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As the global pandemic creates new pressures at all levels of society, Edmonton’s Crisis Diversion teams are seeing the effects on our most vulnerable community members every day. “I’m seeing a lot more anger right now,” says Michele, a 24/7 Crisis Diversion worker with Boyle Street Community Services. “Something like this tends to bring out the worst in people a lot of the time. People with jobs are struggling and are angry, so you can imagine people who are struggling with mental health and addiction and such are going to struggle even more.” The 24/7 Crisis Diversion initiative dispatches crisis diversion teams around the clock, 365 days a year. They respond to people who are in distress and vulnerable on the streets of Edmonton. The teams offer a human-centred approach to Edmontonians in non-emergency distress.  “Sometimes you just reach out and say ‘you can do this’, and sometimes it pushes that person to search out that help they need,” says Michele.  Before joining the Boyle Street team, she spent 20 years in nursing in a variety of contexts, from ambulances in remote areas to local emergency rooms.   “It’s such a different environment,” she says, laughing. “It’s just so different. It’s awesome really, you meet quite the characters out there.”  Those years in nursing pay off daily in her present work. She can help her clients navigate the health system and has connections that make it a little easier to get people to the services they really need. “I have connections because I’ve worked in other agencies, so I know them, that’s a bonus. Not everyone can do that,” she says.  These connections allow her to take that extra step, make that phone call, and help get someone the help they need when they’re ready to receive it.  While the work she does is essential, Michelle says the day-to-day work of helping people move in a more positive direction is a multi-agency team effort. “I honestly I admire all the people that are on the ground working,” she says.  “I’ve seen so many amazing things from them.”  While the job involves more complexity than she may have initially expected, she’s happy to be out on the street every day, helping Edmonton’s most vulnerable. “When I first started, I thought: ‘I’m going to reach out and touch someone’s fingers and it was going be like angels singing’,” she laughs. “You want to change the world and you hope for that.” There are many challenges, which can be more intense than in other lines of work.  “There’s violence and abuse - and who ever gets used to that? - but there are those moments that touch you,” she says. “We’ve had a few people come back and say ‘Do you remember me? I ‘m doing so much better’.”  Michelle’s experiences are widely varied, from saving one client from overdose to talking another off a bridge. The only constant is the unpredictability of human behaviour. “So many people are so grateful for the help,” she says. “It’s kind of neat because you get to know people. You learn how to communicate so much better.” She finds the skills that are honed doing this complex work transfer seamlessly into daily life.  “It’s a really unique experience. I was at church one day and there was a homeless man in the corner on the grass and I noticed that people are afraid of him,” she says.  “I just walked right up to him, had a conversation and gave him some money for coffee.” The job has good days and bad days, but in the big picture, the work is always worth doing. “You can’t imagine. That little bit of kindness means so much, because everywhere they go it’s negative,” she says. “One kind act can change somebody’s life.” 24/7 Crisis Diversion is a collaborative partnership with Boyle Street Community Services, Canadian Mental Health Association (211 program), HOPE Mission, and REACH Edmonton. There are also stakeholders from Edmonton Police Service and Alberta Health Services Emergency Medical Services.

On Christmas Day, while many offices in Edmonton’s downtown are shut for the holidays, one unit on Jasper Avenue is the site of a unique family gathering.  OUTpost, a drop-in centre for vulnerable LGBTQ2S+ youth created by The Community Health Empowerment & Wellness (C.H.E.W) Project , opened in late 2019 and has already made its mark on many young lives.  “We started in a small tiny office,” says Corey Wyness, founder of OUTpost. “ Just providing services for youth and emerging adults mental health, addiction. poverty homelessness.” But just an office wasn’t enough to meet the needs of youth facing multiple barriers to essential services and resources. “They said: Corey we need something different. We need a place we can go,” Corey recalls.  Corey knew his office was too small to meet their needs. “So, I Sat them down and said: tell me what you want? If I had a magic wand. What would you ask for?” Their requests were simple, but essential. A place to play video games, to shower, to eat, to sleep. “I said, Ok we can do this.” After that, things started to fall into place.  “I was walking and there was a lease sign on Jasper Avenue that had been there a few years,” Corey recalls. “We didn’t have the money at that time,  but I said, ‘I‘m gonna check this out’.” “The landlord was amazing and dropped the rent in half for us. So I said, well, I’ll do GoFundMe campaign,” he says. “In three days we raised $40,000. It was pretty incredible the amount of support we got to do this, to give these people a place to call home and a family.” Beyond just a street family, OUTpost has created a family environment connected to the larger community.  “Edmontonians just rallied to bring us cookies and toilet paper and, especially during the start of Covid-19, people still kept giving,” says Corey.  “I’ve received hundreds of messages saying ‘wow, we didn’t know these kids were out there’.” “When we start telling that story, there’s a lot of power in that,” he says. “People started seeing these kids and that’s amazing.” As with many non-profits, funding is an ongoing concern.  “We are thriving, but the challenges are of course how do we get the money to stay open,” says Corey.  An essential part of serving these youth is ensuring they have a voice. OUTpost is their space.  “The main thing is the youth always have a say in the things that we do,” says Corey. “For once they have a voice in what goes on in their lives.” The space has been transformed from an office to a home.  “It really does look like you’re looking into someone’s living room,” Corey says. “There’s just a lot of really good things that cause hope and this population in particular didn’t have a lot of hope. It was so easy to do.” “We always look for the big things, but somewhere to sleep during the day, clean socks a shower. These are things we take for granted,” he says. “Part of our mission then is we have to provide that hope that people aren’t getting.” CHEW research shows that the barriers the youth are facing are often small but devastating.  “Only 40% have access to clean drinking water – a lot of time we think we can just go use the water fountain or washroom but often security won’t even let them in the mall,” he says.  Youth will often be denied a glass of water in a fast-food restaurant, because of the way they look.  At OUTpost, youth are treated as family members, with a right to be there, not guests.  “They can eat as much as they want, shower, do laundry, clean clothes. It’s just amazing how those little things turn into a big thing,” says Corey. “We’ve seen the most rugged youth smiling again, happy, thinking ‘maybe I’ll get off the street, back to school, get a job’.”  Once they have that stability, they start to hope for something beyond the chaos on the street,” he says. “We’re like a sanctuary.” Many of the youth OUTpost serves have been kicked out of their homes after coming out to their families, some as young as 12 years old.   “A lot of the youth call this place home,” says Corey. “One of the biggest challenges though is we still have to send the youth out at night because we’re not an overnight shelter. My hope is to expand that capacity.” Homophobia and transphobia plays a large role in this challenge. Most youth don’t feel safe checking into a regular shelter, Corey says,.  “They often do what they have to, to survive: steal, engage in survival sex, they just do what they can to survive, these are kids,” he says. “Queer and trans kids are just wandering around because they have nowhere to go. We shouldn’t have these kids sleeping outside. We have to do more.” While there are still gaps in overnight services, these youth now have a place to go, during the day, where they can be themselves and they have family. “It’s hard to put into words but when you come into space you just see what that hope can do,” Says Corey. “We cry a lot around here because there’s so many beautiful things.” Christmas Day is one of those days that highlights the importance of a family and a space to gather.  “At Christmas – everyone got presents with their names on them,” Corey says. “One fella opened his present and started getting teary, he had a teddy bear, he said ‘nobody in all my life has ever given me a teddy bear.’ It’s just those little things we can do so easily that will give that hope to them.” The OUTpost family celebrated its second Christmas together in 2020, with donated catered meals on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.  “We watched movies,” Corey says. “I’m like that dad that says ‘no you can’t touch your presents yet.’ I had to come in early to get the stockings ready, put more presents out. When they walk in they‘re like, holy crap, so excited.” Donated food and presents from the community made creating a family space for the day easier.  “It was pretty incredible for us to not have to find money to do that,” says Corey.  “We come together play games, hang out, try to give everyone a sense of belonging.” OUTpost is always grateful for any donations from the community.  “We’re so thankful. It can be anything, cookies, brownies, it can be that small,” he says.   “ It doesn’t always have to be about money. Paper towels, socks, jeans and t shirts. By all means we’ll take it. Gift cards are always a good thing too.” Covid caused some complications in 2020 – only 15 people, including staff, were allowed in at a time and social distancing was required. Some youth had to wait at the door until there was enough space for them  “But we made it through, says Corey. “Some stayed for a little and then left, but a core group about seven or eight stayed the whole day.”    The pandemic has put further stress on a population that was already exceptionally vulnerable.  “It was super stressful for everyone already, given that a lot of our youth have mental health issues and now you’re throwing in the pandemic, which for someone with schizophrenia or something like that, it’s really hard,” says Corey.  “We did see an increase in substance use and suicidal ideation. That was a big challenge for us. It has quieted down a little bit but for a while there, I was doing two to three suicide interventions a day. We did lose a few youth as well.” Corey knows that the work being done at OUTpost is changing lives.  “Not that long ago, a youth came in who was pretty rough and not doing well. In and out of jail. After he came through this door, his life turned around.” This young man returned to OUTpost for a visit recently, to say thank you.  “ He grabbed me and gave me a big hug and said ‘I would not be alive right now if it wasn’t for you, and you just being there for me’,” says Corey. “That’s a common story.” While the success stories are there, he still worries about the youth who aren’t getting what they need.  “It makes my heart sad. How many lives are we not touching and serving, who don’t even know about us,” he says.  “But I do know the ones that have walked through the door have found hope.”  OUTpost is located at 11725 Jasper Avenue. Financial donations can be received online here ( https://my.charitableimpact.com/groups/hundred-helping-hands?profileid=18554&sourceid=81353&type=groupprofile ) To arrange a drop-off of material donations, call (780) 665-5220.

Growing up, Sean spent a lot of time at the local RCMP detachment. “I was constantly in detachments talking with members, just hanging out,” he recalls.  “I was the boss’s son. He was one of the longest serving detachment commander in Alberta’s history: for 28 years he was in charge various detachments throughout Alberta and the Yukon.” “He was a lifelong police officer. Started when he was 20 and retired at 61,” says Sean. “My father retired after 41 years of service in the RCMP.”  From a young age he was drawn to the idea of serving the community and building community-wide connections.  At first, he followed in the family line literally, by joining the RCMP. During those years of service in High Level, he saw that the style of policing modeled by his father was incredibly difficult to replicate under modern conditions.  Sean recalls seeing his father spending every minute he wasn’t on a call actively building relationships with the community, from the grocery store to the coffee shop, always deepening connections with the people of High Level.  “That kind of always made me want to follow in his footsteps,” he says.  “But policing changes, and in those 40 years it’s changed an unbelievable amount. The style of policing he did and style of policing I was doing were very, very different things.”  The call-volume handled by police officers in the modern era makes finding time for one-on-one community outreach more difficult, as the number of calls for service continues to rise every year.  “One night I had 36 calls in 10 hours and charged 23 people,” he recalls from his time with the RCMP. “It’s reactive, you’re running from call to call.” But the community-outreach portion of policing still attracted him to the job.  “I loved going into the schools and talking to people,” he said.  “Using traffic stops to have friendly interactions, building the relationships.”  While serving as an constable, he was still drawn to all the non-enforcement work that was needed in the community.  “I felt a lot of the people in the community and on reserve didn’t need police help, they needed something else,” he said. “There was just a small shelter across the back alley from where I lived where we could drop people off to sleep, but that was essentially all the services that we could offer them.”  After a couple years with the RCMP, Sean decided to move to Edmonton to study sociology, which eventually led him to social work. After starting out working with high-risk youth, he joined 24/7 Crisis Diversion with Boyle Street Community Services in 2019. The 24/7 Crisis Diversion initiative dispatches crisis diversion teams around the clock, 365 days a year. They respond to people who are in distress and vulnerable on the streets of Edmonton. Sean’s day-to-day is now filled entirely with proactive community outreach, not entirely unlike what he saw modelled in his childhood when his father was in between calls.    “Generally, we show up to work and drive around the downtown area, the central hub where we know there’s a lot of comm members,” he says. “We look for anybody in trouble, sleeping outside, or not looking good and we try to make contact with them.” If they don’t receive a call for service or see someone who may need some help in the first hour, they’ll pick a location to wait for calls. “We’ll wait till we get a call, then rinse and repeat,” he says. “We try to pick a central location so we’ll have the shortest response time to the calls.”  Waiting around for calls isn’t a situation they find themselves in too often though, as the service is heavily relied upon by the community as well as local emergency services.  The 24/7 Crisis Diversion teams respond to more than 20,000 calls for service every year, many of which come directly from police dispatch, freeing up members to attend to emergency calls where police are needed.  “The gap I saw in High Level, Crisis Diversion fills that gap in Edmonton and fills that void,” says Sean. “They’re not breaking any laws, they plain and simple need help. It could be they need someone to talk to or a ride four blocks. It may not seem like much, but just the gesture is so meaningful.” When asked how he handles such a difficult job, he says it’s all in how you approach the work.  “Most of the time I get asked: How do you do it? It sounds really scary and dangerous. But it’s only as scary as you make it,” he says.  “You’re dealing with people, and a lot of the people are good people deep down. They might be having a bad day, calling you names right now, but tomorrow they’ll be having a better day.” At the end of the day, Sean is happy to be working in the community in a person-to-person way, helping the community, building relationships, and doing the work he has always been drawn to. “It’s super important to have something like Crisis Diversion,” he says.  “It’s too bad a program like this is only in larger cities, because there are so many towns in Canada that could use a service like this.” 24/7 Crisis Diversion is a collaborative partnership with Boyle Street Community Services, Canadian Mental Health Association (211 program), HOPE Mission, and REACH Edmonton. There are also stakeholders from Edmonton Police Service and Alberta Health Services Emergency Medical Services.