Caring without Carrying: Using Al-Anon's Principles to Find Serenity Under the Headset

When I first walked into an Al-Anon meeting, I was a mess of emotions. I didn't even know why I was there; I just knew I needed a way to handle the chaos around me without it consuming me. I thought I was there to learn how to manage relationships and maybe find a little peace. What I didn't realize was how those lessons would seep into my work as a 9-1-1 dispatcher—and completely change the way I approached my job.

For those who don’t know, Al-Anon is a support group for people affected by a loved one's alcoholism or addiction. It doesn’t directly address addiction but instead provides tools for those impacted by someone else’s substance use to find balance, compassion, and self-care amidst tough times. Members learn how to live their own lives fully, even when someone close to them is struggling. Al-Anon meetings focus on managing the effects of these relationships and maintaining one’s emotional health—a skill set that proved invaluable in my dispatch role.

Hearing the rawest parts of people’s lives without seeing any of it unfold can be tough. It’s common to end a call without ever knowing the outcome. It's a weird place to be, and it can leave you feeling like you're carrying pieces of other people’s pain. That’s where Al-Anon came in for me. Here are some of the lessons I took from those meetings that made a world of difference in my work and well-being.

Learning to care without carrying

One of the first things I learned in Al-Anon was something they call “detachment with compassion.” I remember thinking, How do you care without getting sucked in?

I started to understand that detachment doesn’t mean you stop caring—it just means you let go of what’s not yours to hold.

In dispatch, that became my lifeline. Every call felt urgent, I felt I was an anchor to strangers in their chaotic moment, but at the end of the day, I couldn’t control what happened after we hung up. My job was to be fully present, to calm them and offer care, and then to let it go. Practicing this daily wasn’t always easy, but detaching with compassion helped me keep showing up without letting the weight of what I couldn’t change pull me under.

Boundaries aren't optional - they're essential

Before Al-Anon, I often felt selfish for setting boundaries, as if my job, family, and friends demanded everything I had, every time. But through Al-Anon, I learned that you can’t pour from an empty cup.

Boundaries aren’t just for keeping others out; they’re for ensuring you have enough left to give when it matters.

Setting boundaries meant learning when to say no—to volunteering for extra shifts, to working when not well, and to letting work come home with me. It meant creating little routines, like taking a deep breath before walking out on the floor or playing music on the commute home, to build a buffer between work and home life. I defined a halfway point between work and home. On my way in to work, I would allow myself to think about home life until I met the halfway point and then it was time to switch over to thinking about work. I also applied this on my way home - after the halfway point I'd have to stop thinking about work and switch over to my personal life. If it were a particularly difficult day, I would allow myself 5 minutes to discuss it with my spouse and then I'd move on. These small rituals allowed me to reset and recharge so that I could come back the next day able to do my best.

Focusing on what I can control

Al-Anon emphasizes focusing on what’s within our control. While it sounds simple, it’s incredibly hard to apply in a job where lives are on the line. I would get lost in the “what ifs”: What if I missed something? What if I could have done more? But eventually, I came to understand that there was only so much I could do in those few minutes on the line.

What I could control was how I showed up—how much care I put into my words, the steadiness in my voice, the attention I gave to each call.

Focusing on what I could control helped me find peace, knowing that I had done my best. This allowed me to ground myself, moving to the next call without carrying the weight of the last one.

Letting go of perfectionism

Anyone who's ever worked in dispatch knows the pressure to get everything right is intense. One of the hardest lessons was realizing I didn’t have to be perfect to make a difference. Al-Anon taught me that “good enough” wasn’t about settling; it was about allowing myself to be human. I'd replay difficult calls (either in my head or sometimes, I'd even listen on the recorder), nitpicking every detail. But gradually, I learned to trust that my best was enough.

Letting go of perfectionism didn’t mean I stopped caring deeply about my work—it meant that I could be fully present, giving all I had without tearing myself apart for things I couldn’t control.

Was this enough for command staff? Not always! I had a 12-step saying for that too... "principles before personalities". This guided me to focus more on the situation and not the person—encouraging me to find common ground and work towards the greater good of the agency and community we served. This also allowed me to look past any bias I may have had about the person doling out the corrective measure and concentrate on the principle of the matter.

Leaning on my support network

One of the most powerful aspects of Al-Anon is the comfort of shared experience—that deep sense of knowing you’re not alone. In those rooms, I found people who truly understood what it meant to carry the emotional weight of others' crises without letting it consume them. Al-Anon refers to this as "sharing what's ours to hold". In those Al-Anon rooms, I found others who “got it”—people who had been there too.

When you’re constantly hearing other people’s crises, it’s easy to feel isolated, as if no one else could understand. I built a similar network to what I had in my Al-anon group at work, finding coworkers who understood the weight we all carried.

Sometimes, just a quick "status check" after a difficult call, a knowing nod in the hallway, or a coffee/walk break with a colleague, would ground me.

Those moments of connection reminded me that we weren’t alone. Even if no one could fully understand, we shared enough to lighten the load.

Finding calm in the chaos

Al-Anon didn’t make the job any less challenging, but it gave me the tools to handle it with more grace and peace. It taught me that I can show up for others without losing myself and that my worth isn’t tied to any single call or crisis. I couldn't control everything that happened in the dispatch center, but I could control how I took care of myself in the midst of it all. If you’re a dispatcher feeling the weight of the work, I hope these principles offer you a bit of comfort and resilience.

Remember, you don’t have to carry more than what’s yours, and it’s okay to take care of yourself as fiercely as you care for others. We’re doing good work—and we deserve to feel whole while we do it.

If you’re dealing with the impact of a loved one’s addiction, Al-Anon offers a supportive space to find guidance, peace, and community. Meetings are anonymous and available in-person or virtually, offering tools to care for yourself while navigating complex relationships. You can easily find a meeting at al-anon.org, where you’ll discover you’re not alone—and that support, strength, and hope are within reach.

By: Valerie Minor, MS

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