How one crisis line worker strives for inner peace
February 16, 2023 | Vignette by Emma Behrmann | Photo by Anderson Bobo
Editor’s note: This story contains mentions of suicide
The ringing of phones echoes through the Alachua County crisis center. Audrey McAnally reaches for the line that warrants her compassion.
The voice on the other end sounds familiar. A frequent caller. A sort of friend. This one is hard. She’s only 13, and she wants to end her life; a result of bullying and dismissive parents. But when she calls back, alive, McAnally’s sadness dissipates a little.
The lull of McAnally’s voice is validating. Calm but not monotone, it rolls through the speaker like waves that make for smooth sailing. But sometimes, the waves crash. Closure is often unattainable. Suicidal callers hang up, and drowning in guilt becomes dangerous. But McAnally continues, refusing to capsize.
You did the best you could, she must remind herself.
And sometimes the callers remind her of that, too.
McAnally picked up the phone one afternoon to the cries of a woman whose loved ones called her crazy. Distraught and convinced her partner was disloyal but unable to prove it, she clung to the phone for support.
“Your feelings are valid. You are not crazy,” McAnally reassured her. The woman broke down in relief.
A few hours later, the phone rang again. It was the same woman.
“You gave me the courage to confront my boyfriend,” she said.
There it was. A reminder. I helped. McAnally smiled.
Answering calls to 988, a suicide and crisis lifeline with more than 200 reception centers across the country, is not easy. But her Buddhist faith teaches McAnally to let go. To forgive herself. And to seek balance.
The confines of her childhood Catholicism failed to spark a spiritual connection, but a quest to self-improvement pivoted her toward another kind of spirituality. Now, she’s grounded. Reflective rather than reactive. Yet it wasn’t always this way.
Attending college at the University of Florida brought changes. She searched for a way to deal with the abrupt shift. She had never meditated before and was hesitant to take that first step into the temple. Inside, inclusivity and inner peace dissolved any doubts. Buddhism and meditation created a path to balance the tumult, and epiphanies abounded.
Hurt people hurt people.
There is no such thing as bad people, only lost people who often don’t understand how hurtful their actions are.
The energy you put out into the universe always comes back to you.
McAnally does not walk alone. Calls from those in need aid her self-improvement.
Conversations — more often than just listening to those who dial the lifeline — occupy her afternoons. But she doesn’t mind, because her heart knows she has put good into the world — Karma. Each ring promises a connection; an opportunity for compassion to ease someone’s suffering.
Between kava cups and meditation, biochemistry exams and campus study sessions, there is balance. Between assuring a woman her feelings in her relationship are valid and allowing a caller to vent for 15 minutes, there is balance. Between processing her own struggles and supporting friends, there is balance. In her work, she helps others in times of crisis. But often, these conversations with strangers benefit her as much as they benefit them.
This balance gifts perspective. Worries about grades recoil in the wake of conversations about abuse, self-harm and hatred. Grace for others grows from the harsh realities of people’s circumstances. Mindfulness manifests, and McAnally is grateful.
She finds happiness in knowing she did her best to make the world better. She finds peace in her journey. Compassion is her companion.
Emma Behrmann
Emma Behrmann is a writer with Atrium. She has previously written for the Independent Florida Alligator and edits for Her Campus UFL. In her free time, Emma loves to lift weights, go to concerts and travel, especially to national parks.