By Emily Stonehouse

When did things get so complicated?

This past week, through the Community Safety and Well-being plan, a group of dedicated individuals brought a report to County council, outlining the importance of the No Wrong Door approach.

Once used years ago, the initiative was developed to bypass the red tape of bureaucracy, and offer a helping hand to anyone in a state of crisis.

And as was outlined in the presentation, crisis doesn’t just mean sirens and breakdowns. It can refer to anyone whose coping mechanisms aren’t sufficient for the problem they are navigating.

And if that’s the definition, we’ve all been in a state of crisis before.

No Wrong Door was a concept that humanized the clinically developed approach to community support.

And I am not an expert on the sociological chapters of human history, but mental health seems to have gone from something that was seen as very taboo (closed door), to something that you spoke to your friends and neighbours about (open door), to an era of red tape and waitlists (wrong door), and finally, back to the beginning of the cycle (closed door).

No one is talking, because no one knows where to turn. We’ve done a full circle, causing individuals in crisis to fend for themselves in the shadows of their own demons.

No Wrong Door was introduced in an effort to allow anyone looking for support to open any door, and be met with a helping hand.

That hand would then connect to perhaps another hand, then another, creating a chain of compassion to carry those in crisis.

While I was listening to the presentation, all I could think about was how things are so complicated.

The organizers behind No Wrong Door are simply expressing empathy, noting that quite literally every individual is deserving of dignity, support, and resources, instead of a door slammed in their face; a redirection, a shove of responsibilities.

I felt this way when I worked for a local municipal township. When did things get so complicated? I asked myself that, every single day.

And while it’s been years since I’ve dabbled in local politics, one of the core reasons I left was because I felt my sense of compassion dimming. I started to look at situations and presentations through a lens marred by red tape. Dreams and aspirations brought to me by those who didn’t understand the cobwebs in our closets would be shut down before they could ever take off. Each project needed criteria, composition, complications.

And through that, we lost the compassion, the care, the community.

I’ve seen initiatives take off at municipal levels since my departure that has shown me that some of the red tape has been torn down, but I remain hopeful that the many rights and wrongs and zigs and zags can be further simplified for those in need.

Things don’t need to be complicated. I understand that there is a time and place for liability and logistics, but at the end of the day, no one should be told they’re at the wrong door. No one should be someone else’s problem, someone else’s project.

Because we’re all human.

And every door should be available, for whoever needs a helping hand.