I had been working homicide and was on-call that week. The house was a wreck. I remember having the thought that I spent more time with the dead between cases, autopsies, and exhuming bodies than I did with the living. My next call was on July 4th.

The victim was shot among 200 partygoers. She died, and people left her for hours until the party was over. She was shot several times; however, nobody seemed to know it because of the number of fireworks. Yes, we did GSR kits on 200 people…FML.

This case was just one of many that reinforced that people are miserable pieces of shit. There is a lady on the ground. Why are you dancing…trampling her body?

After I began the investigation, it took me to lots of unsavory places and topics, as investigations usually do. The outcome was the lady had HIV, and she was pregnant by a local drug dealer. He gave her HIV and killed her so nobody would know about the baby or the disease.

As a First Responder, the job taught me that there is life, the facade of life, and what everyone wants or thinks life should be. Nobody ever asked if you were OK. We drank, we got divorced, and people said we were salty. But nobody cared why…as long as the suspect was arrested, or in the morgue.

I hope if you are where I was, you reach out to someone like me who cares. You are not alone.

When you’re hurting or notice others hurting, reach out

I’ve worked in the Fire Department for almost ten years. Those who work directly in this field know the traumatic events of car crashes, stabbings, gunshot wounds, drug overdoses, and suicides. As first responders, we have to respond to people’s darkest times of need. These individuals rely on us to save the day. This alone can be stressful. Knowing that if we can’t help them, who would?

Working the call

Call after call, death after death, it started to take a toll. I never thought it would affect me, or maybe I was just trying to ignore the pain I felt for others, but it was still there. About eight years into the fire service, I started to feel different. I’m sure the sleep deprivation of being at busy fire stations didn’t help, but I also felt the effects from the calls. I started to get anxious, which led to heart palpitations, which suddenly led to fear. I started to fear for my family and loved ones. I always thought something bad would happen to them when I wasn’t around. The fear and anxiety took over my life, and I wanted out.

Something I once loved as a career turned into something I despised. I blamed myself for wanting to get into this career. Everyone I talked to told me this was the best career in the world, but they never told me the other side of the job. I wondered whether they, too, felt these effects–or was I alone?

But you are not alone

I realized I wasn’t alone. I didn’t quit as a firefighter and got motivated to help my fellow colleagues because I knew so many were and are hurting.

There are decisive moments when we all know the next decision we make will affect the rest of our lives. 

My decisive moment came on a stress-free Saturday morning after I had just completed my 7th Combat Deployment. I was at home with my family, and we were going to take the dog to the beach, but instead, we decided last minute to pack up the kids and get some breakfast first. We got in the car and were driving out of the neighborhood when my wife asked, “Where’s Remi?”- our dog.

At that exact moment, I snapped. I was instantaneously transported back to Afghanistan. Back to the night when my Multi-Purpose Canine Bronko was killed by enemy fire and multiple grenades as we were clearing a building.

A Decisive Moment

The explosion collapsed the doorway to the bunker, and I had a standing blackout from the explosion. Just moments later, we were ordered to move out and leave Bronko behind. As we were waiting to board the helicopter, one of the guys asked me, “Where’s Bronko?” That statement created a switch in my head. How dare he not know what happened to Bronko? And three years later, my wife had just flipped that switch back on.

My next decision was to slam the car in reverse and instantly execute a textbook J – turn, basically scaring the living shit out of my wife and kids. All of them were screaming, and I was just executing a subconscious function to return to the house and retrieve my dog. Like nothing had happened. It didn’t even register with me what I had done until my wife screamed at me to pull over.

She pulled the kids from the car and told me to “Fix my shit!” At least, that’s what I thought she said. In reality, all I heard was the “Waa Waa Waa” of Charlie Brown’s Mom as my wife mouthed sharp words at me and stared at me with horror in her eyes. At that moment, I knew I had to get help. That’s the point when I said, “I have done enough. I have to fix my shit. And I can’t do it by myself”.

Take Action

We all know when we reach that point when we should reach out for help. And we also love our jobs. We fear losing our edge. We fear losing the respect of our co-workers when “we can’t handle our shit.” The thing to remember is it takes more courage to ask for help when you need it than it does to cover up the cracks in your armor until the day it gets you or someone you care about killed.

–Reach Out