Crisis talks
When poor mental health led writer Lydia Wang to text a crisis helpline in the middle of the night, the experience was so transformative that she decided to train as a volunteer. Here, she shares how you, too, can help someone in need
The first time I texted a crisis helpline, I wanted to feel that someone, somewhere, was on my side. I don’t remember what I was going through exactly; I suspect it was a melange of loneliness and anxiety about something minor I’d messed up at work. I do remember that I didn’t want to hurt myself. But I was worried that I would.
I was in my early twenties, and in that moment, everyone in my support system was asleep; presumably, whatever I was struggling with didn’t warrant a 2am phone call. But feeling triggered – and desperate for someone to help me stop my spiralling thoughts – Isought out a helpline and five minutes later I was connected with a volunteer crisis counsellor. After introducing themselves, they asked what was on my mind and talked to me for nearly an hour about every small, horrible thing that had happened that day.
My experience of becoming a crisis counsellor started in much the same way: during a really bad night. It was early on in the pandemic. Unemployed – and feeling disconnected from my friends – Itexted a helpline once again. This time, I received a holding message; there was a slightly longer-than-usual waiting time – more people than ever were texting. While I waited, restless, I went to the helpline’s website and clicked on a button marked ‘Volunteer’. What I needed was a sense of connection; maybe I could find that on the other side of the conversation. The thought alone calmed me enough to help me drift off to sleep.
The next day, I started the application process; a few weeks later, my application was approved. I underwent 30 hours of training and was assigned a coach who served as a mentor. Still, before my first shift, I was terrified. Despite all that time and training, I had no professional background in psychology and I was worried I wouldn’t know the right thing to say. Frankly, I was concerned that my own – still precarious – mental health would preclude me from helping someone else. I was still learning to navigate my lowest nights. Was I really qualified to walk anyone else through theirs? But then, as I started my first conversation, I remembered what had propelled me to text in the first place: that loneliness and hopelessness, that desire for connection. I knew that if my texter was anything like me, they didn’t want a long-term solution or mental health advice. What they really wanted was someone who would listen.
TIME LINES
It wasn’t until the 1950s, when more households began to own telephones, that suicide and crisis helplines started to gain traction. Vicar and writer-cartoonist Chad Varah founded Samaritans, th
