Crisis Counseling

 For the past six months, I’ve been volunteering as a crisis counselor.

I started because I care deeply about mental health and wanted to help people. But I didn’t fully understand how difficult this work could be until I was actually doing it.

Some conversations are incredibly intense. Sometimes I have to call 911 because someone may be in immediate danger. Sometimes people are angry, frustrated, or say hurtful things. I’ve even had someone simply say, “Fuck you.”

I won’t pretend those moments don’t affect me. They do.

I take this work seriously. It’s unpaid, emotionally demanding, and sometimes painful. There are conversations that stay with me long after they end.

But over time, I’ve learned something important: anger often comes from pain. People reach out in moments when they feel overwhelmed, hopeless, frightened, or completely alone. Their harsh words may have very little to do with me and everything to do with what they are carrying.

I’ve also learned that I cannot fix someone’s life in a single conversation. I can listen. I can stay present. I can help them through that moment. Sometimes, that is all I can do.

In six months, I’ve supported more than 100 people.

After we disconnect, I usually never know what happens next. I don’t know where they are today. I don’t know whether things got better.

But I think about them.

I hope they are still here.

I hope they found support. I hope life became a little easier. And I hope that, even if only for a few minutes, our conversation helped them feel less alone.

This work is heavy. It has affected me, challenged me, and taught me more than I expected.

But it matters.

And even when it’s hard, I keep showing up.