Volunteering for the Samaritans gave me back a sense of purpose
Losing her mother and her job as a top magazine editor left SUE PEART suffering anxiety and panic attacks last December. This year she will spend the festive season volunteering for the listening charity
‘Suddenly there was no reason to get up in the morning. I felt unanchored’
THE tree has been decorated, fairy lights twinkle at the window. Christmas cards are on display, presents wrapped.The pudding was made six weeks ago, the cake has been iced. Mulled wine warms on the stove and the smell of orange and cinnamon pervades.There’s a sense of calm and anticipation… the night before Christmas.
For most of us, Christmas means excitement and joy – it’s the time of year when families come together; a time of laughter and love. But that joy is spiked with sadness too – the piquant sense of time passing, of people we love growing older and slipping through our fingers.
It’s the one moment of year when the frenzied busyness of life takes a pause; when we reflect on a year drawing to a close, recall happy times gone by and remember people dear to us who may no longer join us around the Christmas table.
For me, this Christmas will be particularly bittersweet. It is exactly one year since I lost my mother.The image of her tiny coffin being carried into the church as the mournful tones of a Scottish piper pierced the bitter cold of a December afternoon will be etched on my memory always – Christmas joy forever intertwined with the sadness of losing the one person who had my back for a lifetime.
I’ll be thinking of my mum as I slip away briefly from the family later today. It won’t be a last-minute dash to the supermarket for a jar of cranberry sauce; I’ll be heading towards an unprepossessing office building tucked away behind a busy shopping thoroughfare in the depths of south London.
I’ll exchange Christmas greetings with my fellow volunteers there, make myself a cup of tea and settle down in front of a computer screen. I’ll log on, slip headphones over my ears and press the key which indicates I’m ready to take calls.Three flashes will show on the phone and I’ll lift the receiver.
“Samaritans… Can I help you?” The first call on what I’m sure will be a busy shift.
If you’d told me a few years ago that this Christmas I’d be a fully-trained Samaritans volunteer with more than 40 shifts under my belt, preparing to join my colleagues taking calls, emails and face-to-face calls on each of the three days over Christmas (my choice – there is no pressure to do this), I wouldn’t have believed you.
Of course, I knew well enough that there are people out there who are struggling to cope, but – as a fortunate and glass-half-full person – I could never really imagine how that feels.
Then, a series of events in my own life changed my perspective. A painful divorce left me bewildered and bruised; three close family members died in quick succession, leaving the whole family reeling.
Through these events, my demanding job as an award-winning magazine editor gave me the strength to cope.The very business of getting up early in the morning and presenting to the office in smart clothes, with clean and glossy hair, un-laddered tights and a bright smile on my face helped me through the darkest moments of grief and loss. It gave me a sense of purpose that kept me going.
But then, a couple of years ago, changes at work led to my leaving the job I loved, which I had performed with some success for 25 years. Overnight, the structure in my life fell away, taking with it my sense of purpose and the wonderful team I worked with, who had become valued friends as the years went by.
Suddenly there was no reason to get up in the morning, no magazine to edit, no team to talk to – I felt unanchored, cast adrift in a vast ocean of the unknown. It was terrifying.
I began to suffer anxiety and panic attacks – sensations I’d had no experience of before. At that point, I suddenly understood the purpose of Samaritans. During the day, friends and family were fantastically supportive but night-time was another matter. For weeks, sleep was out of the question. For me, the talking therapies have always been the most effective but friends willing to lend an ear during the day were all asleep now.
At those times when things were at their darkest I would lie with my phone on the bedside table next to me, Samaritans’ number on the screen, primed and ready for me to press the green button. I never called but nor did I forget how reassuring it was to know they were there in my hour of need.
For that reason, as 2019 dawned, I signed on to train as a Samaritans volunteer.An interview followed, and a selection day, followed by 10 four-hour training modules. In the first week of April, I took my first call in the branch. Since then, I’ve completed – on average – one three-hour shift a week. Through Samaritans, I’ve found a whole new group of friends – people I’d never have met otherwise, people from all walks of life, all ages, all backgrounds.
We meet together, laugh, support one another and share one thing in common – the role we perform being there to listen to anyone who is struggling to cope. It is extraordinary work.
You don’t need particular qualifications to be a Samaritans volunteer – the main skill required is the ability to set aside your personal opinions and judgments, resist the urge to interrupt or offer advice and listen – actively listen – while a stranger tells you what’s troubling them. If you’d told me that listening with empathy to someone struggling could help them, I’d never have believed you. But it does.Talking through a problem can sometimes make it feel a little less overwhelming, a bit more bearable.
ONE of the things that has struck me while taking calls as a Samaritans volunteer is how quickly life can change.Things may be going fine, then suddenly they aren’t – and in the blink of an eye your whole life will change forever.
I think of the elderly woman who called one evening, lonely and isolated. She told me how, as a 31-year-old new mother, she suffered a brain aneurysm while fastening her baby into a pushchair.Years of rehabilitation followed. Her marriage imploded and she long ago lost touch with her child – now an adult, living who knows where. It was a sad story and my heart went out to her.
Six years ago, another of my callers had an enviable lifestyle. Married, with a house and a car in the drive, she ran her own burgeoning business. She was in peak fitness and feeling
that life couldn’t get much better.Then one day, while delivering a pitch to potential clients, she couldn’t remember what to say next. She had no idea where she was or what she was supposed to be doing.
A mental health condition was diagnosed and she was forced to give up work.The trappings of her lifestyle fell away and she ended up living on the streets. It was humbling to hear her story and to try to imagine the seismic change her life had undergone.
And then there are the bereaved, whose feelings of loss will inevitably be heightened at this time of family celebration.The caller, stunned by the sudden death of his son around whose care the caller’s whole life had revolved.After bravely coping with multiple disabilities for many years, the son had contracted a virus and succumbed within hours, leaving a gaping void of shock, grief and loss in his devoted father’s life.
For people who may have lost touch with friends and family – people for whom simply getting through each day is a challenge – death can sometimes seem a preferable option to the effort of going on living.
It is then that I hope they will reach out to Samaritans.We can’t magic away their problems but we can be there for them and we can listen – and sometimes, that can be the lifeline the caller needs.
As I sit down with my family to enjoy the evening together before tomorrow’s festivities begin, I’ll consider the many things I have to be grateful for
– I’ll light a special candle for all my callers – and for everybody who may be struggling this Christmas.
Call Samaritans for help any time on 116 123. Or email jo@samaritans.org to find details of your nearest branch, where you can talk to a trained volunteers face to face. Donate to the charity or volunteer at samaritans.org