In a conversation today, I was reminded about an incident
with a depressed person early in my career.
I was working at an alcohol and drug treatment center. In a hospital setting. And though I usually didn’t man the phones,
one day I did answer the phone. And a
suicidal person was on the other end of the line. I had never worked on a crisis hotline. But obviously I had some skill and training
for handling the situation. And I had
those instincts honed by my experience with Mom. I can’t remember a lot of the details about
the phone call. This was years ago. But I remember where I was sitting. And having a team who helped me deal with
it. And the basics of what happened. I used my talent at talking with people to
keep this person on the phone. And
worked hard to find out where she was located.
The conversation was pretty typical for talking to someone who was
depressed. With the added factor that she
was pretty honest about her desire to die. And she had a plan. One which she seemed capable of implementing.
I did a lot of listening. And I did a lot of reassuring. I talked about how suicide is a permanent
solution to a temporary problem. And I
asked about family. I simply kept her
talking while I asked the nursing staff to contact police. (I wrote
notes.) And it felt like I was on the
phone for hours. It was probably under
an hour.
This person kept threatening to hang up on me. I was pretty determined to keep her on the
phone. So, I used my ability to chat to
keep her on. I went by instinct, relying
on the clues that she gave me about what I needed to say. And I know I was praying. I remember the nursing staff quickly involved
the police. And soon I could hear the
police banging on her door. She said…”Did
you do that?” I was honest. I said yes. She said: “How could you do that to me?
How could you betray me that way?”
And I felt NO guilt. I felt
relief. I explained that I was trying to
save her. And that I cared about her
survival very much. And I did. I was pretty proud that it had worked. And I was grateful that the nursing staff was
so knowledgeable about the “what to do” part of it. And that they took care of business while I
kept her on the line. And I didn’t feel
bad that she was angry with me at all.
The point? Sometimes
when someone is mentally ill and suffering, we have to do and say things that
they don’t like. And they get angry at
us. Maybe we confront them. We may tell them what the real consequences
of their behavior might be. Or we get
them help against their wishes. Guilt is
misplaced in these situations, although we might feel guilty. I never knew what happened to that person. I
don’t think they were admitted to our facility. But I know they had the
opportunity for help. At least that
day. Because the police got there before
they tried anything. As far as I know. And I felt good that I contributed to her
survival.
There have been times that people have said things to me
that ‘felt’ unkind in the moment. They
were confrontive. And I didn’t like
that. But sometimes it was really
needed. For my survival. To help me get through a tough time. To move me forward. To help me. And those are the people that I consider my friends. My daughter is always willing to give me
honest feedback. And sometimes I don’t
like it. But I always benefit. For me, it helps when the feedback is given
in a loving manner. If you are harsh
with me, I go straight into defensiveness. But because I know the value of confrontation in helping people heal, I
am usually pretty open to whatever feedback I get. Even when I don’t like it. Even when I think I know better. And even when everything that my mind is
telling me is fighting it. Sometimes love comes in even when you don’t think
people are loving you. I wonder if any of you have experienced this kind of
‘tough love’. How did you respond? Did it help?
Do you realize that it meant love?
Or are you still fighting it? Let’s
talk!
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