A conversation with Ryan McPhail, Peer Support Counsellor, CMHA SC
Ryan McPhail was still in high school and working installing pools when he noticed the rest of the crew, all adults, used something to cope with the pain that came with a lot of heavy lifting – opioids. None of them suggested he take them too, but even unintended peer pressure has its consequences, especially for a teenager who had no clue about that drug or its addictive properties. “I had no idea about opioids,” McPhail recalls. “After two weeks I couldn’t function without them.”
His addiction began in 2011 and continued for five years. “My whole life revolved around these drugs. How will I get them? What if my dealer doesn’t have them?” he said. McPhail hid his addiction from those closest to him. “My family had no idea what was going on.” But his secret was over when in 2016 he sold drugs to others uses substances and five people collapsed; he later pleaded guilty to trafficking and criminal negligence causing bodily harm.
While substance use clouds judgment, McPhail says he chose to accept responsibility for his poor choices and then used the consequences to motivate himself to change, first for himself, then for others. It was CMHA and its staff who encouraged him to speak about his experience so others could learn. “One reason I do this is so other people don’t have to hit rock bottom,” he said. “(CMHA) saw something in me that I didn’t see in myself.”
In 2018, CMHA invited him to speak at a conference and gala. That experience was so rewarding, a milestone in his recovery, that he became a peer support worker, joining in February 2020 and facilitating group sessions in March just as the pandemic struck. Soon, he was running his own peer support group – but virtually, a shift that all peer support workers made so they could continue providing a needed service in a way that protected clients from COVID-19.
His group was as open and curious as he is, with McPhail drawing in lessons from a wide range of people with lived experience, including someone who operates indigenous learning circles. More recently, he added a second virtual group, this one only for men, who seemed more comfortable disclosing their experiences and vulnerabilities, and to share advice, without women. Other groups were created to cater to people who were seeking advice about treatment, he said.
While some miss the face-to-face contact, McPhail is certain the virtual platform has opened the door to peer support to far more people who either wouldn’t come to a physical setting because sessions in Barrie were too far away, or because they were not ready yet to share their experiences. At virtual meetings, participants can choose to be visible or to simply watch others, that latter option allowing them to ease into the group at whatever pace felt comfortable. The same pandemic that has created physical barriers opened the door to more virtual connections.
“Even after the pandemic is over we need to keep these virtual sessions going,” McPhail said. “I feel I have been able to help and support so many individuals.” His work with CMHA started with virtual peer support but did not end there; he also works with the David Busby Centre and its outreach teams in mobile vans to provide help to those who are less likely to seek it out. “I can be living proof that if you reach out, you can change,” he said.
He’s one of the many peer support workers who have stepped up as CMHA leadership sought funding to grow their work, an effort that was critical during the pandemic, said Hayley Peek, a peer support specialist who was brought in as a consultant to help in that effort. “It’s huge,” she said of the impact of peer workers. “We can relate and empathize and not judge.”