September was National Suicide Awareness Month—a time when people across the country learn steps to prevent suicide, for themselves and those around them. But the conversation about mental health doesn’t start and stop with a calendar. It matters every day, at every hour.
Every day in the United States, more than 133 people die by suicide, and over 1.5 million attempts are made each year. It’s a topic many avoid because it’s heavy, emotional, and sometimes uncomfortable. But the more people understand it, the more lives can be saved.
When someone is in crisis—whether it’s themselves or someone they care about—help is available. Dialing 988 connects a caller to a local trained crisis specialist who can guide them through that moment. At the Georgia Crisis and Access Line (GCAL), specialists receive between 600 and 900 calls a day, and as many as 5,700 calls a week—each one different, each one a chance to help. The work these specialists do is quietly heroic: a few words, a listening ear, or a steady presence on the phone can support a mother, a child, a sibling, or a friend in ways that are hard to measure.
The Atlanta Voice recently spoke with Lydia Damte, a crisis referral specialist, about what her work really looks like—the emotional weight, the preparation, and the moments of hope. Even in the most heart-wrenching situations, she finds ways to support, guide, and sometimes save lives.
What motivated you to become a Crisis Referral Specialist?
I’ve worked in healthcare pretty much my whole career. I started as a nursing assistant and later worked with nonprofits focused on mental health and unsheltered communities. I’ve always cared about public health and helping people reach their full potential. Seeing so many people fall through the cracks is what pushed me toward public health. I want to be that bridge—helping people feel seen, heard, and connected to the care they need.
What’s the hardest part about the job?
I think one of the hardest situations is when we get calls from parents or schools about a child who is hearing voices or expressing thoughts of harming themselves. That always shakes me up. It’s heartbreaking—hallucinations, delusions, paranoia are difficult for anyone, but for a child, it’s especially devastating. Even talking about it now makes me a little emotional.
When I work with these kids, I like to talk to them directly whenever possible. I ask if I can speak to them and gently ask questions to understand what they’re experiencing. Hearing their small, sweet voices describing something so serious—it’s hard. That kind of case is definitely the toughest.
When a teen or minor reaches out to themselves, we handle it with extra care. We always try to involve a parent or guardian while still addressing the child’s immediate needs. Safety and support are always the priority.
Do you have a personal anecdote that drove you to help people?
Yes, actually—it happened a long time ago. I had just turned 12. My family is from Ethiopia, and when I visited, I saw so many people living in really hard conditions. Some were traveling to other countries to work as servants just to support their families.
I remember asking my dad why these girls—some around my age—were working. He told me they were from rural areas, leaving home to work abroad. That moment really stayed with me. I remember thinking, how can people not find work in their own country and have to leave everything behind just to survive?
From that age, I realized how many people fall through the cracks—how unseen they are. These girls weren’t in school; they weren’t getting opportunities. Meanwhile, I was going to school, playing sports, and living comfortably. I still think about their faces to this day. That experience opened my eyes to inequality and made me want to help people live healthier, more stable lives.
What protocol do you all follow when receiving calls?
We have something we call the “Big Five,” and we screen every caller for suicidal ideations, homicidal ideations, psychosis, substance abuse, and interpersonal relationship violence.
How do you deal with high-risk calls?
First, I would say I feel like leadership has my back. I’m well-prepared, well-trained, so I don’t get flustered. Sometimes emotional, yes—people share really deep things, and my heart breaks. Sometimes it’s a tearjerker.
I always start my shift with a prayer. My faith is big, and I ask God for empathy, patience, and precision, because there’s so much going on behind the scenes. People might think I’m just answering a call, but I’m listening, taking notes, doing an assessment, screening for the Big Five, and identifying risk.
I also do self-care. I’m super active, I like to work out, and in between calls, I might wash my face, go for a walk, or take a shower. Touching water, feeling cool—it helps me reset. Starting with prayer, leaning on leadership, and doing something active or grounding keeps me in a good place, in a good space.
Do you have your own personal approach to answering calls?
Honestly, my personal approach is—I just, I don’t know—I have a lot of confidence. I don’t feel anxious, I feel very well-prepared, and I just treat the person like a friend. Like, I’m just having a conversation.
We have reviews, and I’ve had comments a couple of times saying, “You’re so chill.” I just treat them like a friend. This is a person who’s calling because they have nobody else to call—they’re in crisis, they need help. I don’t want to scare them or make things worse. I try to act cool and calm.
How do the hours work for the crisis line?
Anyone can call at any time, day or night, no matter the size of the crisis. Someone will answer.
How many calls do you get on average?
I know that in the month of August, I took about 592 calls.
What are some moments that really stuck with you?
Ironically, it’s not always the dramatic calls. Sometimes it’s someone calling to get back on their medications after four years, or looking for therapy. Just seeing someone advocate for themselves—it’s really powerful. That willingness to get help makes me proud.
What’s something about mental health people don’t often think about?
People often judge superficially. Like, someone might look like they’re “just abusing drugs,” but there’s usually more—childhood trauma, job loss, other struggles. Mental health is layered. Society can do better by being patient, avoiding judgment, and understanding the intersections of people’s experiences.