Welcome back. So, I've blogged about PTSD and me, but not so much about the job. Police Officers and Firefighters are on the front lines everyday dealing with horrific things. We deal with acts of violence, suicides, domestic battery, child abuse, etc. Our job is not easy, and now since 9/11 we also are the first line of defense against homeland terrorism, as if our job wasn't hard enough. Col. Grossman said it well when he explained we are the sheepdogs protecting the sheep from the wolves.
Part of what makes our job so stressful is we don't deal with horrific calls everyday. We may go for awhile with relatively boring days dealing with alarms, neighbor complaints, and the like. Next thing you know you have your gun pointed at an offender ordering him to the ground, fighting with someone, you're in a high speed pursuit, or on rare occurences, you have to shoot someone. Then its back to paperwork. Then more paperwork. Then even more paperwork. We have to go from 0-60 in a split second. We try to go from 30-60 in a split second because 0 would be complacency, but we all find ourselves complacent at one point or another.
I found myself complacent on one particular occasion. It was a Saturday night on July 4th a few years ago. I was working midnight shift and we were at bare minimums. Normally, we are busy as hell on nights like that so we try to avoid self initiated activity that would cause us to be down for a long period of time on paperwork.
I was driving down the street when I observed a vehicle literally "curb to curb." This was not an exaggeration. He would bounce off one curb, then cross over and bounce off the other curb. If I didn't stop him, he was going to kill someone. Since we were already busy as hell and at minimums, I decided I would stop him and get him a ride rather than arrest him for DUI unless there were other factors in play. At least then he would be off the road. We already were going from fight to fight so I knew it was going to be a bad night. I light him up, but he doesn't stop right away. I was already complacent, I had already made up in my mind it was just another DUI and what my game plan was. There was no thought on what if's. I figured he wasn't stopping right away because he was just drunk. It wasn't really at the point of pursuit, either.
He finally stopped in a high crime apartment complex. As I'm exiting my squad, I see him start digging for something behind his driver's seat, not hiding something, but digging for something. That's when I went from 0-60. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck and I thought this was it, he's going to pull a gun. I draw my gun and immediately start giving commands to show me his hands. Backup was not coming soon enough. No compliance from the driver. I moved to a location where I could see the driver a little better and have a better shot if needed. What I saw was the driver had his shirt off and he was covered in blood from his head to his waist. What did I walk into? Still no compliance with my commands and I didn't want to transition to a less lethal with no backup in case he pulled up what he was digging for. Finally, he swings his arm around at me as if he had a gun in his hand. I moved my finger from the rail of my gun to the trigger, released the tension, and prepared for the worst. At the last second, he stopped and opened his hand...nothing. I yank him out of the car, put him to the ground, and cuff him. I waited for backup before doing anything else. I arrested him on multiple charges, but found nothing in the car. He was a gangbanger and I assume he normally carries a gun behind his seat, but it wasn't there that night. He was covered in blood because he was jumped by a rival gang in another town. Everything turned out ok...this time.
Being complacent could've cost me my life that day. It was a rude awakening. From then on I promised myself I would do anything possible to keep from being complacent again, almost to a fault. I'm still trying to find that happy medium.
I'm sure we all have a similar story. Complacency kills. There are always wolves out there that are not only trying to kill the sheep, but also the sheepdogs. Always have a plan, even when off duty.
Complacency can also affect civilians. How many times have you walked through a parking lot, talking on your cell phone or texting and have no idea what's going on around you? That's how people become victims. Don't be a victim. Just when you think it won't happen to you is when it happens. You don't have to be hyperalert or think the bad guy is around every corner, just pay attention. Notice what seems "off." Listen to your instincts, they will tell you when something is just not right.
And remember...
Above all else...SURVIVE
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Monday, August 26, 2013
A Little On Suicide
Welcome back. This week has been pretty uneventful so I decided to talk a little about my past today.
March 24, 2004 was a day I will never forget. I was 24 years old, was a full time firefighter/paramedic and had been dealing with my mother's severe depression. We tried everything, but nothing seemed to help. We even had an intervention to try to get her to take her meds, she refused to take them. On that day, my crew and I were at a local elementary school doing a career day/fire safety presentation. It had not started yet. I received a phone call on my cell from my father, he was frantic. I could barely understand him. He just kept saying, "she's so cold, there's blood everywhere." I had that sinking feeling that my mom had committed suicide. I convinced him to hang up the phone and call 911.
He lived in a different town than where I worked. A member of my crew drove me back to the station where I got my car and took off. It seemed like I couldn't get there fast enough. First, I got held up by a train, then I kept having to pull over as county sheriffs kept flying by me. I was probably driving as fast as they were. I had a million thoughts running through my head.
I finally arrived on scene and saw the ambulance had its lights turned off. I knew she was dead as it would've been a load and go situation. I talked to the paramedics on scene since I knew them. I was still in uniform so I got a little special access probably. I needed to see my mom. The medics spoke to police on scene. I could see her on one condition, the medic had to escort me and I could only stand at the top of the stairs. I couldn't walk any closer. I saw her lifeless, bloody body laying in bed. I saw tons of dead bodies on the job, but nothing could've prepared me for this. She shot herself in the chest with a sawed off shotgun.
I went back downstairs and went out to the welding shop. My dad owned a welding shop on their property. Family started arriving and we were all looking out the windows watching everything that was going on. I felt like it was a call I was on. Everyone was asking questions as to what was happening and why it was happening.
My dad was then taken away by police for questioning. After they removed her body, we all had to go in a make statements. Every single one of them talked about her depression.
While we were in the shop it started raining. I heard what sounded like rain hitting the aluminum roof, but couldn't see any rain outside. I knew what it was, but I had to ask. Ever since, rain on an aluminum roof is a trigger. It was the worst experience of my life. Later that night, my brother and I cleaned up the mess and burned the mattress. I was the only one in the family to experience both seeing her and cleanup.
Ironically, my mom was the one that caused all the problems in our family, but I found she was also the glue that held us together. My family fell apart. My dad stayed a horrible alcoholic, but also started smoking crack.
My wife and I were married in 2005. Not only did my mom miss our wedding, but my dad also did because he was institutionalized. This whole incident was a horrible situation, but I made through, I survived. I may have my problems from it, but I survived. You can survive too. There is such a stigma associated with suicide that no one wants to talk about it. There were so many whispers behind my back. So many questions left unanswered.
Suicide is generally, not always, a planned event. After reading my mom's journal, she had been planning this since December and it happened in March. There were no "plea for help" attempts. There was no talking about it. I'm sure there were signs, but we were blind to them. I maintained guilt for a long time, still do, because as a first responder, I've helped countless strangers, but couldn't save my mom.
What I'm getting at is no matter who you are, what you do for a living, how hard you try, if they are determined enough, they will find a way. I actually had a call where all guns and even kitchen knives were removed from the home. The guy used a circular saw. If only that determination could be used to get help.
Know that its not your fault, don't feel guilt. They most likely was well planned. I know, "do as I say, not as I do," but I'm trying. My advice is to learn the signs and if someone you know is depressed, pay close attention, it just may save their life. I miss her very much...
And remember...
Above all else...SURVIVE
March 24, 2004 was a day I will never forget. I was 24 years old, was a full time firefighter/paramedic and had been dealing with my mother's severe depression. We tried everything, but nothing seemed to help. We even had an intervention to try to get her to take her meds, she refused to take them. On that day, my crew and I were at a local elementary school doing a career day/fire safety presentation. It had not started yet. I received a phone call on my cell from my father, he was frantic. I could barely understand him. He just kept saying, "she's so cold, there's blood everywhere." I had that sinking feeling that my mom had committed suicide. I convinced him to hang up the phone and call 911.
He lived in a different town than where I worked. A member of my crew drove me back to the station where I got my car and took off. It seemed like I couldn't get there fast enough. First, I got held up by a train, then I kept having to pull over as county sheriffs kept flying by me. I was probably driving as fast as they were. I had a million thoughts running through my head.
I finally arrived on scene and saw the ambulance had its lights turned off. I knew she was dead as it would've been a load and go situation. I talked to the paramedics on scene since I knew them. I was still in uniform so I got a little special access probably. I needed to see my mom. The medics spoke to police on scene. I could see her on one condition, the medic had to escort me and I could only stand at the top of the stairs. I couldn't walk any closer. I saw her lifeless, bloody body laying in bed. I saw tons of dead bodies on the job, but nothing could've prepared me for this. She shot herself in the chest with a sawed off shotgun.
I went back downstairs and went out to the welding shop. My dad owned a welding shop on their property. Family started arriving and we were all looking out the windows watching everything that was going on. I felt like it was a call I was on. Everyone was asking questions as to what was happening and why it was happening.
My dad was then taken away by police for questioning. After they removed her body, we all had to go in a make statements. Every single one of them talked about her depression.
While we were in the shop it started raining. I heard what sounded like rain hitting the aluminum roof, but couldn't see any rain outside. I knew what it was, but I had to ask. Ever since, rain on an aluminum roof is a trigger. It was the worst experience of my life. Later that night, my brother and I cleaned up the mess and burned the mattress. I was the only one in the family to experience both seeing her and cleanup.
Ironically, my mom was the one that caused all the problems in our family, but I found she was also the glue that held us together. My family fell apart. My dad stayed a horrible alcoholic, but also started smoking crack.
My wife and I were married in 2005. Not only did my mom miss our wedding, but my dad also did because he was institutionalized. This whole incident was a horrible situation, but I made through, I survived. I may have my problems from it, but I survived. You can survive too. There is such a stigma associated with suicide that no one wants to talk about it. There were so many whispers behind my back. So many questions left unanswered.
Suicide is generally, not always, a planned event. After reading my mom's journal, she had been planning this since December and it happened in March. There were no "plea for help" attempts. There was no talking about it. I'm sure there were signs, but we were blind to them. I maintained guilt for a long time, still do, because as a first responder, I've helped countless strangers, but couldn't save my mom.
What I'm getting at is no matter who you are, what you do for a living, how hard you try, if they are determined enough, they will find a way. I actually had a call where all guns and even kitchen knives were removed from the home. The guy used a circular saw. If only that determination could be used to get help.
Know that its not your fault, don't feel guilt. They most likely was well planned. I know, "do as I say, not as I do," but I'm trying. My advice is to learn the signs and if someone you know is depressed, pay close attention, it just may save their life. I miss her very much...
And remember...
Above all else...SURVIVE
Friday, August 23, 2013
Wording and Understanding
Welcome back. I received a comment on my last post that inspired me to write a bit about wording and understanding. The words we use with someone who has experienced a trauma, mourning a death, etc., are very important. If the wrong thing is said, our intended words of kindness can blow up in our faces.
Years ago, my mother-in-law lost her mom and she was obviously very distraught. I lost my mother just a couple years before so I could at least grasp what she was feeling. When trying to console her and identify with her to make her feel better, I hugged her and used a very bad choice of words. It didn't blow up in my face, but I felt horrible knowing what I said was the wrong thing, especially knowing how bad I hated the same words being said to me after my mom died so tragically. My exact words were, "don't worry, I know EXACTLY how you feel." I didn't know exactly how she felt. I could understand, but nothing more. No one knows exactly how the other feels. Everyone grieves in different ways. Everyone grieves with different traumas also.
I thought I was telling her she had someone who understood, who she could talk to, that she was not alone. I was wrong. It didn't affect our relationship, I'm not even sure she was bothered by it, but it bothered me. I say all that to say this, choose your words wisely. You never know exactly how someone else feels. With people experiencing PTSD, we can take it a bit harder. I don't know about you, but many times I feel that not only do other people NOT know how I feel, but they also don't UNDERSTAND how I feel, and when they say that, it just pisses me off.
Anyway, the author of the comment had some issues he needed to talk about (I am using he in a universal sense as the author's title is quite literally "anonymous"). He did the right thing by going to a friend he trusted who happened to be a 30 year veteran of the police force. What made "anonymous" feel better was the police officer's wording. Instead of using the comments of "I understand how you feel", "I know how you feel", "it's not your fault", "don't feel guilty", etc., he used "I see no cause on your part." It gave the author the sense that he actually did understand without bluntly stating it. Now maybe I'm misinterpreting the comment, and you can view his comment under Silver Linings and make your own assumptions, but either way, helping someone may all be in your word choice. Sometimes you don't have to say anything at all to help someone feel better, just the silence and physically being there may be better than 1000 kind words...
My usual sign off ends with "Above all else SURVIVE," but the author of the post believed there was a better word, so in honor of his inspiration...
And remember...
Above all else...PREVAIL
Years ago, my mother-in-law lost her mom and she was obviously very distraught. I lost my mother just a couple years before so I could at least grasp what she was feeling. When trying to console her and identify with her to make her feel better, I hugged her and used a very bad choice of words. It didn't blow up in my face, but I felt horrible knowing what I said was the wrong thing, especially knowing how bad I hated the same words being said to me after my mom died so tragically. My exact words were, "don't worry, I know EXACTLY how you feel." I didn't know exactly how she felt. I could understand, but nothing more. No one knows exactly how the other feels. Everyone grieves in different ways. Everyone grieves with different traumas also.
I thought I was telling her she had someone who understood, who she could talk to, that she was not alone. I was wrong. It didn't affect our relationship, I'm not even sure she was bothered by it, but it bothered me. I say all that to say this, choose your words wisely. You never know exactly how someone else feels. With people experiencing PTSD, we can take it a bit harder. I don't know about you, but many times I feel that not only do other people NOT know how I feel, but they also don't UNDERSTAND how I feel, and when they say that, it just pisses me off.
Anyway, the author of the comment had some issues he needed to talk about (I am using he in a universal sense as the author's title is quite literally "anonymous"). He did the right thing by going to a friend he trusted who happened to be a 30 year veteran of the police force. What made "anonymous" feel better was the police officer's wording. Instead of using the comments of "I understand how you feel", "I know how you feel", "it's not your fault", "don't feel guilty", etc., he used "I see no cause on your part." It gave the author the sense that he actually did understand without bluntly stating it. Now maybe I'm misinterpreting the comment, and you can view his comment under Silver Linings and make your own assumptions, but either way, helping someone may all be in your word choice. Sometimes you don't have to say anything at all to help someone feel better, just the silence and physically being there may be better than 1000 kind words...
My usual sign off ends with "Above all else SURVIVE," but the author of the post believed there was a better word, so in honor of his inspiration...
And remember...
Above all else...PREVAIL
Thursday, August 22, 2013
Silver Linings
Welcome back. Still crazy dreams, but I could create a whole blog just on that. Just couldn't sleep last night. Took a Lunesta and it took me two hours to fall asleep. I slept straight through once I did fall asleep, though. I kind of enjoyed my dream even though it was crazy and a little stressful, so not bad. Just needed that extra couple hours beforehand.
I have six weeks left before my neurologist clears me to drive again, then I can finally hit the street and feel like the real police instead of a desk jockey. Not driving has been incredibly difficult, but its been a blessing in disguise. I could focus on therapy without interruption and normal hours have been great. I guess if we want to have a happy life, we have to look at the hidden blessings. I'm not trying to put a religious twist on anything, I'm not sure about my faith right now after so much. My wife sees it differently. She's very religious and believes this is God's plan. I'm torn. Believe what you need to believe in, its your choice, I'm not going to press my views on anyone. When I use the term "blessing," I use it as an easier term to type than "silver lining." So whatever you believe in or don't believe in, don't think I'm making any comments towards it. We do have to look at the hidden blessings, though. How many people have experienced a bad car accident, been shot, etc., just to find out they have a tumor that is treatable only because of their traumatic event. You may not hear these stories all the time, but you still hear them.
Don't get me wrong, I'm a born pessimist. Its hard for me to look at the silver lining. It drives my wife crazy. I was always trained, "expect the worst and hope for the best." If you're a pessimist, the second part of that saying is the difficult one. You expect the worst and expect the worst. I think that's where I need to change my thinking. The world we live in is not sunshine and roses and the people who look at it that way are naive. As a cop, I regularly see the evil in the world. You become jaded and desensitized. You are off duty and constantly look at people's hands or what they're doing. My wife sees people sitting in a car in a parking lot staring at a store, I see people casing the place. We need a certain level of this to do the job, but it can get carried away. I think that adds to the PTSD. I'm still not going to stop carrying my gun off duty, but there can be a happy medium, I just have a hard time finding it.
I kind of got away from my previous line of thinking, silver linings. In order to be happy, look for the little things. I feel better because I'm on a normal schedule and no bad calls to deal with so I can focus on therapy. I get every weekend off to spend with my family. That's probably the best part. I was put into a bad situation and I hate it, but there are also good things that came of it. Don't get me wrong, its hard for me to think this way. I think the only thing helping me to think this way is the fact that I'm blogging it hoping I'll help someone. My therapist wanted me to keep a journal, but I think this is better. I wouldn't be typing all this stuff about silver linings if I were just keeping a journal. I'm mentally trying to be positive, because, let's face it, do you really want to read a bunch of negative comments or do you want to read something that might actually help you, even a little? Either way, I don't think many people are reading my blog, if any. I've had descent page views and a couple comments, but that doesn't mean my posts are being read regularly. With that in mind, maybe I'm not helping anyone except myself (which is still okay with me). If people are reading, I'm still not sure they even believe I'm a cop, which makes them think I'm total bullshit and they stop reading. I know what I am and who I am. If one person reads this blog regularly and it helps them, then I've done what I set out to do. Besides, isn't it about time to bring PTSD to light?
And remember...
Above all else...SURVIVE
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Stay the Course
Welcome back. Well, I slept a little better last night, meaning I only woke up twice. It didn't feel like a good sleep, though, because the dream I had was very stressful, strange, realistic, and vivid. I won't get into it today unless I have an overwhelming amount of people commenting that they want to know about it. It's just a lot to type and would take a whole post by itself, besides, I don't want to bore everyone with my crazy dreams every time I blog.
I did have therapy yesterday as I said in my previous post. My therapist said she saw a noticeable difference in my mood (meaning better). My psychiatrist increased my Cymbalta which probably played a decent part in that. It comes and goes, though. I may go awhile feeling good with minimal intrusive thoughts, flashbacks, etc., but then it all comes back and sticks with me for awhile. Problems I've had in the past, which I'm sure many of you relate to, is once you start to feel good you think you don't need meds or therapy anymore. I learned the hard way that its just not the case. Anyone with PTSD or other mental illnesses needs to continue with the treatment plan until EVERYONE in your treatment plan comes to that decision. I believe now that's the only way we can truly heal.
In my particular instance, I have trauma issues going all the way back into childhood, not just one event or issues just from being on the job (not to downplay anyone elses trauma, your trauma is just as bad). My plan is to stick with it even when I feel good so I can work out everything I need to work out. I think everyone's plan needs to include that. Don't quit just because you feel good for awhile, it will ALWAYS come back unless you follow through and see it to the end. We will always have the trauma, its a part of us, it makes us who we are, but it doesn't have to run our life. PTSD is an internal wound. Its not visible in a physical way, but it still needs to heal like any other wound. If your body is cut, it heals, but it leaves a scar. Whatever trauma you have been through will leave a scar, but eventually, with proper treatment, the wound will heal into that scar and you can move on with your life. No one would ever allow a cut to keep bleeding, eventually they would bleed out and die. Why would you allow an internal wound to continue bleeding? You wouldn't put a band-aid on a gunshot wound. You wouldn't partially treat a serious cut, stop the bleeding for a short time, then stop and let it start bleeding again. So why stop PTSD treatment before you're completely healed? What I'm saying is, stay the course no matter how good you feel until you're completely healed. For any of you who are on the job, how many times have we dealt with an emotionally disturbed person off their meds because they stopped taking them just because they felt better?
As first responders we will always get bad calls. We can distance ourselves for the time being to do our job, but it all piles up. And of course there are always those calls that we can't shake. So whether you have been diagnosed with PTSD or not, make sure you have someone you can at least talk to in time of need. They may not be a therapist, but even close family or friends can help. I know its hard to talk to co-workers, because in our line of work its still seen as a weakness. Maybe you're lucky and you have someone on the job who you can talk to, but talk to someone, even if its just writing in a journal.
PTSD is an occupational hazard for first responders and military, but anyone can experience it. When is the last time you saw someone off duty for a little while for mental health purposes and had full pay from the department because it was considered line of duty? I never have. Maybe one day...
Anyway, I'm sure you're tired of listening to my rant for the day so that's all for now.
And remember...
Above all else...SURVIVE
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
Nightmare
Welcome back. Well, I spoke too soon in my last post. Didn't sleep last night again. Took a Lunesta and still woke up all night. Nightmare all night, and when I say nightmare instead of nightmares it means everytime I woke up and fell back asleep, I fell into the exact same nightmare right where I left off. I hate it.
This nightmare wasn't about previous things I've seen on or off the job. There was a killer running loose murdering a lot of people. Every time we caught him, he fought and it took 5 or 6 of us to bring him down and get him cuffed. He always managed to escape and kill more people. The last time he was escaping, I told my partner to shoot him because we knew by him escaping, more people would be murdered. For some reason, I didn't have my gun. My partner couldn't do it and he escaped again. I don't remember seeing him again, but in the dream I was freaking out afterwards. I was at my parents house as if it were my own, my wife and kids lived there with me and my parents didn't live there. I always freaked out thinking he was coming for me. That's all I can remember.
My dreams are always very vivid so I always wake up thinking its real for the first couple minutes after waking up. We'll see what my psychologist thinks at my appointment today. Either way, I'm still exhausted.
Anyway, I'm getting closer to getting my license back after the seizure. I'm so tired of riding a desk. I can't wait to hit the street again. I try to look at this as a blessing because I've been able to focus on therapy and healing without having more bad calls. Its hard to see the blessing, though, when its kept me from what I love. I guess sometimes you need a break, though. I was forced into the break. I don't like being forced into it. I would much rather have taken a vacation. I've found burnout makes the PTSD worse. I guess I should learn that every so often, I need to take a vacation, whether its just staying home with the family and getting some things done around the house or actually going on a vacation somewhere. I would prefer the latter, much more fun.
I love my job at the fire department, too, but I'm considering leaving. I'm burning the candle at both ends and it would cut down on bad calls, helping me to heal quicker. I don't think PTSD will be a forever thing, at least I hope not. A lot of cops eat there gun after retirement when they have all the time in the world to just think. I don't want to be one of those guys.
I remember my grandfather beginning to talk about his time fighting in World War II. He never talked about it until he became close to his time in this world. He died at 82. He kept everything bottled up for all those years, but that generation didn't believe in talking about it. As they got older, I think they finally wanted to make their peace. Things are changing for the better now. PTSD is becoming less of a stigma to talk about with all the returning vets. This generation is more apt to seek treatment. Let's not wait till we're in our 80's to reflect. We need to talk about it now so we can live a long, happy life. Its not a weakness, its a strength. Its a willingness to say, "this is what I've been through and I'm not going to accept being miserable." Suicide rates are much higher than the general public among first responders and military, along with divorce rates. That is not a coincidence. When my mom committed suicide, it destroyed my family even with all its problems. She wasn't willing to seek treatment. PTSD and mental illness is just like any other terminal illness, just of the mind, not the body. Depression can lead to physical ailments as well. And not seeking treatment can ultimately kill you, just normally by your own hand. Don't destroy your family, they don't deserve it.
Well, I'm done with my daily rambling. I'll leave you to the rest of your day. I hope its a good one. Meanwhile, I'm going to fill up on coffee.
And remember...
Above all else...SURVIVE
Monday, August 19, 2013
Dreams and Finding the Right Therapist
Welcome back. This weekend was a good weekend with the family, but I had a family function to attend on Sunday for my nephew's christening. A large portion of my brother-in-law's family was there that I didn't know. I always get anxiety around large crowds like that and usually find somewhere by myself to cool down. This time I was unable to find a space so I had to deal with it. I'm sure many of you can relate. I always find myself checking my watch every few minutes to see if its time to go. It drive's my wife nuts. I have found that whenever possible, if I can escape by myself it does help.
Last night though, I found it next to impossible to sleep. I woke up several times and finally stayed up when I woke up again at 5am when my alarm was set for 6am. Weird dreams. The only thing I really remember is I was at a call with a fellow officer for a soldier in full dress uniform and he was very emotionally disturbed. He pulled out a knife and wouldn't drop it. When he made a move towards us, I shot aiming for center mass, but the bullet struck him in his leg. Next thing I remember is the news showing me shooting a soldier standing there waving to people. The news didn't show him with the knife and only showed the part where I shot him, seemingly unarmed and unprovoked. Obviously, I was distraught in the dream even though I knew I was justified. Weird thing is I served in the Army myself. Oh well, some dreams you just don't understand. I'm classifying it with the normal cop dreams of your weapon jamming or the offender not going down even though you shot him several times, the rounds seemingly not affecting him at all.
If this post seems a bit like I'm rambling, its because I'm tired and filling up on coffee. I haven't had any bad nightmares lately, though. Maybe therapy is starting to work. Its been nice lately with no nightmares or flashbacks. Not many intrusive thoughts. I'm on my fourth therapist. Sometimes it takes awhile to find one that's right for you. If you are in therapy or just starting and feel like its not working, give it time. You may have to switch therapists or give it more time. Don't feel like you have to stick with who you started with. And for any cops who are reading, you'll understand this analogy. Finding a therapist is like picking a duty weapon. Just because you have one in your mind that you really want to use, it doesn't mean its the right fit. you have to find one that fits your hand and feels good shooting. What I'm getting at is you have to check out different therapists sometimes to find the right fit.
I'll stop my rambling for now. Maybe my next post will be a little better. Hopefully I'll have more sleep.
And remember...
Above all else...SURVIVE
Last night though, I found it next to impossible to sleep. I woke up several times and finally stayed up when I woke up again at 5am when my alarm was set for 6am. Weird dreams. The only thing I really remember is I was at a call with a fellow officer for a soldier in full dress uniform and he was very emotionally disturbed. He pulled out a knife and wouldn't drop it. When he made a move towards us, I shot aiming for center mass, but the bullet struck him in his leg. Next thing I remember is the news showing me shooting a soldier standing there waving to people. The news didn't show him with the knife and only showed the part where I shot him, seemingly unarmed and unprovoked. Obviously, I was distraught in the dream even though I knew I was justified. Weird thing is I served in the Army myself. Oh well, some dreams you just don't understand. I'm classifying it with the normal cop dreams of your weapon jamming or the offender not going down even though you shot him several times, the rounds seemingly not affecting him at all.
If this post seems a bit like I'm rambling, its because I'm tired and filling up on coffee. I haven't had any bad nightmares lately, though. Maybe therapy is starting to work. Its been nice lately with no nightmares or flashbacks. Not many intrusive thoughts. I'm on my fourth therapist. Sometimes it takes awhile to find one that's right for you. If you are in therapy or just starting and feel like its not working, give it time. You may have to switch therapists or give it more time. Don't feel like you have to stick with who you started with. And for any cops who are reading, you'll understand this analogy. Finding a therapist is like picking a duty weapon. Just because you have one in your mind that you really want to use, it doesn't mean its the right fit. you have to find one that fits your hand and feels good shooting. What I'm getting at is you have to check out different therapists sometimes to find the right fit.
I'll stop my rambling for now. Maybe my next post will be a little better. Hopefully I'll have more sleep.
And remember...
Above all else...SURVIVE
Saturday, August 17, 2013
Good Day
Hello all. So far today has been a good day. Its a beautiful day out, I'm off work, and I love being home with my family. I don't remember waking up last night and don't remember any nightmares.
With PTSD I have good days and bad days. We have to cherish the good days, we don't know how many good days we'll have. Bad days are bad days and its hard to do anything about that without help. But I'm not worried about my bad days right now, I'm not thinking about my next outburst of anger, and I'm not wondering about if I'll have a nightmare tonight. I'm just thinking about my good day. I think that might be some of our problem. We have our bad days, and yes they are BAD, but when we have our good days, we still think and worry about our bad days and all the things that MIGHT happen. I MIGHT have a flashback, I MIGHT have a nightmare, I MIGHT have an outburst of anger and take it out on someone I love. Don't worry about the MIGHTS. Worry about the RIGHT NOWS. RIGHT NOW I'm enjoying the day with my kids, RIGHT NOW I'm feeling good, RIGHT NOW I'm not having a flashback or outburst. I know, easier said than done, right? I have a hard time heeding my own advice, but believe me, I'm trying.
It's hard to be happy with the right nows when so much seems to be going on. In a previous post, I mentioned I had a seizure the neurologist believed was a result of a side effect of one of my meds. I constantly worry now if I'm going to have another seizure. I was off work for about 6 weeks and have been on light duty ever since. The state took my driver's license away for 6 months (I feel like I got a DUI) so I can't be out on the street. All I can think about is hoping I get my license back at the end of September and get back out on the street. It's kind of funny though, despite what happened, its really helped being OFF the street for awhile. Its given me time to focus on my therapy and relieve some burnout. Although, I ride a Harley and pretty much will be missing the entire riding season. Anyway, I'm not going to sit in front of a computer all day and you shouldn't either. Afterall, I have a good day to enjoy and I hope you do, too!
And remember...
Above all else...SURVIVE
With PTSD I have good days and bad days. We have to cherish the good days, we don't know how many good days we'll have. Bad days are bad days and its hard to do anything about that without help. But I'm not worried about my bad days right now, I'm not thinking about my next outburst of anger, and I'm not wondering about if I'll have a nightmare tonight. I'm just thinking about my good day. I think that might be some of our problem. We have our bad days, and yes they are BAD, but when we have our good days, we still think and worry about our bad days and all the things that MIGHT happen. I MIGHT have a flashback, I MIGHT have a nightmare, I MIGHT have an outburst of anger and take it out on someone I love. Don't worry about the MIGHTS. Worry about the RIGHT NOWS. RIGHT NOW I'm enjoying the day with my kids, RIGHT NOW I'm feeling good, RIGHT NOW I'm not having a flashback or outburst. I know, easier said than done, right? I have a hard time heeding my own advice, but believe me, I'm trying.
It's hard to be happy with the right nows when so much seems to be going on. In a previous post, I mentioned I had a seizure the neurologist believed was a result of a side effect of one of my meds. I constantly worry now if I'm going to have another seizure. I was off work for about 6 weeks and have been on light duty ever since. The state took my driver's license away for 6 months (I feel like I got a DUI) so I can't be out on the street. All I can think about is hoping I get my license back at the end of September and get back out on the street. It's kind of funny though, despite what happened, its really helped being OFF the street for awhile. Its given me time to focus on my therapy and relieve some burnout. Although, I ride a Harley and pretty much will be missing the entire riding season. Anyway, I'm not going to sit in front of a computer all day and you shouldn't either. Afterall, I have a good day to enjoy and I hope you do, too!
And remember...
Above all else...SURVIVE
Friday, August 16, 2013
Reasoning
Welcome back. I know the last couple posts were a bit much, but I had to give a little history into how I got to this point. Remember, it's a summary, not everything is included, nor do you want to read everything that would've been included. There have been many good times in my life also. I have a good support system, a wonderful wife, and three wonderful children.
As a police officer, I am naturally skeptical, so some of you may think I'm not a real police officer because who would hire me with my history? Well, I kind of got lucky. I'm not your typical person that comes from that environment. My drug use consisted of marijuana and trying ecstacy a couple times. And that was pretty much all through high school. After that, I got my life together. In Basic Training the Drill Sergeants called it "intestinal fortitude."
I had plenty of people to vouch for me at the fire department, which was only Paid On Call at the time. It later went to a combination department consisting of POC and full time, which I then tested and got hired full time. When I got hired at the police department, I had military experience, a successful and distinguished career as a firefighter/paramedic, and I was 26 years old, far removed from my wild days. They didn't really ask much about alcohol use and because of "Jane," who was now my wife, along with therapy, I only drank socially. I drank a couple beers with friends once every couple months. So with a good Psychological test, honesty, good test scores, and a good interview, I got hired.
Its hard sometimes doing this job, but at 34 years old and despite everything, I still love it, and I couldn't imagine doing anything else. You can choose to believe me, or not, but its your choice to make. This blog is therapeutic for me. My therapist suggested I start writing. I figured instead of a journal, I would blog because maybe someone out there could relate and understand they are not alone. I haven't got into much yet about hopefully helping others with similar situations, but I'm just starting, and I'm new to this whole blog thing. If you're skeptical, just stick around for awhile and give it a shot.
I do not profess to have the worst life or upbringing in the whole world, there are many that have it much worse. We all have our problems we deal with individually. What seems to me like nothing, may just be the worst thing that's ever happened to that person and they struggle with it. There could also be people out there saying the same about me. Whenever I deal with a junkie or some other criminal who starts saying how he had such a bad life and I think I'm better than him, I always reply, "I'm no better and no worse, I just made different choices in life."
If you're dealing with PTSD or any other difficulty in your life, there is help out there. People do care. They may not always understand, but they do care. People don't realize that you can't just "snap out of it." Its different than regular depression and anxiety disorders, to the point where the DSM V (the primary source for diagnosing mental illnesses) has created a new category for PTSD and TBI.
I may be on a lot of meds, but I have shown improvement in therapy. My psychologist and psychiatrist believe I will not be on these meds forever, I just need them to assist with my therapy. I had a seizure while driving not to long ago. The doctors and neurologist believe it was a side effect of the anti-depressants and adjusted my medication, haven't had one since. Nonetheless, the state took my license for 6 months. I have been on light duty thanks to a very supportive department. I took medical leave from the fire department and the police department has squad cars pick me up and take me home everyday. I hopefully will be returning to the street in October. I'm sick of the desk, and for all you police officers out there, I've been working on CALEA proofs this whole time. I won't get into it for everyone else, but the cops know what I'm talking about. Either way, being off the street has been a blessing in disguise. It has given me 6 months of a normal life to focus on my well being.
I am glad I was given a chance. I may see a lot, but the key is a good support system. The therapist believes I would've been able to handle either my mom's suicide or the job separately, but when both were combined, it was just the right recipe for destruction. I'm torn between talking to my wife about things that happen and keeping it from her. I don't want to burden her with stuff that happens at work. I've found that as long as there are no included details, just a small overview, she is right there by my side for support. It's a good balance. If you can find a friend or family member like that, then you're on the right track.
PTSD is not something to be ashamed of, though its hard to think of it that way. As I sit here typing, I find it hard to take my own advice. Its easy to say sitting behind a computer, but real life is much more difficult. PTSD shows that you went through something horrible, but you survived. Continue to survive and heal the invisible wounds.
And remember...
Above all else...SURVIVE
As a police officer, I am naturally skeptical, so some of you may think I'm not a real police officer because who would hire me with my history? Well, I kind of got lucky. I'm not your typical person that comes from that environment. My drug use consisted of marijuana and trying ecstacy a couple times. And that was pretty much all through high school. After that, I got my life together. In Basic Training the Drill Sergeants called it "intestinal fortitude."
I had plenty of people to vouch for me at the fire department, which was only Paid On Call at the time. It later went to a combination department consisting of POC and full time, which I then tested and got hired full time. When I got hired at the police department, I had military experience, a successful and distinguished career as a firefighter/paramedic, and I was 26 years old, far removed from my wild days. They didn't really ask much about alcohol use and because of "Jane," who was now my wife, along with therapy, I only drank socially. I drank a couple beers with friends once every couple months. So with a good Psychological test, honesty, good test scores, and a good interview, I got hired.
Its hard sometimes doing this job, but at 34 years old and despite everything, I still love it, and I couldn't imagine doing anything else. You can choose to believe me, or not, but its your choice to make. This blog is therapeutic for me. My therapist suggested I start writing. I figured instead of a journal, I would blog because maybe someone out there could relate and understand they are not alone. I haven't got into much yet about hopefully helping others with similar situations, but I'm just starting, and I'm new to this whole blog thing. If you're skeptical, just stick around for awhile and give it a shot.
I do not profess to have the worst life or upbringing in the whole world, there are many that have it much worse. We all have our problems we deal with individually. What seems to me like nothing, may just be the worst thing that's ever happened to that person and they struggle with it. There could also be people out there saying the same about me. Whenever I deal with a junkie or some other criminal who starts saying how he had such a bad life and I think I'm better than him, I always reply, "I'm no better and no worse, I just made different choices in life."
If you're dealing with PTSD or any other difficulty in your life, there is help out there. People do care. They may not always understand, but they do care. People don't realize that you can't just "snap out of it." Its different than regular depression and anxiety disorders, to the point where the DSM V (the primary source for diagnosing mental illnesses) has created a new category for PTSD and TBI.
I may be on a lot of meds, but I have shown improvement in therapy. My psychologist and psychiatrist believe I will not be on these meds forever, I just need them to assist with my therapy. I had a seizure while driving not to long ago. The doctors and neurologist believe it was a side effect of the anti-depressants and adjusted my medication, haven't had one since. Nonetheless, the state took my license for 6 months. I have been on light duty thanks to a very supportive department. I took medical leave from the fire department and the police department has squad cars pick me up and take me home everyday. I hopefully will be returning to the street in October. I'm sick of the desk, and for all you police officers out there, I've been working on CALEA proofs this whole time. I won't get into it for everyone else, but the cops know what I'm talking about. Either way, being off the street has been a blessing in disguise. It has given me 6 months of a normal life to focus on my well being.
I am glad I was given a chance. I may see a lot, but the key is a good support system. The therapist believes I would've been able to handle either my mom's suicide or the job separately, but when both were combined, it was just the right recipe for destruction. I'm torn between talking to my wife about things that happen and keeping it from her. I don't want to burden her with stuff that happens at work. I've found that as long as there are no included details, just a small overview, she is right there by my side for support. It's a good balance. If you can find a friend or family member like that, then you're on the right track.
PTSD is not something to be ashamed of, though its hard to think of it that way. As I sit here typing, I find it hard to take my own advice. Its easy to say sitting behind a computer, but real life is much more difficult. PTSD shows that you went through something horrible, but you survived. Continue to survive and heal the invisible wounds.
And remember...
Above all else...SURVIVE
Thursday, August 15, 2013
History and Suicide (Part 2)
I ended my last post with my mom's suicide and clean up. I completely internalized. Again, I turned to alcohol. At this time, my girlfriend (we'll call her "Jane"), was in college. She came home on the weekends and mostly stayed with me at my apartment. Again, I began getting drunk every night, mostly to drown out the memory of it all, but also to pass out so I hopefully wouldn't have anymore nightmares. It usually didn't work. I had nightmares almost every night, flashbacks, and I didn't want to do anything but drink. All this was on top of the horrible deaths I had seen as a firefighter. There is nothing worse than hearing the shrill scream of a mother when you tell her her child is dead.
"Jane" had finally had enough. She tried everything to help me, but nothing she could do on her own worked. The last straw was when she came home from college for the weekend, walked in the door, and found me on the floor passed out in the morning with an empty bottle of whiskey next to me on the floor. It was full when I began drinking it the night before. She gave me an ultimatum, get professional help or she will leave me. I knew that was it, I had to face it now. It not only was affecting my life, but affecting work as well. I couldn't concentrate and was making poor decisions. My skills had dramatically suffered.
I began seeing a therapist soon after. I was quickly diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and put on anti-depressants and anti-anxiety pills. The nightmares continued, but I began feeling better with the help of the meds and therapy. Meanwhile, my dad was on his way to rock bottom.
My dad discovered mom that morning. He slept downstairs since their marriage became one of convenience. He went upstairs and found her in bed. The first call he made was to me, not 911. I got him to call 911 and raced to their home. My dad and I were the only one's in the family to see her body like that. It ruined him. He drank more and started smoking crack to self medicate. I became the parent. I believed he would commit suicide next.
Once "Jane" and I bought a house together, I had him move in with us. I got him into therapy, which didn't work out so well for him. He had drug dealers coming by my house and I finally had to kick him out. He stuck with therapy until he threatened to kill his therapist, then himself. He was institutionalized a week before "Jane" and I were to be married. Now, not only was my mom not at my wedding because of suicide, but my dad was missing it because he was institutionalized.
I finally stopped therapy and got off the meds because I thought I was "feeling better." It lasted for awhile, but I still had nightmares and an occasional flashback. It didn't help that I was still seeing horrible things at work and almost died in a fire.
I felt a void inside. I always wanted to be a Police Officer, but ended up a Firefighter. I made the decision, leave the fire department full time and become the police. I stayed on part time at the fire department and currently work both jobs. It filled the void for awhile, but I constantly need more. Now I am an Arson Investigator and work Crime Scene Investigations. The PTSD got worse. I spend a lot of time with dead bodies from gruesome deaths, up close. In fact, I get so many death scene jobs to process my co-workers began calling me the "Angel of Death."
Again, "Jane" gave me an ultimatum, get help or she's leaving. I was never there mentally and kept everything bottled up inside. Nightmares, flashbacks, and sudden outbursts of anger became the norm. I went back to therapy. I continued on a downward spiral even with therapy. I was finally put on meds again. I experienced a severe side effect, I had a seizure. They gave me seizure meds and continued with the other meds because they believed the benefits outweighed the risks. The therapist even considered inpatient therapy, but I refused.
I finally hit rock bottom when I walked in on a suicide at work that was exactly like my mom's. She was still alive and there was still a haze and the smell of gunpowder in the air. I knew there was nothing I could do but watch her die. As CSI my job was to process the scene. I knew the paramedics would destroy the scene once they got there so I began taking as many pictures as I could to maintain scene integrity. So not only did I have to watch her die, but I had to photograph it also.
I'm still currently in therapy. I take Cymbalta, 6mg of Ativan daily, Lamictal, and Lunesta just to stay asleep. I wake up 4-5 times a night and with the Lunesta I wake up 2-3 times a night. I see my psychiatrist today so we'll see if he changes the dose. Anyway, that is an extreme summary of my life. Now you know a little bit about me. I could write a book if I included everything, but I won't since I don't think you want to be reading this post all day. From here on, my posts will continue with my accounts of my life dealing with PTSD, The Job, and Me. I hope you find this blog helpful and informative. Know that you survived whatever horrible experience that brought you here so you can survive this too. Anyone can be afflicted with PTSD, not just soldiers, police officers, and firefighters. Know that you are not alone and I know a lot of you out there have worse stories than me, but this is my story...
And remember...
Above all else...SURVIVE!
"Jane" had finally had enough. She tried everything to help me, but nothing she could do on her own worked. The last straw was when she came home from college for the weekend, walked in the door, and found me on the floor passed out in the morning with an empty bottle of whiskey next to me on the floor. It was full when I began drinking it the night before. She gave me an ultimatum, get professional help or she will leave me. I knew that was it, I had to face it now. It not only was affecting my life, but affecting work as well. I couldn't concentrate and was making poor decisions. My skills had dramatically suffered.
I began seeing a therapist soon after. I was quickly diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and put on anti-depressants and anti-anxiety pills. The nightmares continued, but I began feeling better with the help of the meds and therapy. Meanwhile, my dad was on his way to rock bottom.
My dad discovered mom that morning. He slept downstairs since their marriage became one of convenience. He went upstairs and found her in bed. The first call he made was to me, not 911. I got him to call 911 and raced to their home. My dad and I were the only one's in the family to see her body like that. It ruined him. He drank more and started smoking crack to self medicate. I became the parent. I believed he would commit suicide next.
Once "Jane" and I bought a house together, I had him move in with us. I got him into therapy, which didn't work out so well for him. He had drug dealers coming by my house and I finally had to kick him out. He stuck with therapy until he threatened to kill his therapist, then himself. He was institutionalized a week before "Jane" and I were to be married. Now, not only was my mom not at my wedding because of suicide, but my dad was missing it because he was institutionalized.
I finally stopped therapy and got off the meds because I thought I was "feeling better." It lasted for awhile, but I still had nightmares and an occasional flashback. It didn't help that I was still seeing horrible things at work and almost died in a fire.
I felt a void inside. I always wanted to be a Police Officer, but ended up a Firefighter. I made the decision, leave the fire department full time and become the police. I stayed on part time at the fire department and currently work both jobs. It filled the void for awhile, but I constantly need more. Now I am an Arson Investigator and work Crime Scene Investigations. The PTSD got worse. I spend a lot of time with dead bodies from gruesome deaths, up close. In fact, I get so many death scene jobs to process my co-workers began calling me the "Angel of Death."
Again, "Jane" gave me an ultimatum, get help or she's leaving. I was never there mentally and kept everything bottled up inside. Nightmares, flashbacks, and sudden outbursts of anger became the norm. I went back to therapy. I continued on a downward spiral even with therapy. I was finally put on meds again. I experienced a severe side effect, I had a seizure. They gave me seizure meds and continued with the other meds because they believed the benefits outweighed the risks. The therapist even considered inpatient therapy, but I refused.
I finally hit rock bottom when I walked in on a suicide at work that was exactly like my mom's. She was still alive and there was still a haze and the smell of gunpowder in the air. I knew there was nothing I could do but watch her die. As CSI my job was to process the scene. I knew the paramedics would destroy the scene once they got there so I began taking as many pictures as I could to maintain scene integrity. So not only did I have to watch her die, but I had to photograph it also.
I'm still currently in therapy. I take Cymbalta, 6mg of Ativan daily, Lamictal, and Lunesta just to stay asleep. I wake up 4-5 times a night and with the Lunesta I wake up 2-3 times a night. I see my psychiatrist today so we'll see if he changes the dose. Anyway, that is an extreme summary of my life. Now you know a little bit about me. I could write a book if I included everything, but I won't since I don't think you want to be reading this post all day. From here on, my posts will continue with my accounts of my life dealing with PTSD, The Job, and Me. I hope you find this blog helpful and informative. Know that you survived whatever horrible experience that brought you here so you can survive this too. Anyone can be afflicted with PTSD, not just soldiers, police officers, and firefighters. Know that you are not alone and I know a lot of you out there have worse stories than me, but this is my story...
And remember...
Above all else...SURVIVE!
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
History and Suicide (Part 1)
Welcome back. Now its time to give you a little history about
myself. I grew up in poverty. We were on welfare for a large part of
my life after my father had an accident at work that broke his neck and
back. He was unable to work and got a measly monetary settlement that
did not last long, nor pay the bills. Both my parents were heroin
addicts before I was born and somehow got clean, but continued to be
alcoholics. I grew up being abused and was repeatedly sexually
assaulted by an older friend when I was around 8 years old. My house
was more than dysfunctional.
Of course I began falling in with the wrong crowd, using drugs, drinking, fighting, etc. My first bout with alcohol was at 12 along with my first cigarette. By 16 I was getting drunk with my dad and my mom was buying alcohol for all my parties. Somehow, I survived. I covered up a DUI crash for my parents at 17 (interesting night). I had my first child at 18. I joined the Army and after returning home from Basic Training, I found the girl I loved, that I dated for two years, and was the mother of my child, did not love me anymore. She left me and I shut everyone out. I got drunk to the point of blackout every night. After 6 months, I finally moved on. After returning home from a deployment to the Middle East in 2000, I became a firefighter. I still did not know how I did it, but I knew somewhere inside me was a survivor.
After coming home from the Army, I met the woman who would later become my wife. I spent a lot of time drinking, usually getting drunk everyday. I would pick her up from her house and down a 6-pack of beer beforehand. Whenever she questioned the beer on my breath, the answer was always, “I had 1 or 2 a little bit ago.” She always believed me, either that or she decided not to push the issue. She stayed by my side through everything.
On March 24th, 2004, my mother put a sawed off shotgun to her chest and committed suicide. She spent a lot of time during my childhood abusing me both physically and verbally. I had a lot of resentment towards her, but in the 2 years prior to her death, we actually started to reconcile.
We knew she was in a severe depression and did everything we could to get help, but unfortunately we were unsuccessful. Two weeks prior to her death, she decided to get everything off her chest from her life. I guess she felt it was her way of saying goodbye and making peace. It was horrible. Stories of abuse, murder, prostitution, etc, all in my family. I won’t get into specifics because I would be here typing on the subject for the next to weeks, but let’s just say I handled it the way my family always did, I spent the night with whiskey and tequila.
The morning she died, I saw her lifeless, bloody body laying in her bed. If that wasn’t bad enough, I cleaned up the mess that night. My family may be dysfunctional, but we don’t allow outsiders handling our business. BIG MISTAKE! And that’s when everything spiraled out of control…
I think that’s enough for now. More tomorrow. And remember…
Above all else…SURVIVE
Of course I began falling in with the wrong crowd, using drugs, drinking, fighting, etc. My first bout with alcohol was at 12 along with my first cigarette. By 16 I was getting drunk with my dad and my mom was buying alcohol for all my parties. Somehow, I survived. I covered up a DUI crash for my parents at 17 (interesting night). I had my first child at 18. I joined the Army and after returning home from Basic Training, I found the girl I loved, that I dated for two years, and was the mother of my child, did not love me anymore. She left me and I shut everyone out. I got drunk to the point of blackout every night. After 6 months, I finally moved on. After returning home from a deployment to the Middle East in 2000, I became a firefighter. I still did not know how I did it, but I knew somewhere inside me was a survivor.
After coming home from the Army, I met the woman who would later become my wife. I spent a lot of time drinking, usually getting drunk everyday. I would pick her up from her house and down a 6-pack of beer beforehand. Whenever she questioned the beer on my breath, the answer was always, “I had 1 or 2 a little bit ago.” She always believed me, either that or she decided not to push the issue. She stayed by my side through everything.
On March 24th, 2004, my mother put a sawed off shotgun to her chest and committed suicide. She spent a lot of time during my childhood abusing me both physically and verbally. I had a lot of resentment towards her, but in the 2 years prior to her death, we actually started to reconcile.
We knew she was in a severe depression and did everything we could to get help, but unfortunately we were unsuccessful. Two weeks prior to her death, she decided to get everything off her chest from her life. I guess she felt it was her way of saying goodbye and making peace. It was horrible. Stories of abuse, murder, prostitution, etc, all in my family. I won’t get into specifics because I would be here typing on the subject for the next to weeks, but let’s just say I handled it the way my family always did, I spent the night with whiskey and tequila.
The morning she died, I saw her lifeless, bloody body laying in her bed. If that wasn’t bad enough, I cleaned up the mess that night. My family may be dysfunctional, but we don’t allow outsiders handling our business. BIG MISTAKE! And that’s when everything spiraled out of control…
I think that’s enough for now. More tomorrow. And remember…
Above all else…SURVIVE
The Beginning
Welcome to my new blog. I am a Police Officer and a Firefighter so I have seen a lot in my career. I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder in 2004 after my mother committed suicide. No need to get into details now, maybe later.
I am starting this blog not only as a means of healing, but also with the hope that someone out there will relate and it may help them heal. Some of my posts may be graphic, but its only to give you an insight into my life and to stop the stigma of PTSD. If you’re like me, you’ve dealt with shame of others believing you are weak, but remember, you are not weak. More to come tomorrow.
Above all else, SURVIVE…
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