From Chaos to Compassion: How Trauma Shaped My Path to 911

Written by Casey A. Rives

It wasn’t until I stepped away from the headset that I finally recognized the depth of my impact as a 911 dispatcher. Not only the significance of what I had contributed, but also the significance of what I had carried from my experiences.

I graduated from college during a recession, and the chances of landing my ‘dream’ job felt slim – though at 20, I’m not sure many of us even know what that dream job is. Finding your passion in a career is discovered through experience and recognizing what feels meaningful. I just knew I wanted to help people, and although I had no idea what a 911 dispatcher did – the job listing had a good starting salary, great benefits, and I figured it was a stepping stone into something bigger. I never expected that the job I thought was a stepping stone would become a meaningful career that shaped me in ways I am only now beginning to understand.

For some of us, a career in public safety isn’t just a job – it’s a calling shaped by something deeper.

Growing up in a home shaped by instability, I learned early on how to read people’s tones, predict moods, and keep things calm – skills that would later serve me well in a 911 center. The skills I developed out of survival became instincts no training could ever replicate.

Those early childhood experiences didn’t just make me resilient; they trained my nervous system to stay on high alert. I became wired to manage chaos and de-escalate tense situations. Entering the world of 911 didn’t feel overwhelming; it felt familiar and gave me purpose. Perhaps this sounds familiar to those of you reading this, and I’d argue that the ‘average’ person would find 911 to be rather stressful, so in general, we are built differently.

In this new world of 911, I found myself walking people through the worst moments of their lives with a calm voice and steady instructions. It was a job I loved, but I never stopped to ask why I was so drawn to it. Experiencing personal trauma can cultivate empathy, guiding people toward careers focused on helping and healing. Trauma survivors often dedicate their lives to preventing others from experiencing the same.

I transitioned to the private sector in 2021, and it took over a year to adjust to the calm. I didn’t know how to exist without the constant highs and lows, the emotional adrenaline, the constant noise.

About six months into my new career, I had a sudden emotional breakdown. It wasn’t tied to anything specific; it was instead a random burst of emotions. It wasn’t until I stepped away from dispatch that I truly realized the emotional weight I had been carrying. Every tear that fell that night was a call I buried inside me, a call I didn’t even remember because I picked up the next one and kept going. Every call, every emergency, every trauma layered itself on top of the ones I had never fully processed from my own life.

Why did it take me walking away to recognize the pain I had experienced and the impact of the calls I had taken – the people I saved or the lives I heard that were lost

Those in public safety often experience compassion fatigue, and while I am not a mental health professional– I think that compassion fatigue begins with a lack of compassion for ourselves.

I once sat with a therapist who asked me to share a traumatic childhood memory, in an attempt to validate and process it. I shared a story that occurred when I was about six or seven, but I recounted the experience with such detachment and no emotional release. To me, it was a situation that occurred so long ago and no longer affected me. The therapist followed up by asking me to picture my own son living through that same experience. In that moment, through tears, I finally validated that what I went through was something I would never want my own child to endure. I had lived my life never offering myself compassion – not for what I saw as a child, and not for what I experienced as a 911 dispatcher.

And isn’t that so many of us?

We show up for everyone else. We answer every call. We guide others through their pain. But when it comes to our own healing, we minimize it. We brush it off. We tell ourselves we’re fine. Until one day, we’re not.

Recently, I spoke at a 911 conference and shared my story in a session that felt far more personal than most I have given. In a full-circle moment, I looked out into the audience and realized that among the attendees, there were call takers and dispatchers from the very agencies that once answered my call, back when I was a scared little girl in need of calm reassurance.

I don’t share any of this to say you have to leave the profession to heal. Quite the opposite. I share it because I want us to talk about the connection between personal trauma and vicarious trauma. I want us to stop viewing our own mental health as something to ignore or power through. We show up to answer the call on someone’s worst day; we need to ensure we are also showing up to show ourselves compassion.

As someone who now supports the work of 911 from the other side of the headset, I look at those of you still answering the calls with more pride and admiration than ever before. When I sat next to you, under the headset – we were in that moment together, but now that I have time to sit back, I am constantly amazed at all that you do.

I know this is a job that is unseen and lacks the acknowledgement you deserve. Despite how many times you are told not to say it, many of you still describe yourselves as ‘just’ a dispatcher. Please know, you are so much more. You are a lifeline – to citizens in crisis, officers in the field, firefighters racing into a burning building, and to the colleagues beside you at your agency.

There aren’t enough words to thank you for what you do – for showing up, for sacrificing holidays and sleep, for carrying the weight of calls that never leave. You know the haunting silence that comes after you realize you were the last voice someone ever heard, and please don’t take that lightly – give yourself compassion for all that you do.

Because you matter. Your story matters. And healing is possible—even for the helpers.

I want to thank 911der Women for creating a space that offers community and connections for the first responders. Reach out to your peers, we are all fighting the same fight, and we are all family.

For additional free resources, please check out the NENA Wellness Continuum - https://www.nena.org/general/custom.asp?page=wellnesscontinuum

Thank you, Casey for sharing your experience with us. If you are interested in writing a blog, please email amanda@911derwomen.com. Sign up for our newsletter on our homepage to stay up to date with 911der Women programming, exclusive content and blog updates. Click here and scroll to the bottom.