Jane's Story

Hello, My name is Jane Pritchard. I grew up in a family where my father was angry, silent, and abusive and my mother was having troubles with her own life. Her world was in her head and so she really neglected her kids.

As a result, I kept very quiet and out of the way so that no one would notice me. This meant that I didn't talk. I could say hello and how are you and answer yes or no, but I couldn't carry on a conversation. Because of this, I was very shy and lonely and depressed. I grew up that way and became an isolated adult.

I had no friends and no life outside of my job. I worked for a long time at the library, and the staff where I worked socialized with each other. They would go out to lunch together and go home together. I heard them making plans for activities in the evening and on the weekends. Every day I was painfully conscious that I could not participate in a normal life. At the end of the workday I would go home, lock the door, turn on the television until it was time for bed. My depression deepened to the point where I lost my ability to speak. I couldn't live this way any longer, couldn't bear the feeling and so I decided to kill myself.

I went to see a psychiatrist and thus began the long torturous journey through the mental health system.

After many years of repeated hospitalizations, two of them for over a year, I was referred to a community mental health agency where I found a therapist who worked with me in a different way. That therapy, coupled with medication, enabled me to leave the hospital for good.

At first, I went back home to live with my parents, but the dynamic had not changed. In fact, it had gotten worse. After two years, I was faced with the choice again – make a change or kill myself.

So I moved to a rent geared to income apartment with no supports attached. I still struggled with depression because I was all alone. Still alone, no one to talk to or help me.

A fellow survivor told me about LOFT, formerly Anglican Houses, a supportive housing agency where he lived. He encouraged me to fill out an application, which I did, not believing that I would really get an apartment.

To my surprise and delight, they had an apartment available; it seems it was just waiting for me!

I now have an apartment with a bedroom with a door that closes. I no longer have to sleep in my living room. For the first few months, I walked around the apartment thinking that this place is too good for me. I don't have the right to be here. However, I adapted to my wonderful surroundings and have found a support system and a family that enables me to live what I think of as a real life.

Now this is my life…