The Pathogen of Perception: Quantifying the Multi-Dimensional Cost of Medical Misinformation

by Jason Wang for The 44 North

Winner of our Inaugural Essay Contest

A doctor crossing their arms in front of a purple background with cartoon vaccine syringes. Their face is covered by anti-vaccination social media posts.

"The cost of misinformation shows up in obituaries and hospital bills. The value of a scientifically literate society shows up in the deaths that never happen and the crises we prevent before they spiral. My grandmother is alive today because accurate information eventually reached her through the noise. How many others could we save if we made sure it reached them first?"

In the Canadian Armed Forces, we're taught that the most dangerous threat is often the one that remains hidden. Today, that danger is no longer confined to a physical battlefield; it has taken root in the digital spread of medical misinformation.

As a Grade 12 student aspiring for a future in neurosurgery, I see misinformation not merely as a social ill, but as a clinical hazard. It behaves less like an abstract idea and more like a pathogen, producing tangible harms that strain public health systems, burden the economy, and undermine collective safety. During the peak of the COVID-19 pandemic, my own grandmother—a woman who survived the 2003 SARS outbreak in China and understood the visceral reality of respiratory illness—found herself paralyzed by skepticism. Despite her lived history, the sheer volume of digital misinformation regarding vaccine safety led her to abhor the very medical breakthrough designed to protect her.

It was only through exhaustive persuasion and the presentation of rigorous clinical data that she begrudgingly consented to immunization. Her hesitation was not born of ignorance, but of a systemic failure in information integrity. It was through this experience that I realized medical misinformation acts as an informational pathogen that imposes a tripartite cost: biological, economic, and societal, ultimately illustrating that the erosion of scientific literacy is a tangible threat to human life and the stability of the healthcare system.

Misinformation is not a victimless exchange of ideas; it has a direct, pathological impact on human physiology. During the COVID-19 pandemic, researchers attempted to quantify the death toll attributable to vaccine refusal. A 2022 study published in The Lancet estimated that COVID-19 vaccination prevented approximately 14.4 million deaths globally in the first year of availability (Watson et al., 2022). Working backward from that figure, the Kaiser Family Foundation calculated that between June 2021 and March 2022, at least 234,000 COVID-19 deaths in the United States could have been prevented if unvaccinated individuals had received the vaccine (Amin et al., 2022). These were not deaths caused by vaccine scarcity, logistical failures, or overwhelmed hospitals. Medical intervention existed and was available. What failed was the transmission of accurate information to the populations who needed it most.

The pathway from misinformation to mortality operates through two distinct but interconnected mechanisms. At the individual level, false beliefs about vaccine safety leave people vulnerable to severe disease outcomes. COVID-19 disproportionately threatens specific populations: the elderly, individuals with underlying conditions like diabetes or cardiovascular disease, and the immunocompromised. When a 70-year-old diabetic encounters claims that "natural immunity is superior" or that vaccines alter DNA, they're being steered toward a preventable death. The data from 2021 is unambiguous: unvaccinated individuals died and were at higher risk of infection from COVID-19 at rates 13.9 and 53.2 times higher than their vaccinated counterparts, respectively (Johnson et al., 2022). That mortality gap represents actual bodies, not abstract risk calculations.

At the population level, vaccine hesitancy degrades what epidemiologists term “herd immunity, the phenomenon where high vaccination coverage protects even those who cannot be vaccinated by suppressing overall transmission. Herd immunity requires crossing specific thresholds: for measles, approximately 95% of the population must be immune to prevent sustained outbreaks (Osman et al., 2022). When misinformation depresses vaccination rates below these critical levels, diseases that had been eliminated for decades resurface.

Canada's experience is instructive. Between 2019 and 2023, routine childhood vaccination coverage dropped from 90% to 82% (Jacobsen, 2025). In November 2025, Canada lost its measles elimination status after 27 years. Canada recorded over 5,100 cases in a single year (Soucheray, 2025). Two infants died after contracting the virus in utero, before they could be vaccinated. The virus had not mutated into a more dangerous form. The vaccine had not failed. The only variable that changed was information integrity. The cruelty of this dynamic lies in its distribution of harm. The individuals who bear the biological cost are often not the ones who rejected the medical intervention. The infants who died in Canada's measles outbreak made no decisions about vaccine safety. The immunocompromised cancer patient who contracts COVID-19 from an unvaccinated colleague did not choose vulnerability. The child who develops measles because their parents believed discredited claims about vaccine-induced autism did not consent to that infection. When misinformation convinces one person to refuse vaccination, the biological consequences radiate outward, creating community-wide vulnerabilities that extend far beyond individual choice.

Beyond direct biological harm, misinformation creates a preventable fiscal crisis for healthcare systems built on the principle of prevention. The economic logic of vaccination is straightforward: a small upfront cost prevents far larger expenses later.

During the COVID-19 pandemic, this logic played out in real time. Between June and November 2021, hospitalizations of unvaccinated adults cost the U.S. healthcare system approximately $13.8 billion, according to research by the Peterson Center on Healthcare and the Kaiser Family Foundation (Farrenkopf, 2022). That figure represents just five months in a single country. The vaccines were free to patients. The hospital stays were not. ICU beds, ventilators, weeks of round-the-clock nursing care, and post-discharge rehabilitation drove costs that dwarfed what prevention would have required. Each COVID-19 hospitalization in Canada averaged roughly $20,000 for non-ICU care and exceeded $50,000 for ICU treatment, according to CIHI (CBC News, 2021). Across hundreds of thousands of largely preventable hospitalizations, the resulting economic waste becomes staggering. The Commonwealth Fund estimated that COVID-19 vaccination prevented approximately $900 billion in U.S. healthcare costs during the first year of vaccine availability alone (Schneider et al., 2022).

The opportunity cost of this spending is as important as the headline numbers. The National Cancer Institute operates on an annual budget of about $6.9 billion. The $13.8 billion spent on preventable COVID hospitalizations in five months could have funded nearly two years of cancer research. It could have paid the annual salaries of roughly 138,000 nurses or purchased more than 2,700 MRI machines, substantially reducing diagnostic delays. Instead, those resources were consumed treating a disease for which effective, free prevention already existed.

Canada experienced a similar dynamic. Fraser Institute estimated that the Canadian government spent approximately $359.7 billion responding to COVID-19, with an estimated 25% (89.9 billion) wasted (Fuss, Hill, 2023). While not all of that spending was avoidable, vaccine hesitancy accounted for billions that could otherwise have modernized hospital infrastructure, expanded mental-health services, or reduced surgical backlogs that left tens of thousands of Canadians waiting in pain.

Outbreak response costs further expose the inefficiency created by misinformation. When vaccine-preventable diseases resurge, public health systems must mobilize extensive emergency operations: contact tracing, laboratory testing, isolation protocols, and redeployment of clinical staff. Contact tracing a single measles case can cost between $10,000 and $50,000 (Hyle et al., 2018). A 2018–2019 measles outbreak in New York involving 649 cases cost the city approximately $8.4 million in emergency response alone (about $12,900 per case), excluding hospital treatment (Zucker et al., 2020). By comparison, the two-dose MMR vaccine costs roughly $100 (Antoneshyn, 2025). These are not abstract inefficiencies; they are real budget line items and real staff hours diverted from other priorities.

As immunologist Dawn Bowdish has noted, cuts to public-health funding, the lack of a national vaccine registry, physician shortages, and widespread misinformation reinforce one another. Budget cuts weaken the infrastructure needed to counter misinformation. Misinformation lowers vaccination rates. Outbreaks then consume far more funding than the original cuts saved. This reveals something fundamental about how healthcare systems function. Canada’s universal healthcare model rests on an implicit social contract: individuals accept evidence-based prevention, and the system provides care when prevention fails. Misinformation breaks that contract. An unvaccinated patient occupying an ICU bed with preventable disease displaces care for heart-attack victims, trauma patients, or people awaiting surgery. The burden extends beyond money to system-wide constraints: staff burnout, delayed procedures, and overcrowded emergency rooms. Misinformation does not merely waste resources; it degrades the basic capacity of healthcare systems to function.

The biological and economic costs of misinformation ultimately converge in a third dimension: the breakdown of collective capacity to respond to shared threats. As a member of the Canadian Armed Forces Reserves, I have been trained to recognize that mission success depends on accurate intelligence. When field units receive false information about enemy positions or terrain conditions, operations fail, and soldiers die. Public health operates under the same constraint.

Populations cannot mount effective responses to disease outbreaks if they cannot agree on how diseases spread or whether medical interventions work. This is not merely a problem of political disagreement. It represents a fundamental breakdown in the social infrastructure required for coordinated action during crises.

The erosion is measurable. Research by Obohwemu et al. found that lack of confidence, complacency, constraints, calculation, and collective responsibility have all been highlighted as barriers to vaccination uptake among parents to different degrees (Obohwemu et al., 2022). The effect persisted months after exposure, suggesting that misinformation creates lasting changes in trust rather than temporary confusion.

A 2021 study by Loomba et al. published in Nature examined the impact of misinformation on COVID-19 vaccine acceptance across 5,000 participants in the United Kingdom. Participants exposed to anti-vaccine misinformation showed a 6.2 percentage point decrease in willingness to receive a COVID-19 vaccine, and exposure to misinformation emphasizing vaccine side effects reduced stated vaccine acceptance by 6.4 percentage points (Loomba et al., 2021). The effects were largest among individuals who were initially unsure about vaccination, demonstrating how misinformation specifically targets and exploits uncertainty.

The consequences extend beyond immediate health decisions. During February 2022, protests opposing COVID-19 vaccine mandates blocked downtown Ottawa for three weeks, disrupted international trade at border crossings, and required the invocation of the Emergencies Act for the first time since its creation in 1988 (Government of Canada, 2022). The protesters' core belief, that vaccine requirements represented government overreach rather than public health necessity, had been cultivated by years of online misinformation about vaccine safety and efficacy.

Regardless of one's position on specific policy choices, the event demonstrated a critical failure: a substantial portion of the population had become unreachable by conventional public health communication. They were not evaluating evidence about transmission dynamics or hospital capacity. They were operating within a constructed narrative where vaccination itself was the threat. This matters because complex modern societies require institutional trust to function. Climate adaptation, pandemic preparedness, food safety regulation, and infrastructure maintenance all depend on public willingness to defer to technical expertise on questions beyond individual competence. When misinformation convinces populations that expert consensus is either fraudulent or politically motivated, that deference collapses. The immediate result may be preventable deaths during a pandemic. The long-term result is a society that has lost the ability to protect itself from foreseeable dangers.

Misinformation does not merely kill people in the present. It disables the mechanisms societies need to prevent future deaths.

My grandmother eventually got her COVID-19 vaccination, but it took weeks of persuasion and countless conversations before she trusted the science over what she had read online. Millions of others never made it to that point. The 234,000 preventable deaths in the United States, the return of measles in Canada after 27 years of elimination, the billions spent treating diseases we already knew how to prevent—these numbers tell a straightforward story about what happens when people cannot tell truth from fiction. Misinformation kills people, drains resources that could save other lives, and breaks down our ability to respond when the next crisis arrives. But the same networks that carry lies can also carry truth when people know how to recognize the difference.

The answer is not censorship. It is teaching people how to think critically about health information, the same way we teach them to read or do algebra. My generation has grown up watching misinformation kill people we know. We understand how it spreads because we have seen it happen in real time. That experience can become our greatest defense if we treat scientific literacy as essential to navigating modern life safely. The cost of misinformation shows up in obituaries and hospital bills. The value of a scientifically literate society shows up in the deaths that never happen and the crises we prevent before they spiral.

My grandmother is alive today because accurate information eventually reached her through the noise. How many others could we save if we made sure it reached them first?

---

About the Author

Jason Wang is a Grade 12 Senior student at St. Peter’s Catholic Secondary School in Peterborough, Ontario. He currently works as a lifeguard, swim instructor, piano teacher and recently, an Army reservist. He wishes to pursue a career in medicine and neuroscience/neurosurgery in the future. He is also the creator of “The Axonora Initiative,” a recent YouTube channel focusing on tackling misinformation.”

Connect with Jason on personal Instagram: @jimjamwong08 or through The Axonora Initiative @axonorainitiative

---

References

• Amin, K., Ortaliza, J., Cox, C., Michaud, J., & Kates, J. (2022, April 21). COVID-19 preventable mortality. KFF. https://www.kff.org/covid-19/covid-19-continues-to-be-a-leading-cause-of-death-in-the-u-s/

• Antoneshyn, A. (2025, October 23). Free vaccines cheaper than consequences of low vaccination rate: Alberta Medical Association. CTVNews. https://www.ctvnews.ca/edmonton/article/free-vaccines-cheaper-than-consequences-of-low-vaccination-rate-alberta-medical-association/

• Average cost for COVID-19 ICU patients estimated at more than $50,000: report. (2021, September 9). CBC News. https://www.cbc.ca/news/health/cihi-covid19-canada-hospitalcost-1.6168531

• Fuss, J., & Hill, T. (2023, June 27). Fiscal waste during the pandemic in Canada and the United States. Fraser Institute. https://www.fraserinstitute.org/studies/fiscal-waste-during-pandemic-canada-and-united-states

• Government of Canada. (2022, February 18). February 14, 2022, declaration of public order emergency. Justice.Gc.Ca. https://www.justice.gc.ca/eng/csj-sjc/section58.html

• Hyle, E. P., Fields, N. F., Fiebelkorn, A. P., Walker, A. T., Gastañaduy, P., Rao, S. R., Ryan, E. T., LaRocque, R. C., & Walensky, R. P. (2019). The clinical impact and cost-effectiveness of measles-mumps-rubella vaccination to prevent measles importations among international travelers from the United States. Clinical Infectious Diseases, 69(2), 306–315. https://doi.org/10.1093/cid/ciy861

• Jacobsen, K. H. (2025). Canada loses its official “measles-free” status. Gavi.org. https://www.gavi.org/vaccineswork/canada-loses-its-official-measles-free-status

• Johnson, A. G., Amin, A. B., Ali, A. R., Hoots, B., Cadwell, B. L., Arora, S., Avoundjian, T., Awofeso, A. O., Barnes, J., Bayoumi, N. S., Busen, K., Chang, C., Cima, M., Crockett, M., Cronquist, A., Davidson, S., Davis, E., Delgadillo, J., Dorabawila, V., … Scobie, H.M. (2022). COVID-19 incidence and death rates among unvaccinated and fully vaccinated adults with and without booster doses during periods of Delta and Omicron variant emergence—25 U.S. jurisdictions, April 4–December 25, 2021. MMWR. Morbidity and Mortality Weekly Report, 71(4), 132–138. https://doi.org/10.15585/mmwr.mm7104e2

• Loomba, S., de Figueiredo, A., Piatek, S. J., de Graaf, K., & Larson, H. J. (2021). Measuring the impact of COVID-19 vaccine misinformation on vaccination intent in the UK and USA. Nature Human Behaviour, 5(3), 337–348. https://doi.org/10.1038/s41562-021-01056-1

• Obohwemu, K., Christie-de Jong, F., & Ling, J. (2022). Parental childhood vaccine hesitancy and predicting uptake of vaccinations: A systematic review. Primary Health Care Research & Development, 23, e68. https://doi.org/10.1017/S1463423622000512

• Osman, S., Crowcroft, N., McLachlan, E., Hatchette, T., Perez-Iratxeta, C., Joh, E., Wright, J., Halperin, S. A., Deeks, S., Wilson, S., Buchan, S., Ward, B., Gubbay, J., Brisson, M., Serhir, B., Severini, A., & Bolotin, S. (2022). Population immunity to measles in Canada using Canadian Health Measures survey data—A Canadian Immunization Research Network (CIRN) study. Vaccine, 40(23), 3228–3235. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.vaccine.2022.04.011

• Schneider, E. C., Shah, A., Sah, P., Vilches, T., Pandey, A., Moghadas, S. M., & Galvani, A. P (2022, April 8). Impact of U.S. COVID-19 vaccination efforts: An update on averted deaths, hospitalizations, and health care costs through March 2022. Commonwealth Fund. https://www.commonwealthfund.org/blog/2022/impact-us-covid-19-vaccinationeffortsmarch-update

• Soucheray, S. M. A. (2025, November 10). Canada loses measles elimination status after record year of outbreaks. CIDRAP. https://www.cidrap.umn.edu/measles/canada-loses-measles-elimination-status-after-record-year-outbreaks

• Watson, O. J., Barnsley, G., Toor, J., Hogan, A. B., Winskill, P., & Ghani, A. C. (2022). Global impact of the first year of COVID-19 vaccination: A mathematical modelling study. The Lancet Infectious Diseases, 22(9), 1293–1302. https://doi.org/10.1016/S1473-3099(22)00320-6

• Zucker, J. R., Rosen, J. B., Iwamoto, M., Arciuolo, R. J., Langdon-Embry, M., Vora, N. M., Rakeman, J. L., Isaac, B. M., Jean, A., Asfaw, M., Hawkins, S. C., Merrill, T. G., Kennelly, M. O., Maldin Morgenthau, B., Daskalakis, D. C., & Barbot, O. (2020). Consequences of undervaccination—measles outbreak, New York City, 2018–2019. The New England Journal of Medicine, 382(11), 1009–1017.https://doi.org/10.1056/NEJMoa1912514

The Future of Mental Health is Digital—and it's Here

By Nicky White for The 44 North

Congress Communications Lead at eMHIC

Photo: Alisa Simon shares insights from Kids Help Phone, Canada's only 24/7, free, multilingual digital mental health solution for young people, at eMHIC24.

Mental health struggles hit close to home for all of us. Whether it’s dealing with anxiety before a big exam, supporting a friend through a tough time, or just trying to keep your head

above water, we all know how hard it can be to access the right help when we need it. But what if mental health care were as easy to access as your favourite playlist? That’s the vision of

the eMental Health International Collaborative (eMHIC)—a global organization committed to making sure that anyone, anywhere, can get the mental health support they need.

Why Digital Mental Health Matters 

Traditional mental health services are overwhelmed. Long waitlists, expensive therapy, and complicated systems mean that millions of people aren’t getting the care they need. eMHIC is tackling this head-on by making digital mental health solutions available 24/7. Imagine having access to AI-driven mental health check-ins, crisis helplines you can text, peer support communities, and apps designed to help you track your well-being—all at your fingertips.  As eMHIC’s Executive Director, Professor Anil Thapliyal, puts it: “We must focus on the service user, their families, and caregivers. If it does not work for them, it does not work at

all.” That’s why eMHIC ensures that digital mental health solutions aren’t just available but are practical, effective, and tailored to people’s real needs.

Building a Better System for Everyone 

The global mental health crisis is more than a challenge—it’s an opportunity to innovate, collaborate, and create a system that works for everyone. eMHIC is at the forefront of this movement, helping countries build digital-first mental health care systems that are sustainable and scalable.

• Develop digital mental health policies and standards.

• Ensure individuals with lived experience have a say in shaping solutions.

• Train mental health professionals to use digital tools effectively.

• Integrate cutting-edge research into real-world applications.

• Work with industry leaders to drive innovation in mental health tech.

The goal? To create a future where mental health support is instant, inclusive, and accessible to everyone—no exceptions. 

Spreading Knowledge, Driving Change 

eMHIC is making sure that mental health care evolves with technology. Here’s how they’re keeping the world informed and connected:

• Knowledge Bank: A one-stop hub for news, case studies, digital tools, and expert insights on the latest in digital mental health.

• Webinars: Virtual events featuring top experts, from researchers and clinicians to government officials and people with lived experience.

• Newsletters: Monthly updates packed with must-know advancements in digital mental health.

• eMHIC Congress: A global gathering where leaders, innovators, and policymakers team up to push the boundaries of mental health care.

​Amplifying Diverse Voices for Change 

Storytelling is a powerful force for social change, and eMHIC is committed to amplifying diverse voices to inspire innovative mental health solutions. Hailey Hechtman, Executive Director at Unsinkable, highlights the impact of this global collaboration:  “We have so appreciated our partnership with eMHIC. They have provided us with a space to connect with mental health professionals and those with living expertise across the globe, encouraging storytelling as a medium for social and systems change and by recognizing the importance of amplifying diverse voices to help generate new and innovative solutions.”

By fostering these global conversations, eMHIC drives real-world change and ensures that mental health care is shaped by those who understand it best—those with lived experience.  

Mental Health for All: No One Left Behind  

Mental health struggles don’t discriminate. From young people navigating school and relationships to older adults facing isolation, everyone deserves support. That’s why eMHIC is pushing for mental health solutions that are adaptable, inclusive, and designed for real people in real situations.

The rapid rise of digital technology means new possibilities—AI-driven mental health assessments, telehealth therapy sessions, peer support platforms, and more. However, these tools must be designed with cultural awareness and accessibility in mind. eMHIC ensures that digital mental health solutions meet the needs of diverse communities, leaving no one behind. 

Join the Digital Mental Health Movement 

If you care about mental health—your own, your friends’, or your community’s—now is the time to get involved. eMHIC isn’t just for policymakers and doctors; it’s for everyone who wants mental health support to become as accessible as social media.

Want to learn more? Check out eMHIC’s work, join their webinars, and join the movement

changing how mental health care works.​ 

The conversation doesn’t stop here. eMHIC25, the 10th Digital Mental Health Global Congress, is bringing together world leaders, innovators, and change-makers to discuss ‘Global Mental Health Equity: Digital Solutions for an Interconnected World.’ This event is where real-world impact happens, and you can be part of it—in person or virtually. 

Mental health care is evolving. It’s becoming more accessible, more inclusive, and more effective. The question is—will you be part of shaping the future?

To learn more about how you can be part of eMHIC25, visit the official event site here. 

Learn more about eMHIC here.

5 Lessons to Take Into 2025

By Abbigale Kernya for The 44 North

Managing Editor

A woman with a sparkler celebrating the new year at a party.

1. You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink. 

This has been my motto lately. I’m sure my friends are sick of hearing about it, and I admit saying it out loud repeatedly makes me feel about thirty years older than I actually am, but it’s true. 

2024 was an epic learning curve for me in so many ways. Mental health, specifically, I had a friend who was really struggling and spiralling with her mental health, and I found myself sort of at a loss as to what to do. I didn’t know how to help her because everything I tried seemed to fall on deaf ears. It’s a very difficult thing to navigate when you empathize with how difficult living in a loved one’s brain must be, and all you want to do is help them get better. In my case, offering a safe and judgment-free zone didn’t go as far as I had hoped. The topic of medication was a hostile one, and I was met with anger and breakdowns whenever I offered to help find a therapist. 

I’m not going to lie, it was a really hard time for both of us. I loved this person like a sister, but I had to accept the fact that I couldn’t help her in the way she needed. Mental illness is an extremely complicated and heartbreaking condition of life, and it took me a long time and many long nights trying to reason and help support my friend, whom I couldn’t help get out of the self-destructive cycle she was in, to realize my defeat. 

It got to a point where my mental health was suffering a lot, and I didn’t want to be home and was falling behind on my schoolwork and work because I was just so drained. It broke my heart a little bit to realize any friendship we had was somewhere buried deep under the stress and anxiety of trying not to set her off.

I don’t want to pretend to understand what was going through my friend’s mind for the months I tried to help her, but I know it was unimaginable to someone who doesn’t struggle with severe mental health. Empathizing with her can only get you so far before the realization finally hits: you cannot be everyone’s saviour. 

After months of a broken friendship and a very uncomfortable living situation, it finally dawned on me that I could not be the person my friend needed. I could not fix all her problems without breaking myself apart. No matter how much I offered to help, you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to help themselves. 

Looking back in hindsight on these situations, the best thing I could have done was to tell other people in her support system about how much she was struggling, so her people could rally around her, so that I could start to put myself back together. 

You know, the whole metaphor of putting on your oxygen mask first? 2025 is also the year of metaphors, apparently. 

2. Slow the F down.

At one point in your life, you wished you were exactly where you are now. I know it’s cliche to preach about living in the moment, and it has sort of fallen down the cultural post-ironic rabbit hole of self-help pyramid schemes, but I hate to admit that it’s true. 

I’ve written about being in my last year of university ad nauseam and the stress and confusion that comes along with finishing your degree, but now at the tail end of my journey, I’m struggling to not wish away the time faster. My four years at university have led me through the best of times and the worst of times. I’ve experienced crippling loneliness and academic panic attacks, to finding a community of the most amazing people working at my school's newspaper. It’s been four years of sacrifice and constant lessons learned. At this point, I have my master's in burnout and PHD in “thuggin' it out.” 

And yet, four years ago, all I wanted was an independent life where I was in control of my own destiny. Writing here today, I’ve got to live a hundred different lives from then to now, and I’ve achieved everything I’ve wanted and then some.

But I am still wishing this chapter away so that I can start my next one. The lust for life has finally returned to me as winter prepares for its grand exit, and I’m thankful for the opportunity to appreciate the hard work I have done these past years to find myself in a place where the future is exciting and full of hope. 

A future that will be here before I know it, and a future that will have me missing this moment right now. Time drags us all forward whether we like it or not, so this year I am learning not to help it take me faster.  

3. Some of the biggest mistakes are the best blessings.

Man, I cannot preach enough about how the things that I once wanted in life but “failed” to achieve turned out to be the best thing that has ever happened to me.

An example I’ve also talked about repeatedly in this magazine is my decision to turn down a study abroad opportunity to pursue a job that would ultimately boost my resume in the long run. I grappled a lot with this huge change of plans, and even though I loved my job and all the friends I’ve made along the way, I still felt like a failure. That somehow, my 17-year-old self applying to Trent University solely because of their study abroad program would be utterly disappointed in the choices that I have made. However, because I was brave enough to challenge what I thought was my right path in life and open myself up to other opportunities, I found myself at the centre of a beautiful life of my creation.

The same goes for relationships. I remember spending so much wasted time stressing over boys and picking myself apart when things wouldn't end the way I had hoped. I thought I was a failure, and I thought every failed relationship was somehow a reflection of my self-worth. 

Now, looking back, I can’t thank the stars enough that my past flings ended. There isn’t enough money in the world to pay me to go back to that place, both mentally and physically all in the hopes of some shred of male validation. Every failed relationship eventually led me to a place of self-love and self-worth that opened me up to the possibility of a real, genuine relationship both with myself and my partner.  

4. Exercise is a good thing, actually.

Growing up I was in almost any and every sport you can imagine. Physical activity was ingrained in me from a very young age to be the most important part of life. It took me years of self-deprecating thoughts that came with competitive sports and a flirtation with an eating disorder to allow myself to step back from the anxiety and pressure to be the best my body would allow, and finally rest. 

The mental health struggles that come with athleticism didn’t just go away when I magically stepped back, but rather manifested into teenage angst and horrible body image that I still struggle with from time to time. One lesson that I have learned in my twenties is that I sort of do like moving my body, actually. Who would have thought!

I’ve learned through trying different workout routines and always having to stop because it turns obsessive very quickly, that exercise, when it is done to reach a goal, doesn't work in my brain. Rather, exercise works for me when it is done to appreciate and take care of the body I am so lucky to call home. It took me a long time of trial and error and constant reminders to take it easy on myself to find a routine and workout that not only made me feel good physically, but mentally.

Reshaping my relationship with moving my body has made me an overall happier and calmer person, but it is not without hard mental work. This year, as I work to complete a full 365 days of beginning to heal my relationship exercise, it’s a good reminder to take with me that physicality and mentality cannot work if one is over-exhausted. 

5. I am still learning.

Short. Sweet. To the point: I don’t have all the answers, but most importantly, I don’t need to have all the answers. I always put so much perfectionism on myself and everything I create that I lose the fun and joy of my career and studies. I always have to be on my A game, which makes me more often than not burnt out and really struggling to crawl my way back to some sense of “productivity.”

It’s exhausting, but realizing that I don’t need to have everything sorted out and don’t have to have all the answers for everything I come across has seriously opened me up to the joy of learning that I somehow lost along my academic journey. 

There is often power to be found in admitting “I don’t know.” Taking the time to learn and allow yourself to listen will make for a transformative and revolutionary 2025.