My 13 year-old son was sick and home alone from school when all the smoke alarms went off in our house. He first called 9-1-1, scooped up the pets, and then called me at work from the front yard. He did exactly what he should have done.
I arrived home in time to be greeted by two fire engines and the fire chief, who was holding a defective smoke detector. After they left, I told my son how proud I was of him, because taking action like he did required courage and bravery. Then I went into another room and privately let my feelings of being punched in the stomach surface. I thought, "why didn't he call me first?" I was hurt that I wasn't the first person he turned to in an emergency.
And then I thought of you, saying to so many callers (I'm paraphrasing): "the goal of parenting is to make children not need you," so this should be a huge "YAY" moment instead of the one I was letting myself sink into.
The truth is my son is braver than I am. My 13-year-old self would have been trying to get hold of mommy and daddy first while the house burned down. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I was jealous of my son's bravery. And I also felt I was deprived of a moment where I could come to the rescue and feel important. I then let those feelings slowly fade away, which was deeply satisfying, and realized that just like my son didn't need to call me, I was able to work through this moment without calling YOU, because I've listened to you for so long, and have learned from your teaching!