The Call I’ll Never Forget: What Happens When Someone on the Brink Dials Your Number
Last Tuesday, I answered a number I normally wouldn’t.
I had a session on my calendar, but the client didn’t show. My phone rang—unknown number. I hesitated. Something told me to pick up.
“Hello, is this Cindy Finch?”
“Yes, it is.”
Silence.
Then a low sob. Not the kind people make when they want attention. The kind they make when they think no one’s listening.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
A voice, barely audible: “I… I think so. I just hung up with the suicide hotline. They gave me a link to a therapist directory. Your name came up first. And… you looked kind. So I called.”
Let me pause right here. If that sentence doesn’t stop you in your tracks, read it again.
She didn’t call because I was the best. Or because I had a million credentials. She called because I looked kind.
That’s what people look for when they’re barely holding on.
I told her I was glad she called. That I don’t usually answer random numbers. That something bigger must have wanted us to connect.
She had just lost her job—22 years. Just like that, gone. She felt useless. Heavy. Like a burden.
We talked for 20 minutes. She told me she hadn’t eaten in two days. That she’d thought of a few ways to end her life. That she didn’t want to hurt anyone, but she didn’t want to hurt anymore either.
She wasn’t broken. She was exhausted.
So I did what I always do in the presence of holy ground: I told the truth. I gave her resources. I told her the awkward facts and the spiritual ones. I offered dignity and data. And then, I gave her six reasons to stay. (We’ll get to those in a second.)
We even laughed. Yes, laughed. And when the call ended, she agreed to live—for now. She promised to eat. To reach out again. To stay.
I haven’t heard from her since. But I haven’t stopped praying for her either.
Why This Story Matters More Than Ever
Because there are thousands more just like her.
Because maybe you’ve felt this way.
Because I’ve sat across from strong, smart people who never thought they’d consider ending it… until they did.
And because the truth is: we are in a national emotional emergency. But most of us are still pretending it’s fine.
Mental health professionals will tell you there are four building blocks of psychological safety, and right now, all four are cracked:
1. Community
We’re still reeling from isolation. The places we used to belong now feel foreign—or gone.
2. Structure
Our daily rhythms—school, work, even traffic—used to provide scaffolding for the day. Now? We float.
3. Meaningful Work
A job is never just a job. It’s identity. Purpose. Provision. When we lose that, it shakes our foundation.
4. Movement
When your spirit is heavy, moving your body feels impossible. But without movement, everything stagnates.
Add grief. Add financial strain. Add the background noise of the world burning. It’s no wonder so many people feel like they’re unraveling.
What I Told Her (And What I’d Tell You)
Here’s what I shared in those sacred 20 minutes—what I’d whisper to anyone on the edge:
1. Suicide is contagious.
Your pain might end, but it will start in someone else. Especially those who love you most.
2. Your legacy will be rewritten.
No matter how bright your life has been, suicide will overshadow the rest. Don’t let that be your last sentence.
3. You won’t always feel like this.
Feelings are weather. Depression is a thunderstorm. Let it pass. Don’t build a permanent solution in a temporary storm.
4. We don’t know what comes next.
You think it’ll be silence, but we don’t know that. What if your pain doesn’t end? What if you get another shot—here—instead?
5. The best chapter might be next.
So many people’s transformation begins at the bottom. Maybe this isn’t the end. Maybe it’s the starting line.
+1: You’ll poop your pants.
Yep. Death is messy. Literally. I told her this and we laughed. Sometimes, absurdity is what breaks the spell.
And sometimes, that’s all it takes.
The Bravest Thing You Can Do Is Talk About It
We keep pretending suicide is rare. That it’s taboo. That only “those people” think that way.
But here’s the truth: talking about it saves lives.
So let’s talk about it. In kitchens. On walks. In break rooms. In text messages. At the dinner table. Without shame.
And if you or someone you love is struggling:
Call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-TALK (8255)
Text HOME to 741741 for 24/7 free support
Or walk into any ER and say, “I’m not okay.”
Maybe This Isn’t the End. Maybe It’s the Beginning.
There’s a thing called post-traumatic growth. It’s when the worst chapter of your life becomes the soil where the truest parts of you begin to grow.
Maybe the job loss isn’t your undoing. Maybe it’s your unveiling.
Maybe the pain isn’t proof you should go. Maybe it’s proof you’re still here. Still human. Still becoming.
So let’s keep becoming. Let’s keep talking. Let’s stay.
With you,
Cindy
