Writing your own story...

(To start things off, I'd like to make the disclaimer that I am writing out of anger, sadness, stress, and fear. These emotions are completely honest and 100% from my heart. Some will say that I'm exposing too much of myself to those who read this, but one thing that I have adopted over the last several weeks is a passion of being a better human. So this will have vulgar language fueled completely by emotions. But it's been a while since I have written. So here goes...) 

So in the recent weeks we have all be aware that I have been battling insurance companies to finally get the MRI of my shoulder so I can figure out what I've done wrong. Good news! The MRI was clear aside for some fraying in my rotator cuff and that I will not require surgery. That's great news. Nobody wants to be hacked open and face months of rehab. I am currently doing a few more rounds of physical therapy. 

With that being said, I have been recently cleared to return to my jobs full duty. Thankfully I have been able to make a pretty good adjustment back to one of my old ems jobs. That I can honestly say, I really missed. 

On the other hand, one thing that has been driving me up the fucking wall. 

Things have not been the greatest for me as of late. On an emotional level, I am completely drained. I am running on empty like never before. I am going through periods that I can't eat for days, and other days that I binge. Today I started to notice that I have been losing more than a normal amount of hair, let's hear it for early baldness! I sleep like shit at best, this is my routine. 

I was recently shot down for a job that I interviewed for and this was just another blow in the last few weeks. But we continue to say that “everything happens for a reason.” I remain optimistic. I tell myself that this isn't forever and that this is only temporary. In the meantime, I drive for uber (which has its own series of war stories) in an effort to make some side money through this rough patch. I am barely breaking even but I can't complain. I could not have any way to make ends meet. So I'm very thankful that there is some type of money coming in.  

But the kicker in all of this is the people who are fairly close to me. These people in an effort to help have been offering advice. And although the deep down it is appreciated. I just need some time to work shit out. I just need to be able to take my life in a direction that is right for me. Not necessarily you. 

I was taken back by my former full time employer after my accident and I am very thankful for that opportunity. I help out when I can fit into a slot on the schedule the best that I can. However during this time, I seem to have coworkers that take it upon themselves to tell me what is in my best interest. Tell me that I need to go back to my old job on a full time basis despite the effects that it had on me mentally and physically. 

Now when I said effects, I'm literally having anxiety attacks in my car as I arrive. I spend my entire shift feeling out of place and unwanted. I have a strong feeling that I no longer belong and that I ass is constantly on the chopping block. Coworkers and superiors that I had a great relationship with prior to my police academy escapade, now walk past me like I don't exist. A truly rough position to be in a fairly short period of time. 

So I put a game face on every day. I smile and nod and I do my best to survive my shift and do my job to the best of my abilities. Honest and true. Because that's all I can do. I sit and hold my tongue as I watch superiors break policy and go out of their way to dodge the work load. I am in no place to call out my bosses on when they break the rules. It's not my job. I know my place in the food chain and I'm not going to lecture them on what they are doing wrong. Yet these are the ones who want to help me out by making comments like, "well you need money so you're not in a position to say anything" or "well we know you need the insurance."

Not so easy to digest. Again, in the past several weeks, I just do my best to be a fucking human. I do my best to do the right thing and help those who need it most. I am beyond thankful for those who have been able to lend a hand to me when I've needed it most. It just really kills me when you are doing your damnedest to get by and make ends meet, yet every which way you turn you are faced with another person who knows that is best for you, while they skate by stabbing others in the back. 

Today, I was offered $4 dollars from a colleague to remove snow from their car. Followed with a "well we all know you need the money..." No bigger kick in the balls than that. 

But she was right. I need the money. But you know what I want more than money? I want respect. I want to be treated like a human by my employer. I want to be treated like a person who poured his heart and soul into the organization. I want to be appreciated for my skills and what I bring to the table. I have broken my ass for many years to get to this point. And all I want is a place to call my own. A family that I made, a life that I can be proud of living. I shouldn't have to stress all day about going into work and who may now be out to get me. 

Nobody should have to live this way. It's no way to live. It's a load of BULLSHIT. But yet there are many of this who wake up and do it on a daily basis. For years, they waste their life and miss out on the best times with friends and family. It's a heart breaking reality. 

Unfortunately what is right for me, is not what is right for you. And what's right for me is not going to be right for the next guy. But that's the best part of life. We all get the chance to write our own story. We all face a series of comedies and tragedies. We have our ups and we have our downs. That's what makes us into who we are. 

Back in high school, our first day actually we were faced with a question by the principal. He said: "Men, over the next 4 years, I want you all to ask yourselves, how you want to be remembered?" And as we all sat in the St. Peter's college gymnasium, we all sat in white tuxedo jackets, we looked left, and we looked right. I sat in a room full of men who would go on to do brilliant things. Some I would see again. Others I never would again. And we were posed that same question. 

"How do we want to be remembered?" 

I want to be remembered as the guy who always did the right thing. I want to be remember as the guy who lived and honest life and did was best for himself, those he loved, strangers on the street, people I would never meet.

But what is important, is that I write the story. I need to do what is in my best interest. Even though that hard work and honesty didn't play out for me this time, that's life. It will happen again, and again, and again. But I'm writing my story, not yours.

So although I value your input greatly, I really just need to work through this rough patch the way I know how. Hard work, perseverance, and patience. I know that it may not being going according to your plan, but it's the fundamentals that I was raised on, and that will always prevail in the end. 

EMS operator 74...

What is the address of your emergency?

It’s a term that seems so second nature that you don’t feel it anymore. You don’t feel the weight that it holds. More importantly you don’t feel the assurance that it provides on the other end of the phone. As I type this, I sit inside a “high performance” dispatch center. I feel a sense of accomplishment because I successfully killed a roach earlier in the night. Atta boy. I look at the dispatch system as the minutes of the 12 hours slowly tick by. Not knowing when that phone is going to ring. But you know that it is going to.

From the street side of things. The dispatcher is the first to get blamed. We have all muttered the term “the fucking dispatchers…” then followed by some comment. I have done it several times. Even more so after I became a dispatcher. They are the first point of contact with the person that woke us up. Thus making them the problem. It was the dispatcher for drummed up the chest pain patient at 4am. It was also the dispatcher that decided you needed a work out, and 20+ minutes of CPR would be the perfect thing to get the blood flowing (no pun intended, but kinda). I’ve worked with some phenomenal and some not so phenomenal dispatchers. But it is one of the most thankless jobs on the earth.

More often than not, the dispatcher is really only brought to the public light when they have really screwed up, or happened to have answered the phone on some glory call. This is hoping that it was that one call where you were trying to eat dinner, our sneezing, or coughing, or laughing at the scenario that is being presented to you at the time. Public safety is a front row seat to the greatest show on earth, but dispatch holds the invite to the party. More often as time passed the dispatcher, call taker, telecommunicator becomes so jaded that it is hard for the stress to stick. Some are able to simply, not give a shit, and move on like nothing ever occurred. Others have to live with the fear of the unknown.

It is easy in the public safety world to work in the field. The biggest reason to this, you are able to use your senses to their full potential. In the dispatch world, not so much. On the streets, you can see what you are going into, you can hear if things are occurring, you can use your touch to change the outcome, and you can smell what may be a dangerous condition. In dispatch, the only smells you have are the farts of another person in the room, and your sense of hearing. That is it. You are forced to use your sense of sound to determine what exactly is going on there. In a best case scenario, a person will answer all of your questions and everything will go along with the script and all will be fine. However, it very rarely works out this way. More often than not. It is a complete shit show on the other end. And it’s your job to determine what the most critical issue, as well as send the appropriate help in a timely fashion. Simple things really.

The hardest part of this job for me, is the stress of the unknown. To me, it is 12 hours of playing a game of Russian roulette with a phone. Each time that it rings, there is no telling what is going to be on the other end. Is it a person who cannot breathe? Is it a child that fell off of their bike? Is it an intoxicated person sleeping? Is it someone who just witnessed their wife of 50 or more years say her final “I love you”? Is it a person that is down on their luck and does not want to be alone? Is it someone having the “big one”? The one thing to know, is that you never know what it is going to be. But you damn well better be ready, and you better sound like you know what you doing. The whole time, you are personally freaking out on the other end. We all have our moments of panic. That moment of, “what the hell am I supposed to do? This isn’t in the guide cards!” That moment where you cannot offer reassurance, because you cannot stray away from the cards. The moment were you want to say that help is on the way, but the line goes dead… just like that, the line goes to nothing.

A brief “hum” followed by a short “click”. The caller is no longer there. Are they okay? Did you get it right? Did you say the right things at the right time? Were you able to send the appropriate help? Are they going to be okay? Please god, tell me that they are going to be okay! Don’t let this be their last breath!

You don’t have much time to recover. A few short seconds later the phone rings again. You hear the family screaming in the background. You battle the caller who begins the interaction by screaming. “HURRY UP! YOU NEED TO HURRY! THEY JUST DROPPED AND NOW THEY ARE NOT BREATHING!” You immediately try to obtain an address, you can’t just send a unit to nowhere. You fight to verify an address so that you can get the help going. Your partner assigns the units to the job, Basics are rolling, and paramedics answer and acknowledge the job. The caller tells you that they are turning blue and breathing once every few seconds. You are going to have to instruct a person over the phone on how to perform CPR, a process that will seem to go on forever. The caller tells you that they cannot do it, they just can’t, that it is too much for them to handle. You need to reassure them that this is going to save their life. You now are faced with the task of making a complete stranger your eyes and ears at the worst possible moment of their life. Your blood is racing and you want to just hang up the phone and do it yourself.

But you can’t, that isn’t your job. You look at your deployment monitor, the units are moving. But not fast enough in your eyes, to you they are going to slow. They should have been there by now. It’s been 33 seconds. Dear god, it has only been 33 seconds. This feels like a lifetime and it has only been 33 seconds. You continue to provide instructions. “I need you to pump the chest hard and fast, hard and fast, hard and fast.” You hear the caller putting every ounce of energy into this and you can tell that you are changing their life, in a way they ever saw themselves changing at this very moment. You could a sequence of “1-2-3-4” over and over. You watch the counter on your console county up and down 600 times. “Where the fuck are these guys!” is the only thought as you continue to count. Your body syncs to the routine you are commanding over the phone. You give the caller reassurance that they are, “doing great” and “help is just down the street”.

Just then, it is a miracle, you hear the echo of your partners voice through the phone, the unit arrived. The caller tells you that help has arrived, you tell them that can disconnect and you hear that click. You take a second, you hear nothing. For that brief moment, it is just you, your mind, and the wonder. Did I do enough? Are they going to make it? Did I do well? Did I make the difference? Did I save the person? It is the fear of maybe never knowing. You may get the information. You may not. They may make it to the hospital, they may not. You don’t know. But what you do know, is that phone is going to ring again. And that you have no clue what is about to come your way.

So here's to another banner year...

(As I write this entry, I sit in my parent’s yard enjoying a glass of Angel’s Envy whiskey and a cigar. 

The weather is highly unseasonable for December 12^th.)

So here is sit taking in the world around me as I watch the creeps of this ever changing neighborhood power walk past the house. With each person, the dog goes absolutely batshit crazy at each one. Over the last several weeks it has been a complete shit show of events. With my shoulder injury, I have been going through a complete nightmare of trying to obtain some type of normalcy. I have never been sidelined in a situation like this and I must admit. It is a really shitty thing to go through. Having to spend the last month being unable to work sets in really quick. Luckily for me, I don’t have children at this time so I don’t have to worry about feeding more mouths other than my own fat self, but it still pretty nerve wracking to wonder that if you buy a sandwich, will you be able to make the credit card payment. Penny pinching is an understatement.

What heightens this horrible feeling is that it falls at the end of the year when everyone is supposed to be merry and in the Christmas spirit. A spirit which I find to be a load of complete horseshit. As a child you yearn for the idea of Christmas and receiving gifts, as you get older and you start making money, you pride yourself on the fact that you can give others gifts with the money that you had made all year. Then you start to hit a lull where you really don’t give a shit about the holidays. For me, I would always combat that by simply working on the holidays. This would keep with my personal flaw of that if I am working, then I don’t have to handle the situation. I had slipped down a path where I would use my line of work as a mask to hide from family, friends, enemies, and situations that I would not want to or I was just too afraid to take on. It was much easier to say that I had to work, and it was an easy out. I can proudly say that I have moved past this part of my life, and I realize that I pissed away some of the best years of my life. I wasted away the precious hours and days of my life, by sitting on a street corner waiting to chauffer the next drunk or PCP addict to a free bed. But I digress.

Today is an emotional day for me, a day where I usually spend a good amount of time looking back on what I have (or have not) accomplished over the last 12 months. I sit here as I watch a sunset to the south quickly turn the sky a beautiful shade of orange tucked behind a façade of blue and grey clouds. In a completely honest statement, the events over the last year were a very big disappointment to me. Now don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love the person I am with. I wonder on a daily basis why she even puts up with me and my shit. She is a true saint. She has a heart bigger than anyone I know and does the right thing. On top of her dealing with my shit, I sit and watch her brave a smile day in and day out as the people around her try her patience at every turn. She breaks her ass day in and day out and it kills me to see some of the complete and utter bullshit she has to deal with on a regular basis.

What hurts more about this injury is that it is going to take that much longer to give her the life that I know her and I both deserve. She has had such an outstanding effect on me and its one that is almost impossible to put into words. It really is a rarity that you find someone who you mesh with so well. Someone who understands your fucked up sense of humor and can continue one of your asinine jokes and plays along with all your stupid and embarrassing moments. It has killed me to see her so upset over the last several months as she does her best to overcome the loss of a person who has always been by her side. I often find it very hard to relate because I lost those who were closest to me over 15 years ago. She will be okay, I try to tell her that the first year and the first set of holidays are always the worst. It is a shitty feeling, but we all eventually learn to cope. I just wish there is more that I can do.

Over this last year, I have also seen some great accomplishments from some close friends. I was asked to be a groomsman in my best friend’s wedding. I couldn’t be more excited for my best friend and am beyond excited for this new chapter of his life. He is marrying the girl that he has been dating since high school, which is a cliché thing to hear that someone is marrying their high school sweetheart almost 10 years after high school. He also celebrated his first year of sobriety and I can do nothing but give him praise for that. Not saying that I am an alcoholic, but the personal willpower to be able to give up something that you enjoy and something so predominant in society is something to be admired.

As for me, I was able to roll of a great deal of significant blows dealt to me. I was denied a promotion that I had my heart set on more than many people know. I was raised on the teaching of “hard work and dedication” will always prevail. I thought that by breaking my ass and always doing the right thing would allow me to move up the ladder, and unfortunately I was mistake. And that is fine. I have moved past what had happened. I also had the opportunity to be selected as a police officer recruit, and that didn’t work out either. It’s a series of blows that have left me with a serious case of failure, and a large bag of police gear that will probably never be used. But on a positive note, I have a large duffel bag with my name on it, so I will get through baggage claim sooner!

I along with everyone else all say, “Everything happens for a reason”. Which is a nice way of saying “that really blows”. It is a quick coping mechanism. Nobody knows why I happens, but for whatever reason it does. Every year at this time, I always say that this year is going to be my year.  With some fading hope that things will finally work out for me. I gotta say that as I get older, I hope to finally achieve the things I have been striving for.  A person can only take so much heartbreak and disappointment before he gives up. I would like to think that I am showing a bold effort in remaining resilient throughout this entire shit show. 

I must admit that if I have to start from the bottom and work my way to the top. That it at least be with something that I will enjoy doing every day. Whatever that thing may be. Money and benefits are a great thing. But one thing that I have realized throughout the latter part of the year is that the people that I do have around me are those that I plan on keeping from now on. I don’t need much else. I have a partner who I would give the world (or what little I have left) for. I have a great group of friends who back me up no matter what happens. I may not have the dream life that I was hoping to have by now, but that is okay, everything happens for a reason. So here’s to another year. Let’s hope that 27 works out. 

Confessions of the almost not ambalampse driver...

So here I sit. Here in the physical therapist office. Amid a sea of the wounded and weak. Grandmothers recovering from broken joints, and car accident victims being massaged of legally advised back pain. This is now my new life. Things changed very quickly for jbiggz. 

Things were looking up, life was looking great. I was finally getting my phone call up to the big leagues. I had passed all the requirements, cleared the medical, psych, and background checks. I was going to be starting my career as a police officer. So as things began to set in that this is becoming a reality, life changed quite rapidly.

Before I could even try to get a grasp of things, I was taking leaves from

My ems jobs. A whirlwind of emotions take over. Is this the right choice? Am I going to be able to keep up? Will I remember what I need to? Am I ready for this? Is this the right move? I've got this! I can do this! I'm going to be the difference I would like to see in the community!

The hardest part hit me like a cinder block. Saying goodbye. Saying goodbye to the family that had stuck by me for longest time. I had submitted my change to become a per diem employee in case things didn't work out. The remaining days flew by. People tell you the war stories of what it was like when they went through. How bad the academy was for them, and how you go from a person who saves lives to someone who is less than shit. But you block it out and move on. You realize that these are the moments you are going to miss the most. Slowly time ticks down to the last hour of the last day. You get no warning that it is going to hurt as much as it will. There's no person telling you how much you're going to miss the people that worked alongside of you for so long. That part always seems to be left out. Whoops.

So as I return my bus back to the station, you hear a few "good byes" and "good lucks" over the radio as you make that final approach. You hand in your keys and radio for the final time, it has gotten real. You hear the slam of the broken metal door that takes the beating of a lifetime day in and day out. You realize that you won't hear that slam anymore. You won't hear those voices that always made you realize that you survived the night. You won't hear any of that stuff anymore. 

Before you can grasp the new change, life is beginning again. It's a whole new life that you think you might be prepared for... But there is never enough preparation for. Now due to unwritten law, I cannot discuss the things that had occurred but I certainly was not in Kansas anymore.

Some lessons that I did learn:

- You can never spit shine shoes well enough.

- You gain a whole new appreciation for your uniform. 

- You never appreciate your friends, family and significant others more than during this time.

- I'm nasty.

There are other things that I had learned which gave me a brand new outlook on life. I wake up each day feeling motivated and ready to take on a whole new set of challenges. Despite being broken down mentally and physically, I was feeling okay. 

And then this happened...

While performing physical activity in training, I felt a slight pain in my right shoulder. Meh, no big deal. Probably just sore from the activities of the last week. As I continued the physical activity, the pain suddenly became worse. Not just a soreness, a pain so severe that I was ready to call a civil war field doctor in to amputate the arm at the shoulder. In following procedures, I go to the doctor. After a weekend of anti-inflammatories and rest, I am faced with the reality that I may have torn the labrum in my shoulder. To countinue every the reality of this, I was going to miss the required physical training of the academy and due to the treatment plan. This land me in a lose/lose situation where the only resolution would cause me to have to resign from the academy. So after a long road background checks, psych evaluations, medical evaluations, and stress, a shoulder injury was the demise of police recruit Biggy. So as a result now, and due to agency policy, I'm jobless, sidelined with a broken wing, and freaking out about where I will work next. And that folks is the tale of jbiggz the police recruit and that time I got just a brief taste of the major leagues before injury sent me back to the minors. 

Now it's not all a story of gladness, with a shadow of sadness (prep reference). Everything happens for a reason. Whatever higher power clearly has a plan for me. And even I don't know what that plan is that this point (Could be just about anything), but it was not in the cards for me to be a police officer. I'm keeping my head up and eyes open in the meantime. Maybe this is the time for me to explore my options and see what else is out there for myself. Then again, bridge painting seems like a pretty stable career.

the highs... and mostly lows of the job.

It has been a hectic few weeks to say the least, and for that I apologize. Due to an insanely high work load and a complete shift in things at work, it has left little to no time to blog. Things here have not been the best. The organization has been losing employees in droves. Most taking jobs going to other organizations that offer better pay with easier workloads. And others are going to other systems that simply, “aren’t here”.

It is a very sad reality to witness great employees leave. Some that bring a very personal touch to those in the field. Some that will brighten up you’re the last few moments of a hellacious shift as you walk out the door.  Others were those clutch team players that would always manage to help you get out of a sticky situation. And then there were the few transients who viewed this place only as a stepping stone, in an effort to go somewhere else.

I can proudly say that I have poured a great amount of blood, sweat, and tears into the organization. I cannot make a sound decision nor put myself before the welfare of my coworkers, because I view them to be family. I have witnessed births, deaths, buried our own, as well as picked one another up when they were down. I would be lying if I said I didn’t take it personally to see the organization in this shape.

Before every shift, I pull myself together in a grand prix style fashion… Racing through a shower and shave, while I grab spare uniforms and sprint out the door. In an effort not to be late for work, and as I get to the car, I realize that I forgot something. Upon the return into the house, I am greeted by the dogs ecstatic to greet the person at the door (despite leaving 2 minutes prior). Once gathering the remainder of my uniform, it’s time for the pre-work phone call to the girlfriend. The commute usually allows for a 15-25 minute conversation about how much dislike other people, and how we can enjoy the next 4 hours a week we will have to see one another between the conflicting schedules. Once battling for the parking spot at work, it’s time for goodbyes and the hopes that I will have enough time for one more phone call before its time for her to sleep.

The sad part, is as soon as the phone is hung up, I am overcome by a head pain that stems from the base of my neck, to my eyes. A stress headache always seems to strike at that exact moment. It last for about the ENTIRE length of my shift, and usually subsides when my head hits the pillow the following morning. Why does it have to be this way? I ask myself almost daily. I wish that there was an answer to this question. Is it dedication to the organization that causes you to feel this way? Is it the fact that you do not like watching all of your hard work go to waste? Or is it that you know that the organization is capable of doing better, but is too caught up in their own drama that it has an overwhelming effect on morale? We may never know, but I can assure you, I don’t like it.

So here is to hoping that everyone can put all the nonsense behind them, start showing up for their assigned shifts, handle the increased work load, and we can get through this. Because this certainly isn’t the place that I fell in love with. 

It's okay, you're not alone...

"You gonna blog about this one now joe?" -A.M.

Well as a matter of fact, I am. 

Several weeks ago as part of my continuing education as a fire official, I participated in a recertification program titled "stress management". For those who read this blog, it's obvious that it was worth a shot. What could it hurt? I thought... What is there to lose? Plus it was free, so Why not? 

Now I took an oath that what was said in the class would remain confidential, but I can certainly share my experience. There were some familiar faces and some new. The class was put on by a psychologist and a leadership company which I have had a fairly good learning experience from. So I kept an open mind going into this. 

As the class begun, we were informed that first responders are now able to be diagnosed with PTSD, which was a big thing. Now police, firefighters, and EMT's can be classified with an anxiety and psychological diagnoses! Just what we would like to be labeled with. None of us in this industry or anyone in general wants to be labeled. But in the case of first responders, a label like that, immediately spins us into panic mode. A panic that we will no longer be fit for duty. A scary thing. Why? Because we worked very hard to be where we are. We love our jobs. We don't want to lose what we have. It's a underlying fear of seeing the things we see... That we will get labeled. 

As the class chugged a long, there were people like myself willing to discuss some of their personal issues, and others that were not. Which is perfectly fine. I take pride in the fact that I am not afraid to say how I feel. I am also not afraid of others know about it. 

Some interesting topics that I walked away with, was the notion that you're not alone. It was comforting to know that there were others who feel the same as me. There are other dispatchers who feel the stress of trying to get information from a person who is taking their last gasping breaths over the phone. Or the pit in your stomach when you are unable to get a hold of unit that is not answering their radio. The things that the public will never know. 

Again, you aren't alone. There are plenty of others in this field who feel the same way that you do. And it's okay. I can say that I have felt lonely for a long time. Not in a sense that you are physically lonely, but emotionally. That nobody can relate to you and that you feel like an outsider. That you feel by yourself in a boat on the rough seas. After the class it was great to know that I was, in fact, not alone at all. And that many of us feel this way. 

Many of those that are willing to open up, have a fear that the person listening won't understand what they are experiencing. I feel that our industry would greatly benefit from some "job specific" counsellors. Former and current police officers, firefighters, and EMT's that have experience and can better understand those who are looking to speak to others. I know there are some out there, but I think there is a need for more. 

A notion in this line of work, is that you are the bravest of the brave and that you have to stay tough at all times. Which is not necessarily true. Bravery and being able to accept that you are human are two separate things. We all have a certain degree of bravery that we must accept on the job. We are going to see terrible and tragic things. We are going to break our asses on jobs we don't want to be on. We are going to be pushed to crazy limits, and then pushed a little further. It's a necessary evil of this work. But if there was one thing that I took away from the day, was that it's okay.

It's okay. 

It's okay to feel feelings. We are all humans, and we are supposed to to feel emotions whether we would like to or not. It's part of being a person. Yes, we put on our game faces, and we mask our thoughts. We use comedy as a crutch, As a means of temporarily putting a band aid on how we truly feel. It's okay to get back to the station and shed a tear after seeing something terrible. It's okay to talk about how shitty it feels sometimes. 

The sadness comes even worse when we see how many first responders are taking their own lives. Several campaigns have started as a means of reaching out to help other first responders. Which is a great thing, but it's sadly a bit too late. For years those who were willing to open up and talk to someone about their emotions, were viewed as the weak. When in reality, they are the strong ones. They are willing to go against the norm and accept that they are human.

I learned that I am far from perfect and that I carry a large burden on my shoulders. My strong desire for success and my strive for excellence keeps me from appreciating what I have. I spend more time worrying about not being a failure that I don't take time to enjoy what's going on around me. It's something that I accept as an issue and am working towards fixing it. 

I think as an industry of public safety professionals we all need to take the time to reach out to someone that we know may be going through a rough time. Take a second after you know that someone just had a bad call or a bad shift. Take a moment to list to them. Take a moment to see if they need anything. It could mean the world to them at that moment. If we start to take care of one another a bit more, we may be able to change the industry around. 

It's okay to be human, you're not alone. 

The coaching life, a break from the insanity, kinda sorta...

In the recent few weeks, I have been in a complete rut. Things have gotten to the point at work, that there is nothing left to look forward to. In the last few weeks, I have been lucky enough to have very amazing saves and some not so great moments. Sadly the nonsense that has been occurring, has all but masked any hope for a good shift. 

So as a result, I have been looking more and more forward to a volunteering as a lacrosse coach for a youth lacrosse program. I must say, that I was a bit skeptical walking into this new endeavor. I was the new coach in a town, with kids that I didn't know, and a new set of difficulties. I took it with a grain of salt focussing on the bigger picture... That I get to introduce kids on one of the greatest sports there is.

Lacrosse is a sport that translates into "little brother of war". It is a game that is a mix of hockey, soccer, and the contact of football. You play with a solid rubber ball and your only defense is a thin set of padding. You get to run around and beat others with a stick. It's known as the fastest game on two feet, and anyone who has witnessed a game played can agree. 

The challenge that I have come across while doing this, is that many kids do not like being there. I always have heard that rants of my coaches growing up that practice is not a baby sitting service. And sadly I see that now. 

Don't get me wrong, there is nothing more rewarding that having a young player ask you for help or ask for advice. It's a great feeling. I feel like I'm making more of an impact than I do working as an EMT. However, some of the questions I have been asked are a little bit more off the wall. 

What type of questions are these? Well... Let's begin... "Coach, why do you think the government is putting bugs in our food?" Or my personal favorite, "Coach, I shit my pants, what should I do?" 

What do you do? What do you do? How have you gotten this far in life? 

Where the hell am I supposed to find an answer to these things? On top of that, I am faced with noticing that most kids just walk off the field when there is something that they do not want to do. The biggest part of lacrosse is running. And if they don't want to run, they just walk away. They drop their things and walk away. If they don't walk away they make an attempt to hurt me by taking shots at my head. Ahh, to be young... This is an action that would have had Coach Hal, firmly plant his foot up my ass. That would have been followed by sprints until I threw up, and then more sprints to follow. 

But tomorrow is a new day, and another practice. So here's to hoping we can maybe grasp the "1-3-2" offense, and I will not be talking to myself in a field of 20 kids who couldn't give a damn less about me and what I have to say. Being a kid is hard, I get that. You need to worry about the government bugging your food.