The Dark Side

Hey Folks,
there's another topic I'm going to cover today, it holds a lot of meaning for me for reasons that will become obvious in this post further down as you read.

Mental illness, it has a lot of stigma surrounding it. People think you're crazy, unstable, a loose cannon. They want to take your firearms from you, they want you to be locked away in a hospital somewhere and not have to deal with you. Above all they want to be able to pretend that you don't exist. This is the kind of society we've developed into, where if the scars you carry around with you are mental and not physical you are not as worth their time. Now i know a lot of you are probably saying "but Burnout! we have all these wonderful programs to help veterans, to help first responders, things are changing!" sure, sure they are. However! there is far too much that is still not being accomplished, we still need to change our core concepts and beliefs surrounding what a mental illness actually means to a person's future and remove the stigma surrounding it before we have actually begun to accomplish true change. It's all well and good to create a few programs so everyone can pat themselves on the back and have a 'feel good' moment, but when you're immediately ostracized  for using those programs when someone finds out, you haven't succeeded in doing anything actually worthwhile.

Now, onto the other topic, one I've been playing around with for a while about whether i'd actually discuss it here on my site or not, i finally caved and decided it might be healthy to share a little about myself and my recent less well known experiences.

PTSD, Shell Shock, Combat Exhaustion...there are many names for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Despite all these names, it is still the ultimate mental illness in many people's eyes right? we've all seen the movies and tv shows that use this. what are some of the main common themes we see between all of these ways Hollywood portrays it?

1) Only combat veterans suffer from this disorder. every single show has that one veteran who suffers from PTSD.

2) PTSD sufferers are always flying into a rage, losing it, and attacking people on impulse

3) Those with PTSD are always alcoholics easily found in the corner of a bar, silently drinking alone

4) If you did not see combat you don't actually have PTSD and are using it to game the system/garner sympathy/or con people in any other way

Let me preface what I'm about to say with stating how completely inaccurate all these themes are, the concepts were formed from a fraction of those who suffer from Post Traumatic Stress and yes some are like this. Not everyone who suffers from Post Traumatic Stress however acts in this way. Now, on to the meat of this post:

I'm a younger adult. (not yet in my 30s)

I look like I have my shit together .

I have healthy relationships.

I have at least 5 different groups or volunteer services I spend my free time with, a full time job, 3 part time jobs, and bills to pay which I manage to accomplish and still have free time.

I'm the person in the group of friends no one bats an eye at, the 'perfectly normal' one among everyone.

I'm suicidal.

I have tried to kill myself at least four separate times in six months at the point that I am writing this.

I have breakdowns in public, and find somewhere to hide while i shake uncontrollably and cry.

I can't get out of bed some days

I hide from others as I'm constantly terrified of strangers, or friends, family, and co-workers seeing what lurks behind the mask I wear daily

I have PTSD.

I discovered this late last year, as I'm writing this it brings back memories multiple painful mistakes I made in that time period while I battled with the darkness tearing through my mind. I started to realize there was an issue when I would have constant thoughts about hurting myself, and wishing someone would cause harm to me so I didn't have to walk around on this planet any longer. I would wake up in cold sweats, several times I woke up screaming from the nightmares I was experiencing. I found myself unable to drive down certain streets or past houses where I had run certain calls, or else I would experience feelings of dread, and sometimes the memory of what I had witnessed and the patient who I treated would hit me and cause me to have a panic attack that would leave me debilitated and crippled for days. I would have days where I was completely emotionally blunted, frankly, I didn't care about others' feelings as some days I simply wasn't experiencing any myself. I have been found on ground pressing my hands to my ears to try to stop the overwhelming sound of voices screaming inside my head, as images of patients whose lives I failed to save floated around in front of me in my mind. I finally went and sought help after multiple instances that were telling me there was clearly an issue that i could not fix by being my own stubborn self. I was finally diagnosed with Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, As a result of childhood traumas being compounded by my experiences as a Firefighter and EMT.

I have been in intensive counseling for more than six months at this point, and am more stable than I was at that period of my life, I still have moments from the above, but they are far less frequent than before I sought help. The support I've experienced from my group of friends has been incredible as they guide me and keep an eye on me when i'm in public (I struggle heavily with being around groups of people some days, i can start to shake and if I don't step out of the situation I will have a full blown panic attack). I have a fantastic counselor who has been helping me talk through my experiences and take away the power they hold over me. Above all, I've been able after several months to return to my full speed self. The problem with this situation however, is that I cannot tell my employers, I cannot put it on an official record, I cannot be an advocate for others to come forward. Why is that? because if I do, my entire career is in jeopardy. Remember that discussion from above about the stigma surrounding PTSD? it exists doubly so in the Armed Forces and First Responder community. if I came forward and admitted I have this issue, then i would have a high chance of being black balled everywhere simply based on the misconceptions others hold regarding this disorder. The main issue being that those who do not have this disorder think our actions are from anger, when in actuality it's from intense fear. That adrenaline rush you experience when you are in a situation where your life may be in danger? it's like walking around with your body and mind set to that level permanently.

The way I describe it is having anxiety cranked up to 11 (yes, i just made a Spinal Tap reference in a serious post). That's a very simplified version of what this feels like, but its something people understand when I try to explain it to them. This isn't easy to live with, but I live with it, and I don't want to lose the career I love, to a disorder caused by the career I love (oh irony). Thus, I continue to hide this from others for the most part and pretend everything is ok. I'm able to perform my job effectively, in fact I feel sometimes it's made me a stronger person for this line of work, I'm able to have relationships, and i'm able to go out in public without hitting a bottle of alcohol. I have many issues I still need to work on, but I won't be giving up any time soon.
Thank you all if you read through this entire post, I'm aware it was heavy stuff. I'll try to write a more cheery topic next week.

stay safe folks, it's a crazy world out there
-Burnout


Song of the week: G- Eazy Me Myself and I

Just another Day (Short story, 1st draft)

This is my first attempt at writing a short story, let alone one covering Law Enforcement. Any criticism or comments are appreciated! Just a rough draft of something i typed up so don't expect anything amazing...  Enjoy!

It’s another night; another night of cold, pain, and sadness. I grab the keys and a spare radio while hitching up my pants. The duty belt leaves permanent scars on my hips. I snag the keys to an old beat up patrol car and grab the shotgun then stride out to find it in a sea of red and blue. Finally finding my cruiser for the night, I slot the beat up twelve gauge into its place above my head and then sink myself into the soft leather seats of the patrol car and just sit for a minute trying to nurse the aches and groans away long enough for new ones to form in my weary body. I note the full moon above my head as I key up “1496 to dispatch show me 10-41”. An hour of boredom passes as I stare out at a road used only by myself and deer, what keeps me awake is purely the crackle and hiss that accompanies the whispers of my fellow officers over the radio.

           

          I close my eyes briefly and then my calm is broken when a call goes out for me “1496, respond to a B&E alarm at 152 heathland ave”. Normally these calls are meaningless but I have a sense of dread as if my subconscious is screaming something that my conscious mind cannot quite figure out yet. I wrench the car into drive and gun the motor causing the old cruiser to whine in protest at the sudden effort it is being forced to put out. I hit curves aggressively and squeal the tires as I push myself and my car to get there, anticipating an eventful night. I arrive at a large house tucked back in the woods up a hill and a hundred foot long driveway lit only by the moon. I turn down my radio as I get out and scan the area. I see a shadow shift in the distance and draw my handgun out of reflex, the adrenaline slams through my system at the same moment that the wind picks up and leaves skitter across the asphalt in all directions. I crouch and skulk through the woods, thankful of the wind snatching away the sound of twigs snapping underfoot but cursing my inability to hear, I see a figure shift and move behind the house, I break into a sprint as I draw my flashlight. I press myself on the side corner of the looming building and lean out quickly, I see nothing but still have the feeling someone is there, I cut the corner and turn on my flashlight. 

          I see a figure take off and I scream for him to stop, then I feel a sudden sharp pain in the back of my head, my knees lose all feeling and buckle beneath me. I roll over, instinctively press my left hand to my head and feel blood. Keying my radio I whisper “officer needs assistance” into the radio and hear the urgent voice of the dispatcher and fellow officers coming to my help and at the same time trying to figure out what is happening. I struggle to one knee and look up right as a piece of pipe swings towards me again, I hit the ground. Hard. I hit the emergency button on my radio so that everyone can hear what is happening, I lose track of the shadowy figure with the pipe as time slows down and I force myself fully to my knees, staggering as I push myself to look around and find it again. I hear the shrill tones of the Sirens call me in the wind picking up again. I hear snapping branches behind me and pivot, I see a figure several yards away and I fire my handgun as fast as my hand allows. The Figure and I both crumple at the same time as my radio ignites with the call of the dispatcher “1496! 1496 please respond!” As my vision begins to gray out I see another figure come running towards me and I weakly raise my shaking gun at it “brother it’s me, you’re safe now”. I blink. Sirens in the background and the entire area are bathed in flashing lights for the first time; I holster my gun after a few seconds of effort and sit down heavily as I finally realize my brothers have come to my aid. 

Just another day in the life of a police officer.