Dennis's Story

My name is Dennis Morency and I live in supportive housing provided by Mainstay Housing.

I grew up in Toronto. At the age of fourteen on the last day of Grade 9 classes at school, I took a tab of LSD. I got this from a pusher at my school and I decided to try it for fun. It was a scary and terrifying experience but I continued taking drugs because of peer pressure and also because after a smoke of marijuana, I felt really good. I was having a good time.

Three years later, I was walking down the street when I heard a voice that sounded like my sister telling me that my dad was in the mafia. From then on I believed my father was a gangster and involved with organized crime. However my father was actually a very hard working transit worker. The voices got worse and they began to take over my life and were very prominent in my mind. I would walk down the street ranting and raving at the voices. I started seeing objects. For example, I saw eyes and faces all over buildings, all over my room, everywhere. They talked to me. I also felt that I couldn't get along with my father and I left home.

I moved into a rooming house and got welfare. However I started spending all my money on drugs and drink. I was out of control and soon I was admitted to the Queen Street Mental Health Centre. Here they put me on anti-psychotic drugs and I stayed for three months.

When I got out of Queen Street, I discovered that I had lost my room. I left Toronto and hitchhiked all over Southern Ontario working as a farm-hand. I had no steady place to live and found shelter where I could. Sometimes I slept by the road. I was a real hobo! A drifter. I then decided to travel out to the West Coast and I worked when I could – here and there. The voices stayed with me but I managed. I was not taking any medication. I felt insecure, I had no place to hang my hat.

Once when I was cherry picking, I met a very pretty girl from Toronto. This gave me the impetus to come back to Toronto. But that lasted only a short time. I found I couldn't get along with people and because of my quarrelsome nature, neither my family nor friends would take me in. I was homeless again and I was not taking any medication. I began to scream and eventually my mother who had given me a place to stay in her basement, had a mental health nurse come and see me. The nurse readmitted me to Queen Street and with drugs, I was able to reduce the impact of the voices.

When I was discharged from Queen Street, I was given a room in a house run by Regeneration House. I stayed here for five years and during this time they helped me to live a fairly normal life. I learned to live with others and I took my medication regularly. During these five years, I was not admitted to the hospital.

I got restless and left my housing at Regeneration House to make some money picking tobacco. But I couldn't find work and I returned to Toronto. I was sick of taking medication and decided to stop taking my meds. Once again I was acting strange and I ended up back at Queen Street. Once I was back on medication, I calmed down and when I was discharged, I moved into a room at a co-op run by Supportive Housing Coalition. Here I lived with others and I had a worker who kept an eye on me to ensure I was taking my meds. I had one more relapse and that was 8 years ago.

Now I live in a bachelor apartment with Mainstay Housing. I love my apartment very much. I am very thankful to have it. I feel stable and feel I am no longer on the fringes of society. I am on the Board of Directors of Mainstay Housing and I serve on the Advisory Board for the Spectrum Clinic. I write poetry. I paint. I am now reconnected with my family and we finally get along just fine.

Supportive Housing has helped me incredibly. I still hear voices, every day all day – but my medication and my housing are stable and in control. I am now happy to speak out for more supportive housing for people with mental health problems. There are thousands on the street who are where I was. I hope they too will find a place to call home just as I did.