Just being more aware

I promised myself, when I started this blog last year, that I wouldn’t let a week pass by without writing a post. Ocht well, it’s been a busy two weeks! And, bearing in mind that the main purpose of the blog was to encourage me to write, I’ll let myself off as I’ve spent some of that time writing other bits and pieces (which are now filed away in my ‘maybe I’ll submit this to something someday’ folder!)

Rather than do a ‘did this, did that’ run-down of the past fortnight, I’m just going to mention one thing that sort of made me feel good. It might sound a bit weird that this thing made me feel good, but I’ll try my best to explain why.

A sense of raised awareness about any topic, I think, is no bad thing; even when that topic is a particularly harrowing one. At last week’s Samaritans Branch Meeting, a representative from Open Secret – a charity that provides support for adult survivors of childhood abuse - gave a presentation which not only described the range of services that they offer, but also made me so much more aware of the range of issues that survivors of abuse have to cope with. She also brought along a DVD, filmed by and featuring survivors themselves, which was simply heart-breaking. However, the overall message - that both the support worker who came to our meeting and the survivors on the DVD portrayed - was one of hope, and acknowledgement of the strength that can be gained through being listened to, being believed and being supported.

Our branch often invites along speakers; it not only encourages more SAMS to come to (the sometimes otherwise mundane) branch meetings, but it also helps in our role as volunteers. Last month we had a visit from a local Consultant Psychiatrist, along with a nurse who specialises in new therapies for mental health disorders, such as Bipolar and the like, and a few months ago we had a talk from a recovering alcoholic. All have been interesting, some have been difficult to listen to, but all have raised my awareness of some of the issues that some of the people who call Samaritans are having to deal with. Now, I should make it clear that I don’t think it’s at all essential that I have in-depth knowledge of these issues. After all, as the old saying goes, “there is a great difference between knowing and understanding: you can know a lot about something but not really understand it!”

SAMS are on the end of the phones to - first and very much foremost - offer emotional support. But I’m glad that the organisation encourages its volunteers to listen carefully not only to its callers, but to other agencies and support networks too; not so that we can become armed with knowledge, but just so that we can become a wee bit more aware of some of the many issues that callers have experienced, or are experiencing, in their lives.

As I said at the beginning of this post, maybe it sounds a bit weird that having a raised awareness of some of the really awful things that folk have to contend with is something to feel ‘good’ about; but it’s the idea that that raised awareness can help in a supporting role; that's what makes me feel good, not the awful thing itself.

I hope that made some kind of sense – this post’s been written in a bit of a rush while I’m procrastinating over an assignment for my course that’s due in soon. Part of the assignment involves reflecting on things I’ve become more aware of about myself over this past year – so, thank you blog for finding me a starting point... “One of the things that I’ve become more aware of is how difficult I sometimes find it to express why something makes me feel good......”

Lots of things in a busy weekend - and chatting to Des and Jennie!

I’ve got up this morning feeling happy knackered and looking forward to another busy week ahead.

Saturday was spent up in St Andrews with Gemma and Alex supporting Ross in the Scottish Uni Cross Country Championships. He had a brilliant run and I was so proud to see him coming in as a counter for the Strathclyde team – the cherry on the cake was a silver medal for his efforts! Being up there on Gemma’s ‘Uni’ home turf somehow made the day even more special and we really enjoyed spending time with her over a chatty lunch after the race. I was spoiled, having Gemma at home for a full week a couple of weeks ago, and the house has been feeling too empty ever since.

Saturday night was spent in Larbert singing with the choir at a gig to raise funds for Kidney Research. One of the girls in the choir, Pauline, had arranged the evening to celebrate a family success story. Her gorgeous wee niece had received the gift of a kidney from her own Dad - Pauline’s brother - just over a year ago. The night was made so much more special by being able to see a successful result of the fantastic work that renal units do every day. And, aw man, the Bellshill Sally Army Brass Band were playing too. I love the sound of a big brass band, but they were in a league of their own! Honest – they were brilliant! They did spine-tingling renditions of things like the music from Lion King, Andrew Lloyd Webber songs and the most beautiful version of My Love is Like a Red Red Rose. I don’t think there was a dry eye in the hall. I never could’ve imagined that I would write a blog post about how good it made me feel to be sharing a stage with the Salvation Army on a Saturday night! I love life’s unexpected moments of lovliness! Great car-chat on the way home with my buddy, Christine, topped off a fabulous night.

Most of Sunday was spent in front of the computer doing some work for a charity placement scheme I’m applying for, but I had a lovely break from it in the afternoon to sing with the choir at the switching on of the Christmas lights in Stirling. Annie had been told, by the organisers, that only a few people could stand up on the stage so my wee section – the low harmony group – were up there, undercover, with Annie. It felt really weird looking over to the rest of the choir - standing in a cordoned off area outside in the intermittent rain - and just not being all together. As ever, we just all got on with it and Annie made sure we made the best of a difficult arrangement – it certainly can’t have been easy for her, having to coordinate us all while we were spread all around. However, as professional as ever, she just got on with it and made the very best of the difficult situation. We always sing live, with no recorded backing tracks or anything like that, and that can sometimes make things much more testing – especially in an outside environment, or when there aren’t enough microphones provided – but if the Heart of Scotland choir are asked to perform, they perform live. That can make the performance technically much more challenging, but Annie and Jane are never afraid to meet those challenges head on.

It was the first gig that Ross has made it along to. I felt so great when I saw him standing there, out in the rain, looking knackered (he’d had a late night out celebrating the events of the day before with his running pals), supporting his auld maw doing her wee thing. And, he’d really enjoyed it -even with the sound issues at some points during our set - he heard enough to give us a big seal of approval! To round off the excitement, I had a hug and a chat with Des and Jennie!! You know who I mean? They do the Breakfast Show on Capital Radio. Anyway, when we came down off the wee stage, they were standing waiting to go on. I made a bit of an arse of myself (remember, the endorphins are always flowing when you sing, so I was a wee bit over-excited!) by being a wee bit over-zealous in my chat to them, but they were really lovely and humoured me by chatting and telling me they thought the choir sounded brilliant! Feeling brave with the confidence that feeling great gives you, I said, “Aw, that’s so great! I’m so glad you liked it. So, when can we come on your show then?” Des told me to email him the details and, as long as we could sing something modern, he’d see what he could do! Ocht, maybe he was just humouring me, but it was so nice of him to spend the time to chat! I had a bit of a mild panic later, thinking about how it’s not my place to go telling folk we’ll perform for them – but hopefully Annie and Jane didn’t mind too much – especially if we do manage to get a wee slot on Capital, or even a wee plug for our concert in a few weeks at the Albert Halls in Stirling! (10th of December, if you’d like to come along!)

Back at home, a nice meal with the family (except Gemma) followed by the completion – in the wee small hours – of my placement application topped off a really great weekend. I’m heading out for a busy day of bits and bobs shortly, but first, I think I’ll send that email to Des and Jennie – just in case they were serious about having a wee visit from a great choir with a big heart to their studios. And, let’s face it, nothing ventured......

Enjoying being a SAM

During last night’s twilight shift at Samaritans, me and my fellow on-duty SAM were chatting about how difficult it sometimes is to think of the best way to describe how being a Samaritan makes us feel. 

When anyone asks me, “So how is it, working for Samaritans?”, I usually respond with a cheerful, “Oh, I really enjoy it!”.... Before the words have even dropped out of my mouth, I already have a sense that the person asking the question is going to raise their eyebrows and be a wee bit surprised by my answer! However, if I’m being totally honest, that really is how I feel.  

Last night, after leaving the house at 10, I really did enjoy spending 4 hours in the wee duty room; blethering to my colleague, catching up on some SAMS reading material, answering the phones and just being there for callers. I also enjoyed the drive home; I love that middle-of-the-night thing of belting out my favourite playlist to a deserted (give or take the odd Eddie Stobbart lorry) M9! And, because the house was baltic when I got home, I thoroughly enjoyed crawling in beside - and getting a sleepy hug from - a very cosy Alex! 

According to my big Chambers dictionary, the definition of enjoy is: “to find pleasure in something; to experience, and have the benefit of, something good”.

So, I guess that settles it then; I really do very much enjoy being a Samaritan.

Coming out....

I’ve mentioned a few times that I do some voluntary work through in Falkirk on a fairly regular basis but I’ve never actually said what that work involves. However, last night I was really chuffed when I was presented with a wee certificate that signals the end of nine months as a trainee and marks my accreditation as a fully qualified Samaritan.

It’s not all that long since SAMS weren’t encouraged to reveal to anyone – apart from their families – what they were doing when they skulked off into the night (or day, or early morning!) for a shift. But sensibly, in my opinion, that’s all changed and the decision whether or not to disclose their Samaritan status is very much left up to the individual volunteer. Only my family and a few of my friends knew that I was training to be - then working under supervision as - a Samaritan, but I’d always intended being totally open about it once I’d fully qualified. I think there’s far too much secrecy, stigma and hush surrounding the issue of emotional distress and mental health as it is; the more open we can all be about it, and the more we talk about the help that’s on offer - in my humble opinion - the better.

One of the arguments against ‘coming out of the closet’ as a SAM is that it might put friends or family members off phoning for fear of hearing a familiar voice. Well, the chances of that happening are extremely slim - mainly because callers aren’t always put through to their local branch and, if they were, there are so many different volunteers working so many different shifts that there’s only a pretty remote chance that the person answering the phone would be someone the caller knew. If it did happen, the person would be assured that their call would be treated with the utmost privacy and, of course, they would be offered the opportunity to speak to another volunteer. One of things that Samaritans pride themselves on is the complete and utterly confidential, safe space they provide for anyone who needs to talk.

Anyway, it is still a valid reason for some volunteers to choose to keep quiet about being a SAM, but it’s not reason enough for me. I think the positive aspects of being open about working as a Samaritan far outweigh the reasons for keeping it a secret.

One of the most important of these is the opportunity to spread the word that SAMS are just ordinary folk; ordinary folk from all walks of life who've been through a long – and pretty intense – training process, who will listen to people without judging, who won’t interrupt inappropriately and won’t offer their own experiences or opinions or advice, who won’t divulge anything to anybody outside of SAMS and will allow anyone - anyone at all - who’s feeling really low, or upset, or depressed, or confused, or worried, or sad, or is grieving, or is manic, or has financial problems ... well, I think you get the picture... the time and space just to talk. It’s a bit of an urban myth that it’s only people who are thinking about committing suicide that phone Samaritans. The vast majority of calls are from people who are in some sort of emotional distress, but only a relatively small percentage (20%) of those calls are from people who are already either actively suicidal or  are having suicidal thoughts. The idea is to, hopefully, help prevent some people actually getting to that stage just by lending an ear.

So, these ordinary folk – who aren’t there as doctors or psychoanalysists or financial advisors or bereavement counsellors or any other kind of specialist – basically just offer a friendly (though well-trained) ear. It’s been shown time and again that listening to someone, unconditionally, can help to reduce their distress; no matter what kind of state of mind they’re in. Offering a friendly ear (that isn’t linked to any kind of religious organisation – another urban myth surrounding the Samaritans) is precisely what the Samaritans do, twenty four hours a day, seven days a week – and it makes me feel great, after a lot of training, mentoring and building up of experience, to be able, at last, to call myself a fully qualified SAM.

Oh, by the way, once I step out of that duty room, I’m just plain Jane again; so, there may well be times that I don't give my full attention to a story, or times that I inappropriately interrupt when someone’s pouring their heart out, and I might even glaze over when someone goes on a bit (sorry Alex!) - for all of that, I apologise in advance! But, I do like to think that what drew me to Samaritans in the first place - being told that I'm a good listener and wanting to put that to good use - will always be with me to some extent, both inside the duty room and out!