Good morning, everyone.
My name is Jason Miles. I'm here to speak about homelessness and housing in Canada. I'm also here today as someone who is now housed and more than two and a half years free from my addiction.
I know I'm one of the lucky ones. There was a time when I truly did not believe I would ever be able to say that again. I spent approximately six years homeless on the streets of Toronto, living with severe mental health struggles, physical health issues and an addiction that completely took over my life.
During that time, my life became a cycle of trying to survive. I went through repeated attempts to get help, moments of recovery that didn't last, time in and out of jail, and periods when I was actively using and unable to break free from it. I experienced multiple overdoses and serious injuries, and more than once I came very close to not waking up again. There were moments when I did not think I would make it through another night.
The hardest part is that I did not go through that alone. My family and friends went through it too. Often, people who loved me had no idea where I was or if I was even alive. Sometimes the only time they would hear anything was through a call from a hospital or from the justice system telling them where I had ended up again. Homelessness and addiction don't stay with one person. They ripple out to everyone around them.
Before all of this, my life looked completely different from the outside. I had education. I had a long-term marriage. I had children. I owned a home. I worked as a construction superintendent and delivered major infrastructure projects across Toronto, including hospitals. I had a career that on paper looked successful and stable. Nothing about my life suggested I would end up homeless.
However, what I've learned is that homelessness does not discriminate. It doesn't matter what you've achieved, what you've earned or what your life looked like before. It can happen through a combination of circumstances, timing and the moment when support is not there when you need it most.
For me, it was a divorce, it was a poorly timed car accident and it was the strain of an overwhelming workload I could no longer carry. Within a short period of time, everything collapsed. On paper, I made too much money to qualify for the supports I needed, and that gap—that space between systems—is where I fell.
From there, it took years to climb out. It took almost every part of the system at different points: hospitals, emergency care shelters, harm reduction services and treatment supports, which I accessed more than once. It took frontline workers who kept showing up for me even when I couldn't show up for myself.
Honestly, it also took luck, like moments when the right person was there at the right time. I think that's what matters. When survival and recovery depend that much on luck, something in the system is not working. I'm sitting here today because I made it through that system, and I want to use my experience to speak about what needs to change so others don't have to rely on the same level of luck that I did.
First, we need to stop treating housing, mental health and addiction as separate systems. In reality, they are happening together for most people experiencing homelessness. When systems stay siloed, people fall through the gaps between them. We need integrated, coordinated supports where housing is the foundation and not the reward for recovery.
Second, we need a clear and navigable housing system that people can actually understand and use. Right now, access is fragmented across multiple wait-lists, unclear eligibility rules and different organizations controlling different parts of the process. Even frontline workers struggle to navigate it. We need a single, transparent pathway into housing, with clear information on where housing is available, how people are prioritized and how decisions are going to be made.
Third, we need to scale supportive housing across the full spectrum of need—low, medium and high support—and need to ensure people are matched appropriately. Coming off the street is not just about a unit. It requires health care, mental health support, addiction care and ongoing stability. When people are placed in the wrong level of care, they are more likely to cycle back into crisis. We need housing that is matched to need and not availability.
Finally, we need to change the public conversation about supportive housing in this country. There is still fear and misinformation about what these homes are and who they serve, but the evidence in my lived experience is clear: Supportive housing reduces pressures on hospitals, shelters and the justice system, and it costs less than letting people remain unhoused.
We need to be honest with the public. The current system is already expensive. The question is whether we spend that money in crisis or on housing that actually works.
There was a time when I did not believe I would ever be sitting here speaking to you. I'm grateful to be here, and I'm here because I believe others deserve the same chance I was given but without needing the same level of luck. What I needed was not more effort; it was a system that didn't require luck.
Thank you for your time.
