Category: Updates

Posted March 24th, 2021

By: Thomas Golka

Mila had moved to the Lower Mainland from rural Alberta just three short months ago. She was certain that accepting a new position and moving to the big city would be the fresh start she needed; however, she could have never anticipated that only one month after her move, she would find herself in isolation and lose her job.

Suddenly Mila had nothing to look forward to – her future looked grim.

Living in isolation and lockdown, Mila’s thoughts wandered to new places. She had her mother’s support, but it wasn’t enough. It was impossible for her to convey exactly how she was feeling; whenever they would speak on a video call she would have makeup on, style her hair, and put on her best fake smile…until recently. Mila felt like she had no strength left inside, and she broke down.

She could no longer pretend like the antidepressants were helping. Today, she decided death didn’t scare her. She finally told her mom she wanted everything to be over, and her mom pleaded with her to reach out for support from a crisis centre. Begrudgingly Mila agreed but made no promise that it would change her mind. Phone in one hand and pills in the other, Mila dialled 1-800-SUICIDE.

She heard Andre’s comforting voice say, “Hello. 1-800-SUICIDE. What’s going on for you today?” Mila thought carefully about the question before responding. Naturally, she wanted to put up her guard, but her emotions took over. She immediately burst into tears. There was so much she wanted to reveal but so little she felt like she could share with a stranger. Andre was patient and gave Mila the time she needed to collect herself.

Not knowing how to respond, Mila told Andre about the pills she was holding in her left hand. Andre told Mila to set the pills on the kitchen table and asked if it was possible for her to enter a different room while they spoke. Reluctantly, Mila agreed. Andre said, “Thank you for moving to the other room, this will give us some time to talk together without the pills so close by.”

Mila remained hesitant to open up to Andre. However, she liked the idea of someone holding her accountable and collaborating with her to make a plan.

For a split-second Mila felt relief and told Andre nothing brings her joy these days.

Andre explained that he was here for Mila, and this moment was all that mattered. The anxiousness that Mila was feeling at the beginning of the call turned into a feeling of freedom— freedom to convey all those thoughts she didn’t feel she could share with her mother, her roommate, or anyone else connected to her life.

Mila had been crying the entire day and was losing control of her breathing. Lying on her bed she leaned over to grab a tissue and wiped her face. She closed her eyes, inhaled, exhaled, and gathered herself; Andre was here, ready to listen without judgement.

Saying it all out loud felt good. Mila wasn’t “fixed,” but she felt a sense of relief. It was scary because she had not felt this way in a long time, but it felt right. The baggage of everything she had been holding felt a little less heavy.

Andre started by asking how they could work together to ensure she could get through the night. The two decided on giving all her pills to her roommate who would keep them out of Mila’s sight. Additionally, there would be a follow-up call from the crisis centre one hour later, to check in on both the safety plan with her roommate and on how Mila was doing.

While Mila is supported by a general practitioner who she finds helpful, COVID restrictions have added another layer of complications to receiving the support she needs. Her past few scheduled meetings left her feeling unmotivated and lacking energy.

Part of Andre’s safety planning with Mila was to ensure she arranged a follow-up appointment with her doctor and got a referral to mental health services. She feels differently about attending this one thanks to Andre. Mila told Andre it wasn’t her idea to call the suicide line, but she was glad she did.

When Mila hung up she felt something inside her she hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever – hope. Hope to get through the night, and hope for a better tomorrow.

She knew she had a long way to get where she needed to be, but she had some sense of clarity now. The light at the end of the tunnel was becoming brighter.

—

If you or someone you know is struggling, especially with thoughts of suicide, reach out:

• Vancouver Coastal Regional Distress Line: 604-872-3311
• Anywhere in BC 1-800-SUICIDE: 1-800-784-2433
  
• Mental Health Support Line: 310-6789
  
• Online Chat Service for Youth: www.YouthInBC.com (Noon to 1am)
  
• Online Chat Service for Adults: www.CrisisCentreChat.ca (Noon to 1am)

* This story is a fictionalized account based on call/chat reports. The identities of those involved have been changed to ensure confidentiality of our services.

Posted February 26th, 2021

By: Rudi Araujo

It was just another day in the Lower Mainland. The skies were gray, the rain came down and gently touched the ground. It was cold but not too cold. Melissa was alone at home, sitting on the couch looking at the tiny people walking up and down the street through her apartment window.

She was trying to read a novel, but couldn’t concentrate. Her mind started wandering. First, she thought about the cartoons she used to watch on her family’s old TV;  “Inspector Gadget”was her favourite. Growing up wasn’t always easy, but Melissa tried to hold onto special moments, like watching TV at home while her mum baked cookies. Then Sam came to her mind. They are the best partner Melissa could have ever asked for. Her partner is her rock.

All of a sudden Melissa started sweating. She wasn’t sure if she was hot or cold. The hair on her arms and the back of her neck stood up. There was this feeling that something was stuck in his throat and breathing seemed harder. Melissa began to think about work, family, friends, bills. Anxiety has been her closest companion for years and one that just wouldn’t leave her alone, especially in the last couple of months. She began thinking, “Why does everything need to happen at the same time?”

Melissa was overwhelmed with a feeling of danger and doom. Was she really going to hurt herself this time…or worse? She honestly didn’t know. She felt unsafe. Melissa hoped that a visit to the hospital would help. While waiting to be seen by a doctor, she heard a nurse whisper, “She can’t just threaten to kill herself to get what she wants”. Melissa put her head down and cried. No one was listening to her.

She left the hospital and walked quickly to the SkyTrain station—there was that sweating and struggling to breathe again. Melissa was desperate to make it stop and felt the urge to jump. This would end it all—no more sadness, no more desperation. She would finally be free. Three deep breaths. She was shaking and still sweating but was able to pick up the emergency phone and was met by transit authorities. Another agonizing hospital visit, but this time she stayed. However, because The hospital was in a neighbouring city, they told her they couldn’t do much as she lived in a different health authority area. Melissa didn’t know she still had tears to be cried, but tears streamed down her face. She went home, feeling desperately sad and hopelessly alone.

Melissa went straight into the kitchen. Sam was working from home that day and heard their partner going through the drawers; they were in a meeting and couldn’t say hello. Melissa went to the bathroom, sat on the floor, and with a small knife and cut her arm. This was pain she could see and control.  From deep within her body came an exasperated sob. Sam leapt from their desk and rushed to Melissa’s side. The wounds on her arm were superficial and Sam was able to stop the bleeding, but couldn’t do anything to help with Melissa’s emotional wounds.

Melissa felt she had tried everything but knew she needed help. She needed to feel heard. She had an insight and thought she knew who could listen to her. At first, she felt disoriented and couldn’t think straight. As someone who had been dealing with anxiety and depression for so many years, Melissa was able to stop and breathe. Mindfulness exercises always seemed like a privilege of those who have lots of free time, but it was a powerful tool. She talked to Sam, and they went online and found the Crisis Centre number. Melissa called, and Sam stayed by her side the whole time.

“Crisis Centre. What’s going on for you today?”

Melissa took another deep breath. She was still unsure about this call. She knew she needed help, but what could she say to a random person on the phone? She kept quiet.

“Hello? This is Amanda. You can talk to me. I know you called for a reason and I am here for you.

In a calm and welcoming voice, Amanda, the crisis service responder, said what Melissa wanted to hear. Someone was available to listen. Melissa spoke and Amanda heard her. She told her everything that had happened in the last 24 hours. 

Melissa explained how whenever she needed help, she would contact the mental health system but was told she was no longer eligible for their services since he moved to another city. She started contacting other local services but all she felt was frustration. Melissa really wanted to talk to a psychiatrist so she could still get treatment with the province’s extended health provider, but someone told her they couldn’t refer her to one. The past two months had been hard; a lot had happened. Melissa’s general practitioner told her to go back on medication, but antipsychotics made her feel depressed and suicidal. Her GP wasn’t listening and insisted that no medication would make her feel worse than she already was. She had been to hospitals but had mostly had negative experiences. It was like Melissa had been moving forward before, but now all she could see was a big dark hole in front of her, and she didn’t know what to do.

Melissa was scared that without a psychiatrist she would lose her disability, and would likely kill herself. She didn’t have a set plan but had almost taken action many times. In the midst of all the feelings, Melissa has always been able to call intervention before acting.

“It’s feeling like you’re falling through the cracks and nobody is taking your pain seriously,” said Amanda. 

“She took the words right out of my mouth,” Melissa thought. At first, she was hesitant because Amanda was a complete stranger, but ultimately she felt this was a safe place. The sweating had stopped. It was good to get it all out of her system and talk about her feelings. Amanda seemed knowledgeable and was a great help. Together they explored what supports Melissa had in place already –her partner, Sam, and a counsellor. Amanda invited Melissa to reach out to the Crisis Centre whenever she needed to talk.

The shared emotional connection was very helpful. Melissa felt welcomed and decided that from then on, whenever she was feeling suicidal, she would call the Crisis Centre before calling 911. She was relieved. It felt like she was finally headed towards something positive. She knew her path would still be tortuous, but now she had more support. After the call ended, Melissa began to cry. This was the first time in a long time that Melissa’s tears were of relief.  

—

If you or someone you know is struggling, especially with thoughts of suicide, reach out: 

• Vancouver Coastal Regional Distress Line: 604-872-3311
• Anywhere in BC 1-800-SUICIDE: 1-800-784-2433
• Mental Health Support Line: 310-6789
• Online Chat Service for Youth: www.YouthInBC.com (Noon to 1am)
• Online Chat Service for Adults: www.CrisisCentreChat.ca (Noon to 1am)

* This story is a fictionalized account based on call/chat reports. The identities of those involved have been changed to ensure confidentiality of our services.

Posted February 26th, 2021

By: Chelsea Carter

In the dim light of her desk lamp, Elise picks up her pen, hands shaking. She tried her best, but she just doesn’t see how things will get better. This pandemic isn’t going anywhere and all the adults keep saying it will get better if they follow the rules, but things just keep getting worse.

Once an honour roll student, Elise has fallen so far behind in her last year of high school that she wasn’t sure if she would be able to catch up. She’s sick of being confused and lost in class or handing in assignments late because of poor internet access at her house. At first, she tried using her phone to follow along instead, but she wound up going over her data limit. Her parents thought she was on TikTok and yelled at her for wasting money. She tried to explain but they wouldn’t listen. Elise broke down in tears.

Elise is sick of trying so hard and getting nowhere. She misses her friends, but she is worried about getting COVID-19 or bringing it home because her diabetic mom is high-risk. She hasn’t seen her friends at all since the summer. But, if she’s honest, she doesn’t really want her friends to know her family moved into a basement suite when her mom lost her job. Elise is sick of hearing her parents fight, the noise of her upstairs neighbours boots, and seeing the neighbour’s fence through the windows. She barely leaves their suite these days, and sometimes she thinks she’s forgotten what the sky looks like.

If this is what “living” is then living might not be for her.

She touches pen to paper but actually writing the note is a lot harder than she thought it would be. Her hand shakes worse as she thinks of her parents reading her final goodbye. She is shaking so much now she loses control of her hand and the pen. It falls and rolls to the edge of her desk over a pile of forgotten papers. A yellow flyer her school handed out back in October catches her eye under the pen. Most of the kids just threw it out but she had kept it just in case.

Elise sniffs and dries her eyes with the back of her favourite sweater; Mickey Mouse smiles mockingly on the front, a memory of their trip to Disneyland for Christmas, before the world shut down. She picks up the flyer and contemplates the number, looking between it and her phone.

It was past midnight. Elise couldn’t call her friends—they hadn’t been speaking as much lately. No one had even commented on her last Instagram post. They wouldn’t understand and she didn’t want to burden them with her problems anyway. Everyone seems to be struggling.

Instead of finding her lost pen, Elise picks up the phone and dials the crisis line number on the flyer. She starts thinking about hanging up when someone answers the phone, “Hello, Crisis Centre.”

At first Elise is unsure what to say when Jen asks her what’s going on with her tonight. Elise sniffs and responds, “I just didn’t know who else to call. I was just feeling really overwhelmed…” She is not sure what else to say. Jen kindly asks her questions, getting her to expand on what has made her feel this way. It’s the first time Elise has felt connected to someone else in a while like she is finally being heard without judgment. She looks at the note on her desk with Dear Mom and Dad written on the top. Something inside her bursts.

She begins to tell Jen everything she’s been feeling for the past few months. She is talking a mile a minute, and she’s not even sure if Jen can understand her through her tears. Jen tries to slow her down, gently interjecting to ask questions and getting Elise to take a breath. It helps. Elise starts to slow down and catch her breath. It feels nice to finally open up to someone; she feels like the weight she’s been carrying around for so long is getting a little lighter.

Talking to Jen isn’t how she imagined calling the Crisis Centre would be. It is a lot easier and less embarrassing she feels…relieved. Jen helps Elise feel like what she has been feeling is okay and helps her realize she isn’t the only one feeling this way—a lot of people are struggling. These are hard times. Jen asks Elise if she feels comfortable making a plan so that she can stay safe tonight.

Elise holds the phone to her ear, nods her head, and whispers “that sounds good.” Her shaking has subsided.

Elise looks at the small orange bottle of antidepressants she stole from her parents’ medicine cabinet. The ones she had planned on swallowing. With Jen’s help, she puts them in another room, out of sight. They decide she will talk to her parents and let them know what she was thinking and how she’s been feeling. She will ask them to keep the bottle hidden while they work on a longer-term plan. Jen offers to stay on the line, but they decide instead that Jen will call back in a bit to check-in with her to make sure everything is going all right. Even just knowing that Jen is going to check-in helps Elise feel better.

Calmer now, Elise puts down the phone and lets out a slow breath. She grabs the bottle and gets up, padding down the dark hall. She pauses outside her parents’ door, then slowly pushes it open. Her parents are shocked, and her mom even cries a bit, but they listen,. They believe her. Everything isn’t magically fixed, but Elise doesn’t feel as hopeless anymore. With Jen’s help, she has made a plan to get through tonight, and with some more help she can make a plan to get through the rest.

—

If you or someone you know is struggling, especially with thoughts of suicide, reach out:

• Vancouver Coastal Regional Distress Line: 604-872-3311
• Anywhere in BC 1-800-SUICIDE: 1-800-784-2433
• Mental Health Support Line: 310-6789
• Online Chat Service for Youth: www.YouthInBC.com (Noon to 1am)
• Online Chat Service for Adults: www.CrisisCentreChat.ca (Noon to 1am)

 

* This story is a fictionalized account based on call/chat reports. The identities of those involved have been changed to ensure confidentiality of our services.

Posted February 3rd, 2021

By Stacy Ashton, Executive Director

Things without arms and without legs by Liz Argall is one of my favourite web comics, and this strip is my favourite one of all.

“I would like to be angry, then sad, then comforted, then adventure for solutions, then giggles” is probably the best description of how to support someone in crisis, but more importantly, it’s what the person in crisis has asked for.

In this time of shared stress, we lean on our friends and family, but we are also aware that our friends and family are also struggling. Often friends and family think they need to solve problems to feel they’ve helped, even though many pandemic crises will be solved over time and we mostly need comfort from one another to help us get through.

On the crisis lines, we assume you want comfort first, and help finding solutions when you ask for it. When you are reaching out to loved ones for support or they are reaching out to you, the question “are you looking for comfort or solutions?” frees up the space to get and give the right kind of support.

Expressing painful emotions without the requirement to solve them can immediately open you up to feel unexpected moments of peace and joy—even the giggles. Ending a call with humour is not unusual on the crisis lines. There’s a reason why many of the “next steps” identified by callers as being helpful include watching comedy. “Then giggles” offers pathways to accept what you can’t immediately change, and energy to change what you can.

Posted November 4th, 2020

By Stacy Ashton, Executive Director

At some point in our 51+ year history, there were questions raised about what to call the volunteers who answered our phones. “Crisis Counsellor” was one of the options proposed. 

I thought that was a good idea when I was volunteering on the lines—mostly because I was applying to a Masters of Counselling program and figured the title “Crisis Counsellor” could only help my chances of admission.

Now, however, I’ve played both roles: the person answering the crisis line, and the counsellor working with clients who are experiencing suicidal thoughts or recovering from a suicide attempt. Now I understand what counselling is, and it’s not the same as crisis response. 

Here’s the basic rule of thumb: if you schedule it, it’s counselling. A crisis, on the other hand, can’t be scheduled; when you reach out in a crisis, counselling isn’t exactly what you need. 

When we are in a crisis state, our minds and bodies go into a reaction mode. You’ve likely heard this a million times—I first learned about it in grade school with a cartoon they showed in class. Fight, flight, or freeze—each option requires a lot of energy as your body gets ready to stop thinking and start reacting.

Acting without thinking can get us into a lot of trouble. When you find yourself overwhelmed by intense emotion— which can sometimes feel like intense numbness—talking to someone who will just listen is how you turn your reaction back into thought. 

Counselling is really helpful in sorting out what to do next in your life. If you are facing a choice, if past events in your life are still painful, if something has happened that changes everything, if you are stuck and beating yourself up over it, or if you feel stuck and angry at other people or the world, counselling can help you think the situation through and find a resolution. 

Crisis response is about getting you back into your thinking mind. Counselling is most helpful when you are ready to think. 

If you call the Crisis Centre of BC–anytime, 24/7–you won’t be talking to a “Crisis Counsellor.” You’ll be talking to a skilled, valued, and aptly-named Crisis Service Responder.

• Vancouver Coastal Regional Distress Line: 604-872-3311
• Anywhere in BC 1-800-SUICIDE: 1-800-784-2433
• Mental Health Support Line: 310-6789
• Online Chat Service for Youth: www.YouthInBC.com (Noon to 1am)
• Online Chat Service for Adults: www.CrisisCentreChat.ca (Noon to 1am)

Posted September 23rd, 2019

By Rudi Araujo

Raj picked up the phone in the middle of the night. On the other end was a struggling woman who needed to share her story.

New motherhood. A sense of distance from her partner. Fractured relationships with her family. A history of trauma. That’s a lot to handle in the middle of the night. With a previous suicide attempt in her past, she knew she needed to reach out for help. She was receiving professional support on a regular basis, but at 1 a.m. she couldn’t reach anyone.

In the middle of the night, only a Crisis Centre responder was available to help.

The caller was dealing with severe postpartum depression. She felt isolated and angry and depressed. She was afraid she could hurt herself.

Raj recognized how delicate this particular call was and focused on helping her find ways to cope better in the moment and make it through the night. Over the phone, Raj provided a safe space in which her fears, failures, trauma, and shame could be acknowledged. He validated her conflict, and also her hopes for herself and her child.

Raj started volunteering at the Crisis Centre in September 2015. For him, every call is unique. The experience of talking to a person in distress varies greatly from person to person. Even so, Raj knows that holding a safe space for callers to share their reality gets people through to the next day, and that’s a powerful thing for another person to do.