First Responders keep secrets. We have visions and flashbacks from scenes of crisis and we don’t talk about it. We’re not allowed to admit that the scenes bother us. If we admit that a crime scene bothered us, we are labeled as weak. No one wants to appear weak, so it becomes a secret - a silent struggle. We don’t talk about it, because it’s admitting we can’t handle the stress of the job.
Since the 22nd year of my career I have had problems sleeping - mainly during the summer(or at-least that is when I recognized it). Scenes from my past come back to haunt me and play in my head like a reel of film, but with different storylines. Because they unfold in my head as visions of different crime scenes from different times, I have no clue when they will actually start. It gradually gets worse the closer I get to July when it becomes a full blown nightmare. Once that month is over it starts to wane and eventually the reel of film stops and I just go back to occasional snapshots. It feels like my mind wanders down a one lane road where there are periods of shade, maybe some dappled sunlight and then the sun starts shining in the distance once again.
I’m not free from the snapshots the rest of the year. They come and go as random memories - drownings, suicides, the deaths of fellow Law Enforcement officers. Sometimes I’m brought back to domestic violence calls or scenes of pure crisis where someone has been robbed, or the apprehension of a bad guy that was particularly dramatic. I find that I can’t turn a corner in my own community without my memories returning to one of those many snapshots.
Last year I was running an errand, listening to reggae, singing along with the windows down. It was a wonderfully cool day with a blue, cloudless sky. I was headed to create a photograph for a friend and I was thinking about how the light might eventually be falling on my subject. I made a left hand turn at a familiar intersection, one I’ve made thousands of times - but this time was different - as soon as I turned the corner two very different crime scenes popped in my head.
The first scene is one of a fireman carrying a lifeless toddler in his arms, trying like mad to get her to an ambulance. I had just pulled up on the scene as a patrol sergeant. I checked on my deputies to ensure everything was being handled correctly and then entered the scene. I’ll never forget the screaming mother and the pool of water on the meticulously clean, tan tile floors where the little girl must have been placed after she had been removed from the pool. The snapshot of this scene are forever burned into my brain.
The second scene was another death scene, but this time it was an older lady who had collapsed and died in the entry way of her home, blocking access to the house from the front door. There was nothing necessarily alarming about this "unattended death" (where people die by themselves from natural causes.) But this one pops up often because of the feeling I had. It was Christmas time and I was working as a patrol sergeant on the midnight shift. We went to so many deaths during this particular Christmas season that I was just tired of seeing lifeless bodies and feeling the sadness surrounding it all. I remember talking to my wife the next day and telling her that I was tired of all the death.
I made my photo and went home but my mood had changed and I was a bit confused as to where these two memories had come from. I figured the only thing that would have triggered them was the location - both occurred within a mile of that intersection.
The next morning I awoke at 0300 hrs. out of a dead sleep. I Iaid there for an hour but could not kick the memories and they just lead to more memories of other crime scenes. I got up, made coffee, had breakfast, and started my day. The only thing that typically helps when I’m having these flashbacks is exercise. I thought about going for a long walk or a bike ride but then I thought, “If I leave the house and start walking or riding my bike it will just trigger other memories...” So, I sat up watching YouTube. I couldn’t shake the visions and I was getting extremely frustrated searching for a why. Then I realized it was the end of April and May 01 was the following day.
May 15 is Peace Officers Memorial Day and the week surrounding that day is known as Police Week - which always starts a solid three months of anguish for me. I typically will walk or ride my bike until I can’t go on anymore. Many times over the last few years my wife has had to come pick me up because I’ve pushed myself to exhaustion in order to work the demons from my brain and then I collapse. The last time she had to come get me was last July. I had an ugly traffic crash scene and all of its turmoil stuck in my head. I left in the heat of the day for a bike ride. Mile 18 I had to call her to bring the truck and pick me up. I found shade among the oak trees at a nearby business complex. I finished the water I had, but just could not muster up the energy to finish the last two miles or so home. I laid there on the sidewalk, under the trees, soaked in sweat, and overheated but I had worked most of the demons from my head. By mile 12 I no longer wanted to cry. By mile 18 the Florida heat had taken its toll on me. During this ride I named my bike S.I.R. for Suffering Is Real.
Only a few people know that I’ve gone to counseling because it "reveals" that I can’t handle the stress. I know this is not the truth, but most people really don’t understand what First Responders go through and telling someone you have a counselor causes there to be a sense of awkwardness.
You don’t want the people you work with to know, because you don’t want upper management to find out about how you are not able to “handle the stresses” of the job. Once people find out, it gets held against you.
I know this firsthand. A year before I retired, I was having problems with high blood pressure and asked for a week off to get a handle on it. It turned out my medications needed to be adjusted. But when I returned to work I was told in a private meeting that I was not promotable because of my high blood pressure. I asked for clarification and was told that I must not be able to handle stress because of it. Nine months later I decided that enough was enough and took my health into my hands. I decided to cut the stressors from my life and retire. I’ll also never forget that meeting. I felt absolutely betrayed. I spent my entire life in the ditches of my community, risking my life for the masses, chasing and apprehending homicide suspects, tracking sexual battery suspects for days on end, managing physical injuries based on working in those ditches while everyone else slept. All that police administrator saw was that I had high blood pressure and apparently could not handle stress. The irony is I recognized an issue I was having and asked for time off to deal with it. I’ll not forget that meeting, ever or what I learned from it.
Two years into retirement and I’m learning about a new me these days, but I still have to figure out how to deal with the memories of my past that keep me awake at night and how to deal with the anxiety of sharing in other people’s crises. I said to my wife last year on on May 01, “I now realize why many First Responders move after retirement.”
Recently, I read a post from a fellow First Responder. He has finally made it to a point where he can retire and because of that he decided to talk about the stresses of the job. So, for the last 25 years he’s kept it all to himself and only decided to write about it because he can leave the job should he need to.
I write about this in the hope that it helps to keep the demons at bay in my head and that I don’t live with sleepless nights and anguish for the next three months. I’ve come to terms with the visions and memories as snapshots and the fact that it’s just all a part of my story. - but if the constant reel of film would just stop that would definitely be a win.
I would not change the career I had in public service, even one working in the community where I have spent my entire life. I’m proud of it and the changes I was able to effect over the course of two decades. I will continue to serve in one fashion or another. It is the way.
There is a problem with First Responder culture: many administrators refuse to admit that First Responders are, first and foremost, human and the things they see and do are not normal. They don’t want to admit that it effects them mentally and in doing so many deal with their stressors in very negative ways. Until First Responder culture starts the conversation about positive ways of dealing with the stressors of the job, they’ll continue to keep secrets.
I personally know First Responders who have developed addictions due to the job and several that had planned on killing themselves. In 2019, 228 Law Enforcement officers died by suicide (Blue H.E.L.P.) vs. 146 Law Enforcement related deaths that were in the line of duty (Officer Down memorial Page), and my Fire Services friends statistics are no better. In 2019, 114 Firefighters committed suicide in 2019 (Delmarva now) vs. 57 Firefighters who died in the line of duty (firerescue1.com.)
A culture change needs to happen. A change in culture that makes it ok to be human, a culture change where having high blood pressure does not mean that you cannot handle your stress, or receiving counseling makes you weak, a culture change that talks about the reality of the job and the positive ways to deal with the stressors of an environment that is constantly involved in the crisis of others.
I know I’ll continue to walk that road of dappled sunlight and that I will go through periods of anguish based on past experiences, but I also know that the sun will fully shine bright again. I’ve learned to manage it through exercise and creative expression. This post was started weeks ago and just putting thoughts to text has helped. So far the past has not become consuming like it typically does this time of year.
I have relied on God. I’ve gone to counseling. The things we see and do are not normal and no one is immune from the demons haunting them. It’s ok to seek help. Exercise helps, counseling helps, and a creative process helps. If you find yourself going through these same emotions and processes, you are not alone and receiving help for it is not a weakness. If you need advice or someone to listen, reach out to me. Don’t struggle in silence. The sun shines brightly just around the corner.
Note: The majority of this post was written last year. I’ve made a few changes to it to reflect the time. and sat on it waiting for the right time to publish it. I guess here we are.