Existing

It's a good thing.

Some of you may know about my new job, some may not. I've avoided going public with the nature of my work because it's one of those jobs, you know? The kind where everyone is a bit fascinated but no one wants to hear the real answers to their questions. It's turning out, however, that I can't vent without revealing why I'm venting--I'm no good at veiled.

So, here goes. At the moment I am a 9-1-1 operator. I spend my shifts answering all kinds of calls, helping dispatch officers and fire/medical assistance. My particular county is huge and, in places, remote so the job has a high degree of variety. I love it. More than I've loved just about any other job. Totally high stress when I'm there and then I can walk out the door and leave it all behind.

Most of it anyway.

The thing that stays with me is the people and my occasional inability to significantly improve their lives. Most people call for something and I can get help there pronto. That's an excellent feeling. Some people call me for help and there is not a dang thing I can do. Less good. The worst?

When people call, there is something I can do, and they don't allow me to do it.

The. pits.

Suicidal calls are rare, of course, but terrible. Tonight we had our yearly quota. I won't tell you about them specifically, I can't. And I wouldn't, really, because there is no reason for you to have to have that in your mind. But I will tell you that there is nearly nothing in the world that can't be overcome. I mean, really. When you're feeling like it's all too much, that there's no point? You're wrong. There's a point. And you're making a difference. There is no way you'll ever know how deleting yourself from the grand scheme of things will effect and affect other people--there's always someone who will miss you, who will feel the loss and the pain if you're gone.

I hope you'll believe me. And if you don't? If you're at the moment you can't take it any more? Seriously, call 9-1-1. Help is always available.