Crisis Clinic

In nineteen eighty-six I made a decision to do some community service. I looked around at a variety of programs and decided to apply to the crisis clinic. I went through their interview process and they invited me to work their phone lines. The interesting thing about that job interview was that some indiscretions and excesses of youth were actually considered an asset for a candidate. If you had been in counseling at one time or another, all the better. I guess the thinking was that these experiences might help you to better identify with some callers.

The clinic provided a six week crisis intervention training course. This not only prepared you to deal with crisis management, but also gave you a lot of general information on topics that lead to crisis, such as: mental illness, substance abuse, spouse abuse, rape and molestation. Some techniques learned in those classes and practiced in the trenches, still serve me today in dealing with the everyday crisis of family life.

I worked the phone lines for a four hour shift once a week for a year. It was a very difficult job, and I left the clinic with a very different outlook on our society. I would not say that I am a flaming liberal...I belong to the NRA...but I am definitely more sympathetic with the plight of the abused, ignored and down trodden.

One of the reasons I left the clinic after my year obligation was over, was my better understanding of the actual service the clinic provides. The Seattle Crisis Clinic does provide all the life saving services I read about in their brochure, but that is not the bulk of what they do. Some nights, I would answer the phones all night and not connect with one real crisis. Instead, I would talk for hours with the ‘regulars’. These are the mentally dysfunctional people who use the crisis line as a reality check, and for company. I would guess that ninety-five percent of the calls came from people who called every night with the same story. These people did have the potential for suicide or other forms of harm to themselves and others, but their condition was stagnant, pathetic and not in crisis. Unfortunately, these people live so close to chronic crisis, that just not talking to them could be the trigger that sends them into genuine crisis. They called us every night for their allotted five minutes of soothing phone fix.

There are lot of those people out there. We only had a handful of people working the lines. People often didn’t get through or would not get an answer for five to ten minutes or longer. I was extremely frustrated listening to some pathetic sole rehash the same sad story for the umpteenth time while I watched the other lines blink on the phone. One of those blinking lines might well be someone with a gun in their ear wondering if they should pull the trigger, or a shattered woman bleeding at a pay phone who had just been raped. These people could be getting a busy tone or listening to the line ring forever. The frustration of the line-jamming ‘regulars’ was the worst part of the job. People in real crisis did get through to us as well, and that could be a hell of a ride. Sometimes the situation would be so tragic and hopeless that it would haunt you for days after the call, other people would call in a psychotic delirium that would take you on a nightmarish psychological roller coaster ride. I consider myself to be a little bonkers, but these people were stark raving maniacs.

One thing I learned about insanity is—in this state—it is not a crime. You can get in all the heated arguments you want with fire hydrants and other inanimate objects. You can see pink elephants or demons, you can wrestle with phantoms and share your body with dozens of personalities. Unless you are physically hurting yourself or others, it is allowed and you have the right to be left alone.

I feel I helped a few people over the course of my year on the crisis lines, I might have even saved a life or two. There were some very rewarding moments, but most of the time you never really knew what happened to the person on the other end of the phone. You are helping them while you are talking to them. Maybe you even get them through a crisis, and they go on to get their life together. I am sure this happens. Mostly, however, you baby-sit the regulars. There is little or no gratification in that, and I always worried about the calls that weren’t getting through.