As loneliness grows, so too do the calls to Lifeline

When Lifeline volunteer Jo picks up the phone to help someone in a crisis, she often thinks about when she was the caller on the other end of the line. She phoned the helpline once about 15 years ago and that conversation had an enormous impact on her life. "I know how awful and desperate you can feel in those moments," Jo told AAP. "I called them one evening when I was feeling really suicidal and I really wanted to die. "They were able to talk me, I guess, back to a place where I didn't want to die." The psychology student and mum of two cradled a cup of tea in her hands during a break between calls at Lifeline Naarm headquarters, a bright, open-plan office overlooking one of the many curves of the Yarra River in inner Melbourne. About one million Australians reach out to Lifeline by phone, text or online chat every year, with a record-breaking 4200 calls nationally some days. About 10,000 volunteers answer calls with oversight and support from paid staff in 43 offices nationwide. They must be ready to speak to anyone, anywhere, about anything. "It varies - you could have calls from someone that just wants to share the sermon about Jesus for 10 minutes and so you have to listen," volunteer Arnaud explained. "Then the next call will be a young person with a knife in their hands having thoughts of suicide." The former photographer and myotherapist said callers could be experiencing any version of a crisis and although many wanted answers, volunteers were there to listen and connect them with support. "Very often people want solutions but we don't have solutions," he said. "We're just here to sort of carry people's complexities." Demand for Lifeline services jumped by 40 per cent at the start of the COVID-19 pandemic and has stayed at that level since with one pervasive theme - loneliness. "I'm surprised by the loneliness epidemic in this country," former education and training worker Angela said. "The number of people who do not feel that they can reach out to friends and family to support them and feel that their only option is to call an anonymous helpline." Eight or nine people die by suicide in Australia every day, which is more than the road toll. About three-quarters are men, with suicide the leading cause of death in people aged 15 to 24 - although the largest increase in suicides in 2021-22 was in women aged 70 to 74. Angela has noticed a lot of older people in particular feel isolated and many who reach out do so with a sense of not wanting to impose or burden anyone. "We were talking about the cliche that it takes a village to raise a child and I almost kind of wonder if it takes a village to adult," she said. "I sometimes wonder whether we might all be able to take a moment to put our phones down for a little bit and to try to engage with the people in our community. "Be a little bit less afraid to say hello and to strike up those more informal, organic kinds of conversations because I think that they can support people who are experiencing a little bit of social isolation and loneliness." Angela, whose cousin died by suicide, wants all Australians to know they are never entirely alone, particularly with 24-hour support at the helpline. "Our hand is always open to you," she said. "Don't be afraid of kind of reaching out to try and hold on to our hand," she said. "You don't need to go through this alone." Many volunteers such as Jo, Arnaud and Angela are psychology and counselling students who want to give back as they gain professional skills. Others do it for different reasons. "I've never come away from a shift where I haven't felt a bit uplifted," retired political journalist Amanda said. "It could be that you're talking to people who are going through things that you couldn't even imagine and they're finding strength." She wants to see more people from different walks of life volunteer and believes her work prepared her well as each conversation requires effective listening and communication skills. "In journalism, the phone can ring and you'll be off doing anything," she said. "There's a press conference and the prime minister is resigning - you just never know and that is a little bit like Lifeline," she said. "You pick up the phone, take a deep breath and anything could happen." While calls have increased in recent years, the volunteer of about eight years said people raised the same issues as before. "It's going to be personal relationships or it's going to be homelessness, or it's going to be matters of the heart and loneliness," she said. "I don't particularly feel that they're particularly different from before the lockdown." Lifeline Narrm in Richmond is one of nine centres in Victoria and is on track to be one of the biggest offices in the nation 12 months after opening, with about 38 per cent of all calls made from Victoria. The national body receives federal government funding, but chief executive Carrie Leeson said the newest Melbourne office was established privately. She has been pushing for Victorian government funding as she said the NSW government subsidised its state services to "the tune of a few million dollars". "The perception is that we are fully funded because the service is so vital," Ms Leeson said. "Not one cent comes to Narrm. "We've set up in good faith because the need is there; Victorians have been struggling." A spokesperson for the Victorian government said work was under way to make all forms of care more accessible, including a $6 billion investment to implement recommendations from the state's royal commission into the mental health system. "We value the important work of Lifeline in supporting the mental health and wellbeing of the Victorian community," they said. There are about 100 active call takers at the Richmond office with more in training but the service still needs volunteers in a variety of roles nationally. Ms Leeson said the only requirement was that people had empathy and time, as everyone received 90 days of accredited training across a year. "We're really looking for individuals on a very high level who want to leave their community better than they found it, have the time, and the training provides the rest," she said. Jo recently finished the rigorous accreditation course and said while her experience helped her connect with callers, the specialist training changed how she spoke to loved ones. "I cringe at some of the conversations I must have had before with my daughter, with other friends and family in my life, when they're just in a bad state," she said. "I can see the training they've given us going beyond any volunteering I do at Lifeline and continuing to help me for the rest of my life. "I've really gained life skills that will help me forever." Lifeline 13 11 14 beyondblue 1300 22 4636 Kids Helpline 1800 55 1800 (for people aged 5 to 25)