8 (call or text)
310-6789 (no area code needed)
1-800-SUICIDE / 1-800-784-2433
604-872-3311
If you are interested in learning suicide prevention skills, you can:
This story contains explicit mentions of suicidality and the impacts of suicide.
Angela Kyle is an Applied Suicide Intervention Skills Training (ASIST) instructor with the Crisis Centre of BC. Since joining the organization in 2017, Angela has led upwards of one hundred ASIST training sessions, providing thousands of individuals with the invaluable ability to preserve lives in their communities. Her dedication to her role as a trainer is a result of her commitment to benevolence; her kindness is obvious through her interest in others and willingness to lend an ear, however and whenever.
Beneath her happy-go-lucky façade is an extraordinary story of strength, one that the Crisis Centre of BC has had the privilege of contributing to. She champions a forthright approach to handling instances of suicidality, encouraging us to address any suspicions of suicidal intentions in others without hesitance. By asking others about their emotions, we can demonstrate a willingness to help make sense of them.
Understand her philosophy and meet this plainclothes hero as we explore her connections to herself, her community, and the Centre.
What is ASIST?
ASIST is a two-day suicide intervention workshop. It covers topics such as – how do you know if someone’s thinking about suicide? How do you ask them if they’re thinking about it? What do I do if they say yes? How do I help them find a way to care for themselves?
Standard protocol regarding suicidality is to call the police and have them taken to a hospital to be seen by a doctor. However, the hospital is not equipped to handle cases of suicidality. They may perform a risk assessment, but even if someone states, ‘I’m going to end my life if you let me leave’, there’s not always a spot for them in the hospital. So they are often sent away, still feeling suicidal. Eventually, emergency services will be involved again. They will be taken to the hospital where they will not receive any further help; the cycle continues. ASIST presents an alternative, by means of empathetic conversation. What got you to thinking about suicide? And to listen, not problem solve, just hear their story. Many people don’t get the opportunity to be heard, but once they have it they feel this great relief.
Once they feel that relief, we ask what is it that you’re thinking about now? And they naturally begin to find their own reasons for wanting to live. From there, we discuss how to build a safe plan with them. In case those thoughts do return, we establish options to navigate them. The goal of an intervention is not to prevent all suicidal thoughts. It’s that if they do happen again, they’re going to come back for another intervention. They lived through it this time, so if the thoughts return, they’ll come back again for another one.
How did you initially get involved with the ASIST program?
I’m from Ontario and I started with the crisis centre in Niagara where they taught ASIST to all their volunteers. At the time, my partner struggled with her mental health and needed interventions so I stepped in and conducted quite a few with her. She continued to struggle with suicidal thoughts off and on over the span of four years. Some of our friends enrolled in ASIST training so that they could offer her support of their own. Unfortunately, she did end up taking her life, which was devastating.
But I believe if we didn’t have so many people around us that knew how to have a conversation with her about it, we would have lost her that first year. We got four extra years with her because we were able to use ASIST techniques with her.
After she passed, some of our friends believed she was selfish for acting on her emotions and frustrated for the trouble she caused. Of those friends, some began to find themselves contradicting their thoughts and having their own considerations of suicide. For me, this highlighted the fact that every time we did an intervention, we prevented the people close to us from having a reason to think about suicide. Interventions don’t just protect the individual. When you keep one person alive, you are also protecting the people and communities around them.
What drives you to continue working with the Crisis Centre of BC?
Hearing people come back and say, “Wow, I used this the very next day.” Validation that suicide happens and it’s best to be prepared for when it does.
People walk out and they say, “Thank you. I thought this was going to be the worst two days of my life and you made it fun.” I feel good leaving knowing that nobody’s walking out drained, exhausted, or bitter about attending. Instead, they find enjoyment in the process; when it’s over they’re talking to their friends, families, and colleagues spreading their enthusiasm about getting involved.
It’s not burdensome work, especially when you take good care of yourself. At the end of each day, we tell trainees their only homework is to set aside at least 10 minutes for self-care; to do something for yourself, something that just makes you feel good. This is also a chance to remind myself that prioritizing yourself is necessary to be an attentive and intentional caregiver.
What takeaway do you want everyone to absorb regarding suicide prevention?
Don’t be afraid to ask someone if they’re thinking about suicide. If you ever have any suspicion, any tinge in the back of your mind suggesting someone is having thoughts of suicide – even if for two seconds – you’re picking up on something. Ask the question. Even if the person says no, you’ve planted a seed. By addressing it, you’ve indicated that you are open to talking about it. You’ve let them know that if they ever find themselves thinking about suicide, they can come to you. Ask the question. Plant the seed.
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Crisis lines are available across British Columbia 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. If you or someone you know needs help, please call:
9-8-8 (call or text)
310-6789 (no area code needed)
1-800-SUICIDE / 1-800-784-2433
604-872-3311
If you are interested in learning suicide prevention skills, you can:
Talking about suicide can be incredibly difficult, but it’s one of the most important conversations we can have. The words we use matter: choosing the right language can help someone feel understood and supported, and is the first step in creating suicide-safer communities.
Many people may struggle with how to approach the topic, unsure of what to say or how to provide support without causing harm. Recognizing the right words not only helps reduce the stigma surrounding suicide but also shows people that their feelings are valid and worthy of support.
We’ve created a downloadable, free, easy-to-use Suicide-Safe Language Poster to guide you in talking about suicide with compassion and care. This resource is designed to help you know exactly what to say and what to avoid, whether you’re talking to a loved one, a friend, or someone you’re supporting in a professional capacity.
Why this Matters:
The language we use when discussing suicide can have a huge impact. According to research, talking to people about suicide in the context of care, respect, and prevention, does not increase their risk of suicidal ideation or suicidal behaviours and may in fact lower it. Research indicates that talking openly and responsibly about suicide lets someone know they do not have to be alone, that there are people who want to listen and who want to help. When we use the right language, we can help someone feel supported, connected, and show them that they are safe and will not be judged or stigmatized for sharing their feelings.
What’s on the Poster:
Practical tips on what to say and what to avoid are examples of supportive language that open up conversations and make people feel heard.
Simple, clear guidance anyone can follow, whether you’re a mental health professional, a family member, or a friend.
We encourage you to share this resource with your community to help spread understanding, compassion, and hope. Together, we can reduce the stigma around suicide and create a safer environment for everyone.
Educating youth in mental health helps them to become miniature educators themselves, Paul Vincent observes.
With a voice that resonates warmth and eyes that twinkle with energy, 55-year-old Paul embodies the spirit of a lifelong volunteer, seamlessly blending service into the rhythm of his life. As a kid, he performed puppet shows in a hospital when his close friend was being treated for cancer and has also volunteered in a women’s centre. He has been with the Crisis Centre since September 2023, and to date has conducted about twenty-five workshops in schools, about two to three times per month.
What initially drew you to volunteer with the Crisis Centre of BC, specifically as a Youth Educator?
I was involved in the Jeep community for over ten years, raising money for breast cancer research, including emceeing events, selling merchandise, and spreading good cheer overall. But I wanted to volunteer in a more personal and direct way. Having suffered from depression when I was young and having attempted suicide at age 29, I now understand that if I had had help during this period, my younger adult life would have been far less difficult. Searching online, I discovered that the Crisis Centre was looking for volunteers for adult and youth programs. I have a young heart and naturally resonate with young people, so I intuitively knew that the youth position would be perfect for me. A lot of emotional damage can occur before a youth reaches adulthood. The sooner we reach them, the more we can impact their emotional wellbeing.
How do you balance your volunteer activities with your day job?
I have a great job working the night shift in a transportation company yard and have a second part time job. I’m also a podcaster working with a close-knit team, and this too takes up a lot of my time. It was initially difficult to find a comfortable schedule, but Lana, our education coordinator, was highly accommodating and arranged my shifts for Mondays, when I have had a good night’s rest.
Have you been on the Crisis Centre phone lines yourself?
I would really like to do that, but unfortunately, I was unable to make it work with my work schedule. I did take the SafeTALK course, from which I learned how to identify persons with thoughts of suicide and connect them to support to help keep them safe. This course was necessary and has helped me in many ways.
What does a typical day look like for you as a youth educator and what are some of the key topics you cover?
We conduct workshops for classes of eighteen to thirty students and we are constrained to 40-to-90-minute blocks. Our coordinator arranges school timeslots, and we see one class at a time.
Self-Care for Mental Health is the workshop we offer for grades 6 through 12 students. The objective is to inform students that everyone experiences varying degrees of mental health issues, and that there is no shame in this. We do not yet discuss suicide in this workshop, and we keep the activities interactive to keep the students engaged. For example, the “weighed down” activity is effective for showing that worries can weigh us down, like a bag of heavy rocks. The physical weights are a metaphor for the emotional weights we carry, which may involve school, family, social life, sexuality, or even financial issues. The students are keen and smart, and themselves offer solutions, such as confiding in a friend or getting professional help. We are always mindful of our goal, which is to create an awareness of mental health, to remember that we all deal with it to varying degrees, and that we can adopt self-care habits to maintain our mental health.
It’s Okay Not To Be OK is the workshop we offer for grades 9 through 12. The objectives are to learn what a mental health crisis is, how to identify one in another person, and how to support that person, should the need arise. We discuss self- stigma, and how we can often be our own worst enemies. One of the most important pieces of information we deliver in our workshops is the existence of the 9-8-8 help line. It is Canada-wide and can connect the caller with immediate mental health services, in much the way that 911 operates.
How do you create a safe and open environment for youth?
Young people know genuine. They are looking for tools. As educators, we begin each workshop by sharing a story from our past when we have felt emotionally vulnerable. Students naturally trust us knowing that we are volunteers, and they sense that we speak from the heart. They know that we give these workshops because we want to, not because we have to, and this impacts them.
How can we empower young people to seek help and support when they need it?
I think, normalizing the existence of mental health issues, and getting rid of the stigma that comes with them is the number one thing.
Can you describe a moment when you realized the impact your work was having?
We don’t always see a visible impact at our workshops because our time with the students is brief. At one school, we were presented with a card the teens created and all signed, which felt great. What is most satisfying, though, is to know that when the students walk out of a workshop, we have turned each one into a miniature educator. They will have learned what a crisis is, how to recognize a crisis, how not to brush it off, and how to find help. This makes me feel that I have accomplished something important. This work has also impacted my personal life by giving me the ability to support others. Knowing about my involvement in this program, acquaintances have often sought my help, and I’ve been more than happy to give it. I’ve spent hours talking with them and have encouraged them to visit a counsellor for emotional support or treatment when necessary. All of this stems from having taken the SafeTALK course and becoming an educator.
What advice would you give to someone considering volunteering with the Crisis Centre?
I hope that people want to jump in and volunteer. It’s one of the most rewarding things you can ever do. It’s a tough time to be alive, but it doesn’t take much to be kind. Even the smallest thing can help somebody, and it’s ok not to be ok. Working on the crisis line is not for everyone. It depends on good mental health and state of mind. To help others, we must know how to help ourselves.
Paul reminds us that while helping others can be deeply rewarding, it requires compassion, awareness, and the ability to care for oneself. For those ready to take that step, it’s an opportunity to make a meaningful difference, one small act of care at a time.
For Individuals: Visit our training page, use promo code ‘15yearend‘ at checkout to pre-register for a course. Only applicable to Individual Standard Rates.
For Organizations: Please fill out this form and mention the promotion. Training sessions must be booked by March 31, 2025, and completed within 12 months, to qualify for the discount.
Whether you want to create a more supportive workplace, or level up your own skills and keep your community safe, the Crisis Centre has a training program for you. We offer a range of impactful training programs to help:
Destigmatize suicide and mental health: Foster open conversations and create a more inclusive environment
Strengthen intervention and de-escalation skills: Learn how to effectively respond to crises and support individuals in need
Facilitate resilience and hope: Equip your team with the tools to support each other and their community
Promote wellbeing: Develop skills and strategies to prevent stress, burnout, and compassion fatigue
Which training courses are included?
Skillfully Responding to Distress
Skillfully Responding to Distress is a half-day workshop that teaches participants how to respond to and de-escalate emotional distress for a person in crisis.
Who is Skillfully Responding to Distress for?
This training is most suitable for participants 15 years and older, who have little to no formal training in counselling or for those seeking a refresher. Typical attendees include professionals working in situations where they need to respond to challenging situations, including social service workers, medical assistants, insurance client representatives, youth workers, call centre staff, and administration.
safeTALK is a half-day in-person training that teaches participants how to identify persons with thoughts of suicide and connect them to support to help keep them safe.
Who is safeTALK for?
safeTALK is suitable for individuals 15 and older. It is ideal for all types of community members, including first responders, teachers, youth workers, housing support, faith communities, parents/families, and community members interested in learning how to respond to suicide.
“The world needs more opportunities to make suicide a safer, less taboo topic.” — safeTALK participant
ASIST is the world’s leading suicide intervention training and an empowering program that promotes a whole community response to suicide prevention.
In this 2-day in-person workshop, you will learn how to prevent suicide by recognizing signs, providing a skilled intervention, and developing a safety plan to keep someone safe. 98% of attendees highly recommend this training.
Who is ASIST for?
ASIST is suitable for individuals aged 16 and older. Common participants include counsellors, health care workers, first responders, faith leaders, youth workers, and immigrant and refugee settlement workers.
“This workshop was great. It made me feel prepared and also gave me a space to talk about suicide without shame/judgment which is really needed.” — ASIST participant
Our ImpactThe topic and word "suicide" is not so scary after taking a training from the Crisis Centre of BC. I'm grateful to have been here today, and am hopeful that I can help people in the future.safeTALK participant, Agassiz
