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.

Pillars of Trust

The echoes of the city, they slowly fade with time...
There beyond the meadows... locked within the vines...

Streams of sunlight bearing down

This place that once was mine.

Here the ancient pillars stand, holding up the wall...

Carved into the weathered stone... are records of my fall..

And faded is the mirror there

With an image one can't recall.

Papers cast upon the stone, beside a pool of water...

Letters written long ago... the pain that I begot her...

And even as it fades away

Yet again it stirs...

To remind me not to bring my sorrow

Back beyond that wall.

Looking up the footprints fall, across a field of mud...

Washing in... the memories play, of the times before the flood...

A bird, it picks at crumbs of what

Was shared in heart and blood.

Where the faded footprints pass, is a mystery in my mind...

As the voices call again, so stretches out the vine...

The clock it will not wind again...

Surrender this... to time.

Thought Boundaries

 Well, it's back to this. The one thing the professionals can all agree on. Boundaries.

I've started wearing earplugs almost 24/7. Even with them on, I hear more then I need to hear. Funny thing is, with tone of voice and other nonverbals, yo entiendo Espanol. More or less. Comprendo italiano. More or less. As far as the Hablo and the parlano, that's where I run into trouble. Funny thing is, sometimes I like hispanics more then Italians. Maybe I'll give up on English, Italian, and Spanish and learn... well, there's always binary. That's just a lot of 1s and 0s. 

I'm trying to keep my communications spaced out. Use fewer words. Now people are like, we want to "lay eyes on you". So I'm having people do that. If enough people do that, maybe everyone else can find something else to talk about and think about.

So back to the Self Care School of thought. My coursework has been extensive. I've passed all the hobby electives. I've got the three focuses: Processing, Mindfulness, and Boundaries. The third focus has been the hardest. The first is the most disorienting. Every time I pass a hurdle in the first focus, I bounce into the Mindfulness skills to manage dissociation, then I'm readjusting the boundaries. I guess I thought that it was mostly just the first two and that the boundaries stayed the same. But no. The boundaries need adjustment. They need maintenance. Like a good fence. The Processing is like a ground tremor, I get a little disoriented, I use the mindfulness skills to find myself, and then I use those skills and steady and sturdy boundaries to adjust my fencing. Cuz there's always somebody wanting to do it for me. The Professionals are the fence posts. They stand steady so the structure maintains its shape and purpose. I can't move the posts. I'm not that strong. I can adjust the lattice and the paint and post signs if needs be. The earplugs and the music from the calm app are the sound barriers. Glasses and face masks can serve as visual barriers. Clothing is a good visual barrier. Thought barriers include call screening and written communication. Occasionally it's the Hasta Luego. Drive throughs are my friends. 

People are like TMI, TMI... well, be careful what you ask. Sometimes a nod and a smile or a wave is all you need. Excessive curiosity, excessive need for detail? That's how problems begin. 

Sometimes it takes a while to get to the truth. The truth doesn't come in standardized sizes. Everyone's truth is slightly different. There's not enough labels in the world for that. Not enough meds. Helping someone arrive at the truth is a tremendous skill to have. Sometimes it takes time. No matter what your field. They have to want to find it, it has to be available from someone or somewhere, and they have to learn what to look for. It starts with little hints and signs and builds from there. They have to arrive at the truth for their problem at the right pace, with the right hints and signs both physically and emotionally. Everyday, the problems are different and everyday there's slight differences or sometimes big ones in the hints and signs you find. They are all over the world. From all the people and places and things and animals that the higher power or powers have placed here. Any wise person looks to multiple sources for their signs. That's where trust comes in. That's where experience comes in. Don't trust blindly, nor return to the same sources of trust blindly. I've rearranged my trust a bit. I thank God for that.

Reflections

Moving away, and then back towards
The magnetism, I can't avoid

You pull me in, I push away

You're back again, you're here to stay.

You've got your words, and I've got mine

We've said enough, we've had our time

Tell me what you want to hear...

Do you miss the old times we had together?

I've been walking in my mind.

Past the oceans of my thoughts...

finding respite from expectations that quickly rise and fall.

And as I pass the memories,

And there is joy within my soul once again.

Quietly I set my pace... away from the words that others place...

And though they come to judge again...

I let them say their peace.

Ignoring all the sneers.

For sneers and snarls are easy friends...

That does not make them right. 

They will never like my words,

They may not like my pace...

But in my time I do forgive...

Let them have their hate.

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Tax Trauma

It was a customer from out of state. She came in, I was the one available. I try not to be a counselor when doing taxes. It wasn't even a tax matter. Yet she wouldn't go away till she was heard. She needed a voice of reason. 

Whether someone had told her the wrong thing at a tax office, whether she had constructed it, or whether someone at the company responsible for the specific problem involved had misspoken, whether someone in her family or in the world had given her the wrong idea, or whether it was just bad policy, no one will ever know. 

Sometimes I want to help too much. And she was triggered out the wazoo. Bills to pay. Refund was stuck somewhere. I'm pretty sure most people in that office heard just about everything she had to say. Sometimes it's like that. You work the day shift, you take walk ins, you get problems from other places. Other people. Other companies sometimes. There was a specific policy and a different company and a different office in a different state. But she left knowing the truth: however this happened, she was stuck with the same option. At least I was able to do that. 

When everybody's got an opinion, I try to emphasize the simple truth. 

Funny thing is, she was a nurse. Yeah, she told me all about that too. Not that I asked.