Why I Still Pick Up the Phone
Why I Still Pick Up the Phone
I didn’t spring to life fully formed as a Samaritan.
Before I ever sat on the other side of that phone, I knew what it was like to need someone to listen.
Maybe that is why, almost a decade later, I still believe so deeply in the value of simply being there.
People often think listening is easy.
It isn’t.
Listening is not waiting for your turn to speak.
It is not fixing somebody.
It is not offering advice, telling them what you would do or desperately searching for the positive.
Sometimes you cannot make it better.
Sometimes there is no solution.
Sometimes the greatest gift you can give another person is the space to say, without judgement or interruption:
“This is how I really feel.”
That is what drew me to Samaritans.
I wanted to be part of something that said:
You do not have to carry this moment completely alone.
Over the years, I have listened to thousands of conversations.
Some desperately sad.
Some angry.
Some frightening.
Some unexpectedly funny.
Some lasting minutes.
Others much longer.
But every person at the other end of that phone has had one thing in common.
For that moment, they wanted to be heard.
There is something incredibly powerful about that.
We live in a world where everyone is talking.
We post.
Comment.
React.
Reply.
Scroll.
Yet I sometimes wonder whether we have ever been worse at truly listening to each other.
Real listening requires us to put ourselves to one side.
It means resisting the urge to fill every silence.
It means allowing someone to tell their story in their own words, at their own pace.
And it means understanding that you do not need to have lived someone’s life to acknowledge their pain.
Being a Samaritan has taught me more about people than I could ever fit into one Sunday essay.
It has taught me that pain does not discriminate.
That the person who appears to have everything together may be barely holding on.
And that you should never underestimate what someone may be carrying behind an ordinary face, an ordinary job, an ordinary day.
Most of all, it has taught me that being heard matters.
I cannot change somebody’s past.
I cannot promise them what tomorrow will look like.
I cannot fix their grief, their loneliness, their relationships or the circumstances that brought them to us.
But I can listen.
And sometimes, at the end of the line, that is enough to help somebody through the next five minutes.
The next hour.
Or the next night.
That is why I became a Samaritan.
And it is why, all these years later, I still pick up the phone.
Because listening might look like a small thing.
But sometimes small things matter more than we realise.
And if you ever reach the point where you need somebody to listen, remember:
We are right at the end of the line.
Need Someone to Listen?
If something in this piece resonates and you need someone to talk to, Samaritans are available day or night.
Call Samaritans free on 116 123.
You do not need to be suicidal to call. You can talk about whatever is getting to you, and a trained volunteer will listen without judgement or telling you what to do. Samaritans currently provides its UK support service by telephone and online chat; its UK email listening service closed on 30 September 2026.
REFLECTION TOPICS
Listening
Being heard
Human connection
Emotional support
Compassion
