A Case Study: Lisa, a 911 Communications Operator and Police Spouse

By Suzz Sandalwood | Navigating the intersection of duty, identity, and relationship, where professional and personal worlds try to coexist

Written by Suzz Sandalwood | Seeking Veritas Columnist | Sankarsingh-Gonsalves Productions

Being in a relationship with a first responder means accepting certain truths. Nights spent alone, conversations cut short by exhaustion, the unspoken weight they carry from what they’ve seen. But when you’re also a first responder, just not the kind people picture in uniform, those truths become even more complicated.

This article examines the dynamics that sometimes exist for those that are 911 Communications Operators that are in relationship with other first responders. Through the fictional story of Lisa, a 911 Communications Operator, I will explore the often-overlooked emotional burden felt by those who navigate the stress of emergency services at both work and home. By sharing Lisa’s journey, I intend to shed light on the complex struggles faced by 911 Communicators, their relationship challenges, and the critical need for support in this dual-career dynamic.

Meet Lisa: the unsung hero

Lisa has been a 911 Communications Operator for nearly a decade. The voice that calms a panicked mother, steadies a suicidal caller, and holds the line for someone taking their last breaths. She is the first, first responder. Yet, when she tells people what she does, their response is polite but dismissive. “Oh, I could never do that,” they say, and then the conversation moves on.

Her partner, Mark, is a Police Officer. When people hear what he does, their reaction is different with immediate respect, gratitude, recognition. Lisa is proud of him but she can’t help but notice the stark contrast. Even Mark, despite his love for her, once joked, “You just answer phones.” It wasn’t meant to hurt, but it did. Because when you spend your life absorbing trauma, making split-second decisions, and holding space for people in their darkest moments, only to feel invisible in your own home, those words carry a heaviness no one else sees.

To outsiders, Lisa and Mark’s life looks like any other family’s. Two young kids. A home filled with love and laughter. A shared dedication to service. But beneath the surface, Lisa is exhausted. Mark works long, unpredictable shifts that can go into overtime. When he’s home, he’s distant and doesn’t seem to be happy like he used to. Lisa understands because she feels it too. But there’s an unspoken rule in their home; Mark’s stress takes priority. His job is dangerous. His trauma is real. So, Lisa downplays her own feelings.

At work, she takes call after call, absorbing strangers’ worst moments, desperation, grief, death. She shifts gears in seconds and just keeps moving. Then she comes home and does the same thing. She doesn’t talk about the mother whose child stopped breathing or the teenager who whispered “I don’t want to be here anymore” before the line went silent. Because who gets to fall apart first? Mark is out there, facing real danger. And Lisa? She’s just a voice on the other end of the line, right?

The breaking point

One night, after a difficult shift, Lisa comes home to find Mark already asleep. She sits in the dark, staring at nothing, replaying the call that won’t let her go. A young girl, trapped in a car wreck, crying for her father who was not responsive and Lisa suspected had died. Lisa had been her lifeline, keeping her calm, keeping her talking, until help arrived. If you listened to the call, you’d think Lisa was an auntie soothing her niece after a bad dream. You wouldn’t hear the struggle inside of her mind not to fall apart because she is a deeply empathetic human.

She wants to tell Mark about the call. She needs to. But, she doesn’t because she knows how it will go. Mark will listen, nod, and then say something about his own hard day. Not out of malice, but because he doesn’t see that her job is also filled with human suffering. So, she sits in the dark, alone with it; again. Only this time, something shifts. She is realizing she can’t keep doing this, shouldering it all, shrinking herself, pretending her struggles don’t count.

Because they do count.

The truth shall set you free

Lisa remembers a saying her grandmother used to say; “the truth shall set you free” and she decides that she needs to get honest about what she is feeling. She finds an online 911 communications support group of people who don’t need her to explain why a call sticks with her long after she’s hung up. She starts therapy and learns that validation doesn’t have to come from others. Most importantly, she talks to Mark. Not in passing. Not in a moment of frustration. But really talks. For the first time, she tells him what it feels like to be invisible in her own home and to carry a job no one acknowledges. She tells him how it feels to be seen as "less than" in a world where first responders are heroes, just not her kind. And this time, Mark listens; really listens. It doesn’t change everything overnight. But he starts asking about her shifts. He stops dismissing her exhaustion. He reminds her that what she does matters. He even starts to see his own therapist.

And slowly, Lisa starts to believe that what she does matters too.

Some relationships survive, some don’t

Lisa’s story isn’t unique. It is the real experience of thousands of 911 Communications Operators and first responder partners who exist in the gray space between visibility and erasure, between crisis and composure. Their work is critical, yet often dismissed as auxiliary rather than central to emergency response.

So, what does this mean for those like Lisa in this position? Lisa’s breakthrough wasn’t about demanding acknowledgment from others; it was about dismantling her own belief that her struggles were secondary. This shift in perspective is vital. The absence of external validation does not diminish the legitimacy of one’s experience. Lisa’s story is a reflection of an entire system that must shift. She was fortunate, her partner listened. But the reality is, not all stories end that way. Some partners never recognize the imbalance. Some relationships dissolve in the inability to meet each other where they are at. Some first responders, whether in uniform or behind the headset burn out before change ever reaches them.

But, her story is also an opportunity to look deeper into the world of 911 Communication Operators and ask some important questions. How much suffering needs to happen before people see them? How many distressing calls, unheard emotions, and unseen sacrifices can someone take before they reach their breaking point? When will people realize this job also has mental health risks like other first responders? Perhaps, the hardest question of all is, if there is so much this job requires of one self and there are risks what it can take from one self, why do people even choose this profession to begin with?

Next Week in 911 Community

The questions brought forth are ones I will explore next week in my article, where I will discuss what draws people to the 911 communication profession, and what it takes to stay without losing yourself.

About the Author: Suzz Sandalwood is an RSW/MSW Therapist, Advanced Certified Clinical Trauma and Addiction Specialist and a Certified Grief Counsellor. She has extensive professional and personal experience in first responder, addiction, and grief communities. | Connect with the author: https://suzzsandalwood.com