I'm going to kill myself today.”
“What's wrong? Do you want to talk about it?” responded Sabrina Mohamed, an online supervisor who was manning the line that night at The Salvation Army's suicide prevention services in Hamilton, Ont.
“There was no preamble,” says Sabrina, describing the call, “so I knew it was going to be intense.”
The woman's suicide plan was chilling in its simplicity. “I have a loaded gun in my car,” the woman continued. “I'm going to drive to the police station and point my gun at an officer.” By threatening to shoot someone—anyone—the police would be forced to take action and end her life.
Sabrina had minutes to react. “For all I knew, the woman was blocks away from a police station. And, worse, I didn't even know where she was located, which police station she was headed to or even what city she was in.”
Sabrina realized she had to quickly establish a level of trust with the woman so that the caller could confide in her. “I wanted her to talk to me, to tell me what was going on in her mind, to know I was there for her,” she says. Through patient conversation, Sabrina helped the woman understand that she wasn't alone, and that her action might endanger the lives of innocent bystanders. She kept her on the line for precious minutes while her location was pinned down.
Moments later, Sabrina received a call from her police contact informing her that the woman had been safely apprehended.
A Proud Record
Calls like this are all in a day's work for The Salvation Army's suicide prevention services. “We're open 24 hours a day, 365 days a week,” says Stephanie Oliver, the director for the program. Manned by a full-time staff of five and a team of trained volunteers, the suicide-crisis line answered 3,491 calls in 2006, and not just from the Hamilton area. “Over the past year,” she states, “we've received calls from places far beyond what our normal catchment area would be.” Suicide calls were logged from such locations as Calgary, Baltimore, Ottawa and even Las Vegas.
The suicide-prevention team has a long-term vision of a Salvation Army hope line for the Canada and Bermuda Territory. Historically, there were Army suicide-prevention lines in every major city in Canada. Over time, however, it became difficult to find qualified personnel to man the phones. “It's one thing to be trained as a pastor,” explains Stephanie, “quite another to be involved in highly intense emergency situations.”
The Hamilton branch survived because Army personnel there were passionate community advocates who fought to keep the ministry alive. Stephanie became executive director in December 2003. As a certified member of the Ontario College of Social Workers and Social Services Workers, and a lifelong Salvationist, Stephanie had a wealth of expertise.
Stephanie's staff all have post-secondary education and training. “They've provided immediate intervention in some of the most extreme crises,” she notes, “at any time of the day and night.
“I like to refer to the crisis line as 'the silent ministry,' ” continues Stephanie, “because the team works quietly behind the scenes while the rest of the world is going about its daily business.”
Here is a snapshot of some of the thousands who have called for help:
• A young woman phoned as she waited to jump in front of an oncoming train.
• A man called from his 11th-storey balcony as he prepared to hang himself.
• A woman who had discovered her husband's same-sex affair contacted the suicide prevention line, intending to swallow a bottle of pain killers.
• At Christmastime, a couple whose only child had passed away telephoned from their garage, which was slowly filling with carbon-monoxide.
• A young woman who had just been sexually assaulted at a New Year's Eve party called from a pay phone, contemplating suicide so her parents wouldn't find out.
“All these people are still alive,” Stephanie reports. “thanks to the quick thinking of our staff!”
Somewhere to Turn
The effectiveness of the Hamilton hotline is borne out by the fact that many organizations and government services, such as the 1-800-O-Canada information line and the Canada Revenue Agency, direct distressed or suicidal callers to the Army's suicide prevention services. “We must be doing something right,” says Stephanie. “Our telephone number can be found in the front of local telephone books along with other frequently called emergency numbers.”
Last year, Stephanie represented the Canada and Bermuda Territory at the International World Congress on Suicide Prevention, held in Ireland. There, 800 delegates from 43 countries applauded the Army's suicide-prevention efforts. (William Booth created the first anti-suicide bureau in 1907.)
What motivates Stephanie and her staff? “When I tell people that I work for The Salvation Army's suicide crisis line, invariably, that is the first question they ask,” says Katie Siemon, on-call supervisor. Katie initially volunteered after losing a close friend to suicide. “I was determined that other people experiencing emotional distress would not have to suffer in silence as my friend did.” Over time, Katie's realized that without such a supportive counselling service, a great many people would have nowhere else to turn in their darkest hours. “There is a wonderful sense of relief and purpose that comes from knowing someone is alive because of you.”
“What's wrong? Do you want to talk about it?” responded Sabrina Mohamed, an online supervisor who was manning the line that night at The Salvation Army's suicide prevention services in Hamilton, Ont.
“There was no preamble,” says Sabrina, describing the call, “so I knew it was going to be intense.”
The woman's suicide plan was chilling in its simplicity. “I have a loaded gun in my car,” the woman continued. “I'm going to drive to the police station and point my gun at an officer.” By threatening to shoot someone—anyone—the police would be forced to take action and end her life.
Sabrina had minutes to react. “For all I knew, the woman was blocks away from a police station. And, worse, I didn't even know where she was located, which police station she was headed to or even what city she was in.”
Sabrina realized she had to quickly establish a level of trust with the woman so that the caller could confide in her. “I wanted her to talk to me, to tell me what was going on in her mind, to know I was there for her,” she says. Through patient conversation, Sabrina helped the woman understand that she wasn't alone, and that her action might endanger the lives of innocent bystanders. She kept her on the line for precious minutes while her location was pinned down.
Moments later, Sabrina received a call from her police contact informing her that the woman had been safely apprehended.
A Proud Record
Calls like this are all in a day's work for The Salvation Army's suicide prevention services. “We're open 24 hours a day, 365 days a week,” says Stephanie Oliver, the director for the program. Manned by a full-time staff of five and a team of trained volunteers, the suicide-crisis line answered 3,491 calls in 2006, and not just from the Hamilton area. “Over the past year,” she states, “we've received calls from places far beyond what our normal catchment area would be.” Suicide calls were logged from such locations as Calgary, Baltimore, Ottawa and even Las Vegas.
The suicide-prevention team has a long-term vision of a Salvation Army hope line for the Canada and Bermuda Territory. Historically, there were Army suicide-prevention lines in every major city in Canada. Over time, however, it became difficult to find qualified personnel to man the phones. “It's one thing to be trained as a pastor,” explains Stephanie, “quite another to be involved in highly intense emergency situations.”
The Hamilton branch survived because Army personnel there were passionate community advocates who fought to keep the ministry alive. Stephanie became executive director in December 2003. As a certified member of the Ontario College of Social Workers and Social Services Workers, and a lifelong Salvationist, Stephanie had a wealth of expertise.
Stephanie's staff all have post-secondary education and training. “They've provided immediate intervention in some of the most extreme crises,” she notes, “at any time of the day and night.
“I like to refer to the crisis line as 'the silent ministry,' ” continues Stephanie, “because the team works quietly behind the scenes while the rest of the world is going about its daily business.”
Here is a snapshot of some of the thousands who have called for help:
• A young woman phoned as she waited to jump in front of an oncoming train.
• A man called from his 11th-storey balcony as he prepared to hang himself.
• A woman who had discovered her husband's same-sex affair contacted the suicide prevention line, intending to swallow a bottle of pain killers.
• At Christmastime, a couple whose only child had passed away telephoned from their garage, which was slowly filling with carbon-monoxide.
• A young woman who had just been sexually assaulted at a New Year's Eve party called from a pay phone, contemplating suicide so her parents wouldn't find out.
“All these people are still alive,” Stephanie reports. “thanks to the quick thinking of our staff!”
Somewhere to Turn
The effectiveness of the Hamilton hotline is borne out by the fact that many organizations and government services, such as the 1-800-O-Canada information line and the Canada Revenue Agency, direct distressed or suicidal callers to the Army's suicide prevention services. “We must be doing something right,” says Stephanie. “Our telephone number can be found in the front of local telephone books along with other frequently called emergency numbers.”
Last year, Stephanie represented the Canada and Bermuda Territory at the International World Congress on Suicide Prevention, held in Ireland. There, 800 delegates from 43 countries applauded the Army's suicide-prevention efforts. (William Booth created the first anti-suicide bureau in 1907.)
What motivates Stephanie and her staff? “When I tell people that I work for The Salvation Army's suicide crisis line, invariably, that is the first question they ask,” says Katie Siemon, on-call supervisor. Katie initially volunteered after losing a close friend to suicide. “I was determined that other people experiencing emotional distress would not have to suffer in silence as my friend did.” Over time, Katie's realized that without such a supportive counselling service, a great many people would have nowhere else to turn in their darkest hours. “There is a wonderful sense of relief and purpose that comes from knowing someone is alive because of you.”
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