Volunteering

We were brought up to believe that we had an obligation to contribute to the community in which we live.  Over the years we often had an unofficial refuge in the home - people in distress would come for a meal and stay for weeks.  My mother taught migrants English in her lunch hour.  My father gave blood (hundreds of pints of blood) and repaired aids and appliances for people with sight disabilities.

As a young thing I volunteered with the YMCA, despite being neither Christian nor male.  And gave blood.

When I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis the blood bank slapped a life-time ban on me.  As far as anyone knows MS isn't a blood borne disease - but they were taking no chances.

The MS progressed and my employment was terminated.  And I discovered that I had been defining myself by what I did.  A mistake.

I needed to feel that I still had something to offer the community - so signed up to do the training with Lifeline to become a telephone crisis counsellor.  That was a little over sixteen years ago - and I am still there.

I take calls from people in crisis Australian wide - self-defined crisis.  So I speak to people with relationship difficulties, grief, loss, survivors of sexual abuse, people contemplating suicide (and on a few scary occasions people in the process of killing themselves), people wrestling with mental illness, people bereaved by suicide, and a whole range of other things. 

I also speak to people using the crisis line to indulge their sexual fantasies.  We are cheaper than the sex lines.  So far, while they get short shrift from me, I have managed not to ask them 'Are you interested in a job involving sexual intercourse and travel?  You are?  Well eff off then.' 

Each call is different, and my heart thumps each and every time the phone rings.  I firmly believe that if I wasn't anxious I would be getting complacent and it would be time to move on.

I have wept with and for callers and I have laughed with them too.  The calls are often challenging and frequently exhausting.  I have been frightened, angry, disgusted.  Sometimes I leave with my heart aching.

But I am not a hero.  I get a great deal more than I am able to give.  The pain, the fear, the anger I feel is a pale shadow of what the caller has and is enduring.  It is also a reminder that there are a lot of positives in my life. 

I am endlessly fascinated by people.  I don't always like them, and I often don't like what individuals or we as a species do, but I am fascinated.   And sometimes I can reduce pain, often I can share pain, and sometimes I can help people turn their lives around.  Which is amazing.  And rewarding.

So each fortnight I do a shift.  Most of what I do is listening.  Hearing, and sharing the pain and hopefully giving the caller some resources to take charge of their own life and direction.  When safety is an issue we are more directive, and will sometimes intervene but as a rule it is about empowering the caller rather than taking over.  In the 'off weeks' I put on a supervisor's hat and support other counsellors and negotiate with emergency services when and if required.   I sometimes fill extra shifts too.   There is always someone in crisis and our lines never close down.  We are open all day and every day.

Yes, I do contribute to the community, but I have chosen the way in which I want to do so.  It is a good fit with my interests, and has introduced me to some amazing people.  I suspect that if I was faced with some of the things our callers face I would be under the bed, velcroed to the carpet, refusing to come out. 

One of my brothers donates plasma each fortnight and drives the 'blood bus'.  He also volunteers at the local zoo - shovelling crap often, but being exposed to the animals he loves (jealous thoughts).  He. like me, volunteers in areas which are 'right' for him.

Similarly I work with the MS Society providing other people with the dread disease with peer support.  I wish it had been available when I was first diagnosed...