by JD Schramm
(NAPSI)—The first time I heard about Crisis Text Line was when one of my students shared information about this mental health support service in one of my strategic storytelling classes . I doubted that a text messaging service, provided entirely by trained volunteers, could make a difference in people’s lives. Still, I was intrigued and curious. The first time I contacted Crisis Text Line, texting 741741 from my iPhone, it was Thanksgiving 2019. I had just lost one of my best friends to a brain tumor. My husband and I decided it was too expensive for me to go home for the funeral. That’s when my grief started to set in. I was really struggling. My own depression, which I had been dealing with since my teenage years, was “giving me another nudge.” Then add in the pressures of the holidays, arguing over trivial matters with my family, and trying to keep the kids occupied and away from their devices – I was at the end of my rope that day. Without anyone else in the house knowing, I reached out my hand and a complete stranger helped me to a quiet place. That was all I needed at that moment. I felt sheepish for “taking their time” when others had more pressing problems. The volunteer assured me that my needs mattered too.
A few times over the next month I reached out again and it was a lifeline for me during the holidays, which was, for me, a time of stress, loss, and confusion. It was the shock I needed to be present for those I loved and take care of my own mental health with methods I knew worked for me.
Another year passed; the year we all remember being cooped up inside due to COVID. With so much focus on the mental health crisis that has accompanied the pandemic, my thoughts have returned to Crisis Text Line and the difference they have made for me during this difficult time. Can I provide the same help to others?
I applied and was accepted to train as a volunteer crisis counselor. As a communications teacher for over 20 years, I was surprised to have so much to learn.
All my work was about the power of public speaking and here those gifts were not required. I resisted the first lesson on listening skills, thinking, “What is there to hear in a text conversation?” I was so wrong; in fact, there was a lot to hear, but not with my ears. I was exposed to a whole new experience of communicating through text messaging and the power it held, especially for young people who had grown up with the medium.
The hardest part for me was learning to listen and not offer advice from my years of experience. Instead, I learned to ask thoughtful questions, help the texter understand patterns, and move from hot to calm. In spring 2021, I completed my training and overcame my own feelings of inadequacy and fear. I became the stranger on the other end of the conversation and began to see how I too could be useful to others.
Now I’ve come full circle from when I first dialed 741741. Most Friday nights, once my kids are in bed, I log in and take four to six hours of texting with strangers at bedtime. the greatest need. Last month I completed my 500th conversation on the platform. While I believe I have helped others, what is clearest to me is how much volunteering in this way has changed me. I listen better. I’m slower to give advice and instead look for ways to help others find their solution. I now know a ton of resources on a wide range of mental health topics, but I only offer them when it feels appropriate. What people need most is empathy, my presence and connection, not my experience or wisdom.
Admittedly, I had my doubts when my student first spoke about the power of texting between strangers to reduce depression, anxiety, and loneliness. Now I’m convinced that text messages can and do make a difference, one conversation at a time. It’s humbling to admit I was wrong, but it’s encouraging to see week after week how helpful text messages are. Ironically, the same device that has the power to sometimes isolate us from others can also bring us closer together.
• Mr. Schramm is a mental health advocate, speaker and writer. He is on the faculty of USC’s Annenberg School of Communication and regularly writes a newsletter, Communication issues. His 2011 TED talk, Breaking the silence for survivors of suicide attempts, has been viewed more than 2 million times. He and his husband, Rev. Ken Daigle, reside in Marin County with their three children.
