The Whole Nine Yards

 Well, there was one time I got dragged into the manager's office. 

It was regarding a regular caller. I still remember the name. I was fond of that one. You spend enough time with this stuff, it's hard not to think about it. Well, be careful with your social media. That was the take home. Don't you go posting on facebook even a vague reference. The slightest detail. It didn't matter I didn't use the name. They monitor the social media when you work/volunteer there. You can't reference anything at all. I talked to that one many times. I felt like I understood. Oh, there was no advice giving. Not allowed. Reflections, validations, and then what's your plan? And then you forget.

Suicide in Progress

The one I remember most. It was on Crisisline. She was a young adult, I'd guess right around 19. I don't know what the PC term is. Latino? Hispanic? She was in a panic.

My brother is out front waving a gun! He says he's going to kill himself! 

And, per procedure, my partner/supervisor is by my side, on the line with 911.

Tell him you love him. Tell him it's gonna be ok. We've got help on the way.

There was another procedure. You end the call, you don't find out what happens. 

The final procedure: if it goes the wrong way, you get debriefed.

WE NEVER GOT DEBRIEFED.

Guardian

 I am the Guardian and I walk in the light. I have a home. That home is Crisisline/988.

I lived there for 3 and a half years. I remember the building. The halls. The call room. The systems. They may have changed. It's 988 now. It wasn't always local of course. Calls were sometimes rerouted from centers that weren't available.

I was one of a handful of male trainees at the training. By the time I was volunteering, I was the only male volunteer or entry level worker. There was one other male worker. I remember him well. On these things I have to be very vague. We all live here.

There were three lines. Crisisline, Julie Valentine, and SafeHarbor.

Julie Valentine was definitely the darkest one. Stuff you never wanted to know that you didn't want to know. Most of the callers were female. But when the only two people in the room are male, you don't gotta lotta options. There was one caller that had a history. You wanted to write it off as make believe. You didn't want to know. It sounded like an NC-17 movie. It sounded like The Shining. I remember it well. That's all I'm gonna say about that. I had enough sense and training to keep my comments limited. It was sad.

Crisisline was more meat and potatoes. When it got serious, it got life and death. But there were plenty of regulars. 

SafeHarbor was not as dark as JV. It was processing. This happened, this person is dangerous, can they find me? Where's the police escort? Well, they found the shelter last time. They're gonna track me down. Again, mostly females. It was hard to find options for males. But they did end up having to call.

Follow

There was someone that I followed... it started a long time ago. 

I was 17... one of my darkest times... I needed a voice to bring me out. That voice was there. She was roughly half a dozen years older. Bright voice... full of life. Easy smile... very open. 

It was a voice I kept to to keep me steady for 21 years, on and off. A voice to give me strength. It was an easy voice to remember. 

I heard it a few more times, from time to time.

The last time I heard that voice, I was 38. I'm thankful that voice was there. 

I've drawn too much attention to that voice. More attention then that voice needed. I'm just thankful that voice was there. It kept me here so many times. When other voices would get loud, I recalled that voice. That voice is gone. I let it go. I'm a bit more steady now. Closer to the ground. I no longer need to cling to that voice and its reassurances and encouragements, which were many. Laugh was like music. That voice had a steady hand with me. She wasn't afraid. But I caused her grief. She was no stranger to grief. 

There were other voices along the way. Voices I relied on. They were kind enough to let me hear them. 

Another voice, I found it when I was 38... she knew how to help me with my grief... but that voice had to go away. Very suddenly. That's how I returned to the first one. Because I was shattered. I had bought a gun. I was going to go away. I was going to be free. Someone talked me down. I sold the gun. And I returned to the first... told her what happened. She came to tears... she stayed steady... she was strong. She never foreswore me... she stayed steady... her eyes not so bright... but steady... even when she left, she was steady, looked me in the eyes... she denied everything... she refused to put me down. Even when others tried to pull her away, she stayed steady, denied everything, pushed them away. She refused to let me break. She would not allow it. She had given too much to let me break. She would not allow it.

She kept me here. She knew how to do that. She was steady. So here I am. I am whole. Closer to the ground.

She would never let me break.

I went too far in looking her up. I went too far in texting her. But I believe the last message i sent, the last she ever heard from me...

I said I'm your guardian angel. If you ever need anything... anything at all... you come find me. You find me. 

I meant every single word. I still do. Some things you can't forget. You shouldn't forget. Someone saves your life, you have to remember. How many times she did that, its hard to say. She just knew how. She didn't have to be there to do it. Because she was steel. Unbreakable. She was smaller then me. She didn't seem to notice.

I still remember. So many moments she was there. Some of my darkest hours, I didn't have to picture her or remember her voice because she was literally there. Steady. Building me up. Being patient. She touched my hand. We played volleyball. We talked. She watched me play some soccer. She listened. She treated me like a good friend. She valued me. I don't remember her ever asking for anything or putting me down.

She was more then a rock. She was an unbreakable anchor through so many storms. 21 years of storms. You think about 21 years... that's a long time. So yeah. I get a lot of heat for that. But she held on. I never had to tell her my name. For 21 years she remembered. 21 years. 

How many people keep a stranger alive for 21 years with just presence? That's hard to do. So if anyone is proud of me. I think I know who.