A hug from a favourite SAM

I’ve shed a fair few tears over the course of this past couple of days. There are a fair few reasons for those tears, but the main one is the emotional turmoil that's come hand-in-hand with the decision I made to give up my role as a Samaritan.

It’s not a decision I’ve made lightly; I’ve mulled over it for the past few weeks and I’m now content that it was the right decision to make. I’ve been struggling a lot with time recently and I’ve been feeling that some of the things I was committed to weren’t getting the due care and attention they deserved. I don’t feel right about listing all of the reasons why my role as a SAM was the thing that I, eventually, chose to give up. Suffice to say it wasn’t an easy decision and I sincerely hope to return to the organisation sometime in the future. I’m still just as passionate about trying to help people, and their families, who are affected by suicide or suicidal thoughts (have I mentioned that suicide is the biggest killer of young men under the age of 35 in the UK?), but I won’t be doing it as a SAM for the foreseeable future.

I’ve been totally overwhelmed by the lovely, and very touching, messages I’ve been receiving from my fellow SAMS (hence the fair few tears!) and their kind words have really brought it home to me just how much I’m going to miss sharing their company on weekly shifts. Quiet shifts presented a great opportunity to get to know your fellow on-duty SAM, and one of the biggest perks of being a Samaritan volunteer is having access to a bucket-load of compassionate and attentive colleagues to share your worries with – in complete confidence! I’ve met some truly amazing and inspirational people in that wee Falkirk branch office and it was just lovely to see one of them sitting out in the reception area at the hospice this morning! Margaret has been volunteering as a Samaritan for many, many years and I thoroughly enjoyed our shifts together. She’s the first to admit that she’s straight-talking and she's certainly never slow in giving her very experienced opinion – and sometimes in no uncertain terms! I remember one of my first shifts with her. About half way through the shift, I lifted the phone off the hook and told her that I was just nipping to the loo:

“Ocht, that would never have happened in the old days!”, she quipped.

“What would never have happened in the old days Margaret?”, I asked, with my legs crossed.

“We used to do much longer shifts and we always made sure we went to the toilet before we started on duty. We just wouldn’t have taken the phone off the hook for a wee thing like going to the toilet!”

“But we’re allowed to do that Margaret; I remember it from training. And, I’m bursting...”

“Well on you go then! I’m not saying don’t go, I’m just saying you should’ve gone before you started your shift!”

I smiled as I nipped into the loo, thinking about all the times I’ve said to my kids over the years, “Make sure you go to the toilet before we leave/take our seats/get in the car/get on the plane....”.

That was just one little pearl of wisdom that Margaret offered me; there were many more (mostly on a more serious note than this) and I’ll treasure them all. It was just so lovely to see her this morning and share a hug. She was in the hospice to buy tickets for a fundraising event and was telling me that she spent some time yesterday morning reading my wee blog from start to finish! That just about sums up her stamina and dedication to any task in hand!

She tells me that she’s going to keep up with my blog from now on so, Margaret, I salute you! You’re an absolute treasure and I’ll miss you loads. And, I promise, no matter what lies ahead and in whatever role I find myself in in the future; I’ll always make sure I go to the loo before I start...........