Crisis Text Line is a non-profit organization that provides free crisis counseling support 24/7 via text. With conversations drastically ranging from the relatively mundane to life threatening situations, people often ask me, “Why would anyone volunteer to place themselves in proximity to such emotional and turbulent situations?” Read on to know my thoughts about being a night shift Crisis Counselor and how this rewarding experience relates to my medical aspirations.
“What if I say the wrong thing?”
Until I became a Crisis Counselor, I had no idea how to talk to someone about suicide. In conversations about mental health, it was hard not to be apprehensive about having the perfect language to address such delicate topics. When I first began training to become a Crisis Counselor, I quickly learned that helping someone who is struggling or in an active crisis is not about knowing the absolute right thing to say. It’s about offering unwavering support and compassionate listening. In fact, most texters don’t want to be “fixed” or “solved,” and they don’t want advice. They simply want to be heard.
I’ve learned to exercise empathy to put myself in the mind of a younger person for whom a bad test score or an unrequited first love truly feels like the end of the world. When I put myself in the mind of each texter, I practice the compassionate care I want to carry as a physician one day. You’ll never hear me say, “It could be worse” or “That’s not so bad” to texters about their pain, much less a patient. It’s my job to listen to their fears, validate their hurt, and most importantly, let them know that they’re not alone.
“I’m no good under pressure.”
There is no doubt that this role can be emotionally draining. Conversation topics that are common year-round such as anxiety, relationships, depression, suicidal ideation, and loneliness were amplified this year in particular. I found myself addressing concerns about panic, COVID-19 symptoms, finances, racial disparities, bereavement, and being stuck inside. Participating in a 30-hour intensive training on risk assessment has built my confidence in handling dangerous situations.
Furthermore, with every conversation I’ve had, my job has been to help keep the person safe and that includes understanding if the person is a danger to themselves or others. More than the words used, I’ve relied on creating a comfortable environment where the other person knows that they are truly supported and cared for. Language that acknowledges the other person’s struggle can be a useful precursor to the difficult conversation that may ensue. I keep in mind that the hardest text for any texters to send is the first one and acknowledge their strength in reaching out.
“Would I truly be able to make a difference for someone?”
Not every conversation ends with a clear “Thank you” from the texter. Although a texter could have been guided to a safer, calmer place by the end of the conversation, they may not necessarily recognize right away that they “feel better.” However, it’s important to note that this isn’t a failure; it’s the nature of crisis intervention work. Simply knowing that a texter felt heard means more than enough. Every conversation I have is one more person who knows that I’m available to support them. Being mindful of this has proven vital not only to my work with texters, but to my empathy for the people around me.
As a future physician, I must be cognizant of the trust and vulnerability patients bring with them into the hospital. There will be patients with a mistrust in the healthcare system, a lack of confidence in doctors’ ability to relieve chronic pain, and/or a fear of risk in medical intervention. Being attentive to each person’s story and pain is crucial to my ability to be non-judgmental, caring, and empathetic in this profession.
“I saved a life tonight.”
As a Crisis Counselor, I have the privilege and opportunity to support people through their darkest moments (literally and figuratively on the night shift). I’ve learned that I’m called to meet the texter where they are; not where I necessarily want them to be. Knowing that I’m making a difference (even if it’s the smallest difference for just one person) is one of the greatest rewards I could be granted.
What surprised me the most about this role is how I leave most shifts feeling hopeful, inspired by the strength and bravery I see in so many texters. When it's fear alone, it's overwhelming. When it's shared, it can be lessened, and strength can shine through. For a texter, there is power in knowing that someone out there cares. For a Crisis Counselor, there is power in knowing that a few extra minutes texting a complete stranger saved that person’s life.