One Year Anniversary

This month is one year since admitting that my mental health had taken a hard, deep nosedive south. The sexual assault that had occurred became the icing on the cake. Prior to this, life had gotten hard both at work and personally. I felt alone, worn out, and in a dark place.

I had dark thoughts but I wasn’t about to tell anyone! I was talking to a therapist, but in my experience, most therapists didn’t know how to talk to someone thinking about suicide. Nor did they want the responsibility upon them. Instead of taking care of their own client, they’d call the police or force them to the psychiatric ward. There wasn’t any way I was about to be honest with my therapist and tell her where my head was at exactly.

I had been talking to this therapist for several months but I still didn’t trust her. She had told me many times that if I was ever to tell her I was having suicidal thoughts, she wouldn’t call the police, or force me to the ER and psych ward. I didn’t believe her, but I had come to the point that I had to do something. Either I had to tell my therapist where my head was at, or I had to follow through with my thoughts. I didn’t really want to die, I just wanted the pain to stop.

This particular appointment in the middle of February, I finally told my therapist exactly what was going on in my head. I told her I had stopped taking my meds but that I was still having them filled at the pharmacy in order to stockpile them, you know, just in case I needed them. I didn’t have a specific plan, but I was heading down a very dark path.

My therapist talked to me like a human being. She never called the police. I never saw the hospital or the psych ward. But she did tell me she wanted me to go to Shatterproof, a program in Florida specifically for military/veterans and first responders. That terrified me! But through lots of talking and convincing, that’s where I went a couple of weeks later. Usually, I wouldn’t have been allowed to take a couple of weeks, but I had a couple of BIG projects I couldn’t leave unfinished. I also kept in regular contact with my therapist.

I was at Shatterproof for 40 days. Sure, I could focus on the issues and negative experiences I had with the staff, especially before getting to the actual Shatterproof program. But I won’t, because those problems were confronted and I learned to stand up for myself. Overall, the program and people there changed my life.

One of the biggest things that happened for me was Ketamine. We carry Ketamine on the ambulance at work for pain and behavioral. I had never heard of Ketamine being used for depression or PTSD. But here I was. The downside of Ketamine is the cost. They wanted $500 a treatment and encouraged you to do 6 treatments while there. Now, I didn’t have $3,000 in my possession. I told my therapist at home this, but she encouraged me to ask a few friends for help. I detest asking people for money or help! But I did it anyway. Within a short time of sending out a text message to max of 12 people, one friend in particular responded and said that through a group he works with, the entire $3,000 would be taken care of! Whoa!!! I was absolutely floored! This is the shit that happens for everyone else and never for me, yet here I was. I will be forever thankful to this friend and his group because for me, Ketamine has been life changing.

The other best thing about being at Shatterproof was my roommate. We’d have our nightly debriefings about the day’s events, and the bullshit some people had thrown out into the group sessions, instead of actually being honest. There was plenty of drama, but you’ll have that in a group of 50+ people. We stayed away from it. My roommate loved the days I had a Ketamine treatment and refused to allow me to cook anything on the stove! I guess she was convinced I would burn down the state of Florida! 🤣

Shatterproof has a zoom meeting every Friday night. It’s a time to check in and to seek/give encouragement as needed. We also have a chat with peeps who attend the zoom meeting in order to continue the support during the week, and not just on Friday evening. These peeps have become my people. I check in on them, and them on me. They will also call me out on bullshit or if I’m not being completely honest.

I became known as Pickles (surprise, surprise) and made pickle related food each weekend for the cookout on Sunday afternoon. I even made pickle ice cream, and 2 other flavors, which were a hit. I will be forever thankful for most of the staff at Shatterproof, those that truly love their work, because it shows.

The last year has been hard but full of growth. It has also been the best year of my life when considering the things that truly matter, such as having support and friends to lean on. It has also been lonely because not everyone who had been in my life was ready for that growth. They get left behind because they no longer know me. And that’s ok.

I tell my story to tell you that while it’s cliche, it’s still true that it’s ok to not be ok. It actually shows courage to ask for help and is in no way weakness. And for anyone who is struggling, please talk to someone you trust. If you don’t have anyone, leave a comment with contact information so that I can help you find resources, especially if you are a veteran/military or first responder. There is help out there. You aren’t beyond help. You ARE worth fighting for.

Do I trust you?

There’s been two first responder suicides this week in Rowan County, NC. It’s sad, yet frustrating to be honest. So many unanswered questions that will remain unanswered for the families and friends of these firefighters. There is help available if one looks hard enough. But that’s a problem too. Good, quality help often takes a lot of time digging through all the bullshit to find. But finding the right help could be so simple. Everybody says “reach out if you need to” or “It’s ok to not be ok”, which are very true. But reaching out isn’t that easy and simple. Too many people want to be the helper for all the wrong reasons and have inappropriate motives.

If I can’t talk to you about the little, everyday stuff, then there is no way under the sun I am going to tell you that I’m in a dark place and need help or that I’m thinking about suicide and may have a plan. If you talk about me behind my back at work, if you have your nose so far up your management’s asshole that you can’t tell the difference between day and night, or if you are disrespectful towards a patient after dropping them off, I’m not going to talk to you.

But if I see you go the extra mile with a patient, or maybe take an extra minute with a family who just lost a loved one, or other little things that show you care more about others than yourself, I may reach out to you. If I hear you correct a coworker who is talking about a patient in a disrespectful manner, that tells me you may fight for someone who can’t fight for themselves.

See, it’s the little things that build trust so that big things can happen. If you can’t be trusted in the little things, no one will trust you enough to keep the dark secrets safe and hold them with respect. Want to really help someone who is struggling with thoughts of suicide? Be a real friend. That is a lost art in today’s world with most people only thinking of themselves. Build trust with the little things. Help friends out with the little things when they need it. And then when the shit hits the fan, they will be more likely to reach out to you for help…..hopefully.

It’s too late to help these two firefighters. But what about your coworker who’s struggling? What about you? As long as you are breathing, there is hope. Please talk to someone you trust. Talking can be a huge help.

That Dark Place

Have you ever been in a place so dark that the only way out you can think of is suicide? Anyone who has been a first responder any length of time is likely to have been there. It may have been a quick thought that you quickly pushed out of your mind. Or maybe it was a thought you pondered on for a time. To be at that point likely means you have exhausted all other resources. Or it could mean you’ve kept it totally to yourself because of what your coworkers, friends, and family have said about similar circumstances.

When I was young and naïve in my career, I agreed with those who said that those suicidal patients we picked up were just attention seekers. Seriously, how could anybody’s life be really so bad that they would kill themselves over it? Why would a breakup with a boyfriend or girlfriend make one feel like it was the end of the world? That’s just them being selfish! Right?!?!?! But oh so wrong!

One never knows what struggles the person standing next to you at the grocery store, your neighbor, or your partner at work is really dealing with. They may talk about personal things, if they trust you. Or they may not. In the first responder world, rumors and gossip are constantly flying around. You have to be extremely careful who you share your personal life with.

What does your partner hear you say after you’ve dropped of a psych patient, or any patient, at the hospital? Are you belittling the patient or their situation. What you say to your partner could be a game changer for them, either then or down the road. When they are in their dark moment, they may seek you out for help or they may avoid you.

Your suicidal or depressed patient is in a vulnerable place. They may not feel like talking and may not feel safe opening up to you as they take the ambulance ride, that may or may not be their choice, to the hospital. But what you say to them, or don’t say, could be life-saving. If you’ve been in a dark place like they are at that moment, then be vulnerable yourself and share that. Let them know they aren’t alone in their darkness. It could help them feel safe enough to open up in those few short minutes they spend in your ambulance.

Why am I writing this? Rowan County lost one of our own yesterday. There are too many first responders ending their lives by suicide. It’s the ugliness of the job. Often spouses don’t understand the job and don’t attempt to understand, which can put a wedge in the relationship. Crummy hours and pay. Poor management. Little uninterrupted sleep. It could be anything, but it all adds up. We see humans at their worst, whether its illness or injury, or in how they respond to another human. We see the worst but are expected to act as if we’ve seen nothing at all.

If you need help, please reach out. That’s what everyone says right? But I mean it. I don’t care what time of day or night it is. I will talk to you on the phone or meet you somewhere. I will make sure you aren’t alone in your darkness, because I will sit with you in that dark place. If you need more help than I can offer, I will find that help for you whether it’s a therapist, minister, or family member. And contrary to what seems to be popular belief, just because you are thinking of suicide doesn’t automatically mean you absolutely must go to the hospital. In my opinion, the psych ward can be the worst place for a first responder. Yes, it’s a place to go to make sure you are safe. But there are better resources out there. I won’t talk about you or your circumstances to others, even if its family. You aren’t alone.

Suicide doesn’t end your pain. It passes it along to others. ffffffffffffff