Finding the balance
Ringing phones, whispered confessions, angry outbursts, and hysterical questions. All of these things were part of my graduate school experience.
Starting in 2005, I was a first responder on a local sexual assault line. I often took overnight shifts, as my partner worked nights, so the ringing of the phone wouldn't bother anyone but me, and, as someone who is all too familiar with insomnia, I would probably be awake anyway. So, as I took classes that were supposed to teach me to be a competent therapist, I also talked people through their various crises.
You might find this a strange thing for me to do. Not only am I a sexual assault survivor, I'm also a person with a number of mental health issues of her own. Often, people asked me how I thought I could help others when it was impossible for me to help myself.
At first, I found this attitude discouraging. Maybe people were right. Maybe someone as broken as I am has no business trying to assist others. Obviously, I haven't done so well with improving my own life circumstances, so what would make me think I could make a difference in the lives of others?
Slowly though, I came to understand one of the most important lessons I have ever been made to learn. It takes more than textbook learning to make someone a good, helpful, competent therapist or crisis line worker. It takes an innate sense of compassion, good listening skills, and the ability to help people problem solve. I learned to sit back and listen to the outpouring of grief, anger and disbelief. I learned that answers weren't always expected or even desired. I came to understand that I wasn't there to fix people. Instead, I was there to help them make it through the night.
It has been said that the darkest hour comes just before the dawn. During my time on the phones, I realized this was true. Our demons come out to taunt us at night. Sometimes, they come in the form of nightmares or flashbacks. Sometimes, a body deprived of sleep falls prey to the tricks of the mind, and a person finds themselves reliving some of the most horrible experiences they were ever forced to endure. I can't tell you exactly why this is so. I can simply attest to the fact that it's true.
Although crisis line work came naturally to me, I did have to find a way not to let it affect me too deeply. Because I have experienced similar things, it was often very easy to become triggered myself. If someone talked about being raped, it wasn't hard for me to drift back to my own time beneath the body of my attacker, and the helplessness those memories evoked. Those experiences could be a help, rather than a hinderance. I just had to learn how to let that be possible. I found that, having experienced some of the same things, I was able to empathize with them very easily. I could understand their fear, their self-loathing, their helplessness. I had been there. Did I admit this? No. I was taught early on that crisis line work was not about me and my experiences. Instead, it was about the callers. However, I feel that, had I not experienced some of these things, I probably wouldn't have been nearly as effective as I proved to be. Sometimes, you just had to be there. Sometimes, you have to have walked a similar path to truly grasp what another person is going through. Simply reading about the effects of sexual assault isn't always enough. On the job training is all well and good, but it can't instill the emotions that true experience instills. And so, if there can be a positive side to the horrific events I've lived through, maybe it's the fact that I can now bear witness to other survivors, and help them make it through just one more night. One night at a time. This is how I first began to make a difference.
This is my entry for week 2 of second chance idol. The polls will go up later this evening. If you enjoyed this piece, please consider voting for it.
Starting in 2005, I was a first responder on a local sexual assault line. I often took overnight shifts, as my partner worked nights, so the ringing of the phone wouldn't bother anyone but me, and, as someone who is all too familiar with insomnia, I would probably be awake anyway. So, as I took classes that were supposed to teach me to be a competent therapist, I also talked people through their various crises.
You might find this a strange thing for me to do. Not only am I a sexual assault survivor, I'm also a person with a number of mental health issues of her own. Often, people asked me how I thought I could help others when it was impossible for me to help myself.
At first, I found this attitude discouraging. Maybe people were right. Maybe someone as broken as I am has no business trying to assist others. Obviously, I haven't done so well with improving my own life circumstances, so what would make me think I could make a difference in the lives of others?
Slowly though, I came to understand one of the most important lessons I have ever been made to learn. It takes more than textbook learning to make someone a good, helpful, competent therapist or crisis line worker. It takes an innate sense of compassion, good listening skills, and the ability to help people problem solve. I learned to sit back and listen to the outpouring of grief, anger and disbelief. I learned that answers weren't always expected or even desired. I came to understand that I wasn't there to fix people. Instead, I was there to help them make it through the night.
It has been said that the darkest hour comes just before the dawn. During my time on the phones, I realized this was true. Our demons come out to taunt us at night. Sometimes, they come in the form of nightmares or flashbacks. Sometimes, a body deprived of sleep falls prey to the tricks of the mind, and a person finds themselves reliving some of the most horrible experiences they were ever forced to endure. I can't tell you exactly why this is so. I can simply attest to the fact that it's true.
Although crisis line work came naturally to me, I did have to find a way not to let it affect me too deeply. Because I have experienced similar things, it was often very easy to become triggered myself. If someone talked about being raped, it wasn't hard for me to drift back to my own time beneath the body of my attacker, and the helplessness those memories evoked. Those experiences could be a help, rather than a hinderance. I just had to learn how to let that be possible. I found that, having experienced some of the same things, I was able to empathize with them very easily. I could understand their fear, their self-loathing, their helplessness. I had been there. Did I admit this? No. I was taught early on that crisis line work was not about me and my experiences. Instead, it was about the callers. However, I feel that, had I not experienced some of these things, I probably wouldn't have been nearly as effective as I proved to be. Sometimes, you just had to be there. Sometimes, you have to have walked a similar path to truly grasp what another person is going through. Simply reading about the effects of sexual assault isn't always enough. On the job training is all well and good, but it can't instill the emotions that true experience instills. And so, if there can be a positive side to the horrific events I've lived through, maybe it's the fact that I can now bear witness to other survivors, and help them make it through just one more night. One night at a time. This is how I first began to make a difference.
This is my entry for week 2 of second chance idol. The polls will go up later this evening. If you enjoyed this piece, please consider voting for it.