Under Pressure

A diamond forms from coal under pressure.  This has been used to justify tough situations we go through, with hopes of being better and brighter on the other side of it.  This all depends on your definition of pressure.  We relate our pressure to our surroundings, our current environment, be it home or work. 

I’ve recently had the privilege to attend a training where I spoke to several other first responders and asked them what was their definition of pressure in their chosen profession.  The top three answers and in order of how they rated them were:

1.       Agency administration*

2.       Inadequate / toxic supervisors*

3.       Lack of manpower/training

*administration was defined as officers in positions of decision making “who haven’t worked the front lines in over a decade.”  

*inadequate/toxic supervisors were defined as “lack of balls to do what’s right” and “bully pencil pushers.” 

It’s frustrating and sadly unsurprising to see other agencies of varying sizes, demographics, and geographical areas dealing with the same issues.  My concern is that even though it’s a small-scale poll of first responders, we all thought the same thing…that the top pressures we face in this job are internal to the agency. 

Mind you, the officers in the class were 5-30 years in law enforcement.  I had to take a step back and ask myself this question.  What did I see as pressures in my current position versus a decade ago when I first started? I wasn’t worried about supervision or administration a decade ago.  I wanted to make a name for myself, catch the bad guys, and make it to the calls in time to save people. My response for why I got into law enforcement was because I wanted to be a part of something bigger than myself.  It wasn’t about protecting and serving as much as it was about having the similar comradery with like-minded people as I did in the military. 

If we’re all dealing with the same issues then maybe it’s time we change how we’re doing things.

Number one issue on the list was agency administrators defined as those who are removed from the front lines making decisions based on 20 years ago.  If you’re an administrator and think this doesn’t apply to you then it definitely does.  A lot of things all of you did “back in the day” are no longer allowed.  Comparing your experiences to those of the newer generation of law enforcement is ineffective.  They don’t care what you did 20+ years ago. They care how they’re going to make it 20+ years in this profession now. 

A combined suggestion was to have administration step into the current role of an officer on the front lines taking calls for service, dealing with the underbelly of society, getting reports in on time, making sure you’re evidence is squared away, and hoping everything gets approved so you’re not stuck getting yelled at by your supervisor for messing something up because you’re exhausted at the 10^th hour of a 12 hour / 3 day shift trying to do everything in an ever changing system that requires more paperwork than a paperless system should.  When you’ve had a reminder of what the newer generation is dealing with now then maybe the political/administrative decisions are easier to make that will benefit the future of the agency.  Team building/inclusivity/training came up for some other suggestions, however they fall into the other pressures we face. 

Second on the list is inadequate/toxic supervisors.  If you’re a supervisor recognize that someone in your charge likely thinks you are toxic or inadequate.   We all know some.  There are supervisors who are self-aware and take steps to improve themselves, then there’s supervisors who are oblivious and the administrators need to step in and take action.  A bad supervisor is the quickest way to kill morale and lose good employees.  If you are moved to a squad as a supervisor and everyone starts to flee, maybe it’s time to self-reflect and ask some questions.  

A first impression that made leaders stand apart from supervisors in my experience was after leaders stated their expectations of me, they asked what my expectations were of them.  That environment of effective communication, mentorship, and learning was created from the start (Leadership vs. Supervision is another topic I’ll be sharing my unsolicited opinion on later).  One of my most effective leaders stated that when his employees did the job right it was their fault, and when they did it wrong it was his fault.  This showed ownership and self-awareness that he needed to improve and empower his people to do the job correctly. 

The third pressure, lack of manpower and training, is a multi-layered issue that has too many variables to tackle in one sitting.  For starters, lack of manpower will always be an issue when law enforcement is demonized by the public perception.  Whether it’s the media, the criminals, the family members of criminals, the politicians, and the all encompassed mission of the devil, we are just not the fan favorite.  It’s hard to recruit experience into a profession that guarantees you’ll be a target.  So instead we recruit the able-bodied.  This is usually the 20-year-old college student whom we complain has no life experience.  Whose fault is that?  We hired them.  We need to recognize that they’ve been alive 20 years and therefore have 20 years of life experience.  Just because they haven’t been off to war, had kids, or start off cynical and disappointed like most of you are in your 30’s and 40’s doesn’t mean they don’t bring something important to the table.  Either mentor and guide them to gain experience or stop hiring them. 

Training and manpower go hand in hand, without manpower to cover the duties and responsibilities of the agency, then how do we make time to train? It’s not lack of training that we are facing, it’s lack of people and time to do it. 

The daily horrors of this job are enough to kill us; adding the top pressures mentioned above is why so many of our first responders don’t seek help when it all collides.  We’re sworn to protect and serve, just not ourselves.   

 

Frontline Survival

 

In 2019 I was a guest speaker for a group of writers that I met back in 2008.  The Space Coast Authors of Romance (STAR) is an RWA (Romance Writers of America) chapter here in Brevard County.  I was a part of this chapter up until a few years ago when my schedule changed and life went in a new direction.  I’ve been blessed to keep in touch with several members, some who’ve moved away from the chapter also, but keep encouraging each other as writers. 

For this particular meeting I was asked to be on a Q & A panel focused on first responders.  In the midst of the questions, which ranged from lighthearted to macabre, there were several moments that I found myself speaking on mental health awareness for first responders.  When asked how we deal with the line of duty deaths and stress related to our jobs, a fellow panel member who is also a retired Battalion Chief of a local fire department made a very surreal statement.  He said that in a firehouse they get called out together, show up together, and fight the same fire together, or deal with loss and trauma together, go back to the firehouse together, and are able to work through the stress together.  There’s a much more accepting environment of talking about a rough call and reaching out for help because they are always together.  There have been some who’ve taken their own lives because they weren’t able to shoulder the pain and share their burden, but far fewer than their brothers and sisters in law enforcement.

In my agency and many others, we are one-man cars, showing up on scenes solo where the trauma and tragedy happens often times before backup arrives.  When we clear the chaos we are back in our cars solo.  We continue to patrol solo. And we go home (Godspeed) end of shift solo.  We may have families at home or friends we can call, but we don’t bring that tragedy into conversations with them because we have been programmed to protect them from such horrors as we do the public.  We remain solo in our stress.   We return the next shift and short of squad briefing, we head back out on patrol…solo.  In law enforcement we’ve created an environment of keeping it all in and finding our own ways of dealing with the stress.  Often times pushing loved ones away, picking up a vice such as drinking, and eventually self-imploding when it gets to be too much. 

The use of the agency Employee Assistance Program (EAP) is something we discuss with new hires or would direct certain employees to use if it came to a higher level of intervention, however it's viewed as a negative resource for so many who don't understand it.  A lot of agency members feel like if they use EAP then the agency will know their problems and it will be held against them.  A very real conversation we need to be having is WHY agency members feel this way?  Why, if a deputy is in need of assistance, are they afraid to tell their boss? 

For me, it's from personal experience.  My family was going through a very hard time, and my stress was at a level 10 on a scale of 1-5.  I made the mistake of telling my direct supervisors of my plight and their initial response was less than reassuring.  I was at the point of potentially having to leave the agency.  The first supervisor was someone I wouldn't take advice from, but made the mistake of taking criticism from.

Another supervisor's response was to blame my husband for not stepping up to do more/work more/et cetera so I could stay at the agency.  He didn't even know my husband or children, or anything else about my life that led to this.  That was the last conversation I had with either of them about anything personal.  There was a cold last few months for me on that shift, and it had nothing to do with being winter in Florida.

The third supervisor (I'm low on the totem pole) was the only one who sat with me to really listen to what was going on. He didn't offer solutions or push me to EAP.  He just listened.  Word got up the chain of command to the big boss who spoke to me briefly on a side note to let him know if I needed anything, good luck, and that was the end of it.

Here I was again, solo.  None of them followed up.  No text, no call, no email, no 'how's it going' as they pass me by several times since...except one.  The one who listened.  The rest just knew I was thinking of leaving the agency.  They didn't even bother following up when opportunities arose that I threw my name in for.  Even though I was more than qualified, and on the 'favorites' list, all they remembered was that I was thinking of leaving a year ago.  They don't remember why at this point though.

The growing pains from this is where my faith became a priority.  My personal gratitude was the key to everything I wanted, and opened so many more personal doors for me than the agency ever can professionally.  I've learned that there's resources for first responders and veterans that are private, free, and better equipped to assist individual needs instead of lumping them into a mass category with only one solution to fix it all.  I've networked and met some amazing people who are on the same mission to help others.

There are still opportunities at work that I know I won't be considered for because some will only remember that I was thinking of leaving, but I'll outgrow those who think that's a weakness.  I'll surpass the naysayers, and gratefully take what I learned from this experience to be better, do better, and teach those following me better.  Becoming a woman who knows her worth has more authority in my life than anyone I will ever work for.  

At the conclusion of the Q & A I sat outside of the venue with one of the writers who also happens to be a mental health counselor at a clinic out of county.  She was informative and eager to assist as a resource in my journey to help others who walk the line with me every day.  In my doubt God put me exactly where I needed to be in order to grow in my purpose.  

My path has been lit by stars who encourage me to keep reaching for them.  For that, I’m eternally grateful.  #whileibreathihope

Cast Iron Faith

The other day I was moving my giant piano from one room to the other and the stuff from on top of it was set aside on the kitchen counter.   After moving the piano I started dusting everything to put back on it and I saw one of our Bibles laying on top of my cast iron skillet.  It was one of those 'aha' moments.   Looking at that Bible I was smacked with a lesson in faith. Bare with me.

How do you take care of a cast iron skillet??? If you own one you should know to keep it seasoned and rust free otherwise it will dry out, crack, and eventually break.

One time my husband, God bless him,  was unaware of the care and condition in which you're supposed to keep a cast iron skillet. I had made something greasy in it one day and set it aside to cool, leaving it, and my husband, unsupervised. When I returned to properly clean it I saw my husband had already scrubbed it *cringe* and stacked it with other wet dishes in the side drain *double cringe*. 

Confirming he had placed the HOT cast-iron under COLD running water (pretty sure my ancestors gasped) and used dish soap and an s.o.s. pad to clean it, then left it to air dry.  At that point I'm pretty sure I yelled an expletive (or three) as I grabbed some cooking oil and a paper towel to salvage my cast iron skillet while the oven preheated. If you know, you know. If you don't...bless your heart, let me explain.

Cast iron is a metal that is made by melting iron ore in a blast furnace (really really hot, really really fast).  The liquid iron is 'cast' (poured) and hardened into molds (called pigs no less) and remelted, sometimes more than once, with other metals then recast into molds for whatever product is to be made with it...such as my skillet.

Here's the kicker though, that cast iron skillet you have to use two hands to pick up (and I'm sure thought about using as a weapon of opportunity on your husband who basically put it in the dishwasher to die), is still very fragile.  In order to keep it for a very long time don't soak it, don't drop it, don't let it rust, keep it seasoned, and if you have to wash it use warm water and a brush with coarse salt and oil.  Rinse, repeat, dry it good, wipe it down with oil (all over like the tiger lady used sardine oil on her ex-husband), then put it in a cold oven and heat to 250* for about an hour.

Over time it will show some wear and tear, pitting is common.  If it goes unused and is left in a cabinet for too long you may have to give it a salt bath and season it again, but it's sure to last a lifetime when properly cared for.

Here's the lesson.  Like my cast iron skillet, my faith needs to be seasoned.  Things happen in our lives that will test the strength of our faith, and the process to keep it from 'rusting' is daunting if you let it go for too long.

Salt is referenced in the Bible numerous times as being used to enhance flavor (a seasoning) as well as preserve food.  To 'be salt' (or seasoned) means to deliberately seek to influence the people in one's life by showing them the unconditional love of Christ through good deeds.

Matthew 5: 13-16 states, "You are the salt of the earth, but if salt has lost it's taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled underfoot.  You are the light of the world.  A town built on a hill cannot be hidden.  Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on it's stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house.  In the same way, let your light shine before others, so they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven."

In layman terms, stay salty and lit, and your faith will endure like a well seasoned cast iron skillet.

One Ply Faith

Y'all, my husband is adorable.  With that said, he's also cheap.  I'm all about saving where we can, using coupons, buying brandless,  etc.  However there are a few things you just don't skimp on in life.

One of those things is toilet paper.  My house full of boys (dogs included) would benefit from a direct supplier of this commodity.  It's a given, you're gonna go, and when you do you want to wipe with confidence.  Recently my adorably cheap husband purchased the supply of toilet paper.  I didn't realize how big of a mistake this was until it was too late.

In one of those rushed moments to the restroom, I conducted my business, reached for the roll of toilet paper and immediately felt panic and disappointment.  It was one ply.  Some of you may not know what one ply even feels like, but trust me, you're exposed and vulnerable trying to use it.  After a half roll of one ply to handle business that two ply would've done with much less, I composed myself and sweetly explained to my husband how unacceptable his purchase was.

His response? "Fold it."

No. He. Didn't.  I gave him a sweet kiss on the cheek and walked away.  In all our years together (22 strong) I've learned to look at decisions from his perspective before doing things my way regardless.

No, this whole post isn't about one ply toilet paper, but it sets the foundation of what I want to discuss which is layers in our lives.  Just like one ply toilet paper (and my husband's simple fix), sometimes we have to fold the layers of our faith, our finances, our family, friends, etc. to make them stronger.

In finances you start out with a paycheck as the first layer, or one ply.  Two ply is putting part of that paycheck in savings, then paying bills with the rest.  And you add layers as you invest, and save, and so on.

In family you start out with yourself.  One ply.  You marry and have kids and grow the layers of your family.  If you're lucky you end up buying mega rolls of 3 ply toilet paper from Sam's Club to supply your layers of family.

In friends your one ply is your best friend.  You branch out with layers of friends, some through work, some through church and social settings, and some throughout your life from childhood.

In fitness your one ply is getting off your butt.  Two ply is to keep going.  Motivation and support from the layer of family and friends you've folded into your life is a good start.

In faith, if you're like me, you start out with one ply and fold the crap out of it.  Pun intended!  I've been on one ply with my faith for some time.  There's so much that's happened in our lives I've used as excuses, but it all comes down to me.  No one else is responsible for my faith.  Not my one ply toilet paper buying husband, or our two boys, or our furbrats that rule our home.  Not the needed repairs to our home, or the stress from work, or even the lack of financial layers we should have at our age.  My faith is mine, and I fold it every day from one ply to make it stronger.

It pains me to say this, but my husband is right (there, I said it.  It's in black and white for the world to see!), just fold it.

On the Edge of Faith (*condensed excerpt)

Life decisions are made when we hit the edge. 

In the media, on social sites, and within our agencies we hear of fellow first responders succumbing to their demons and committing suicide.  For the loved ones left to hurt from the loss it’s a selfish act, for the first responder it was a last resort to kill the enemy…themselves.  

As a first responder you see more nightmares than you do dreams come true.  You don’t make it in time to save everyone.  Your personal life suffers the most when you refuse to include your loved ones in your pain, thinking you’re protecting them from the hell you’ve experienced.  The truth is you are exposing them to even more worry and hurt by not sharing your pain.  They don’t understand what you don’t explain. 

We walk through our daily routines of lights and sirens, tone alerts, a bad call, difficult cases, more stressors.  We deal with internal agency friction, difficult supervision, rookie mistakes, political correctness, and public scrutiny…more stressors. 

Then we go home and park our marked patrol cars in our driveways.  To some those cars are a sign of safety and a deterrent.  To us, it’s another target.  I can walk out of my house at any moment and be subject to attack just because of that car or my uniform.  More stressors.  My family is subject to the same attacks because those who wish us harm can target them also.  More stressors.  

We can’t say what we freely want to say to administrators for fear of reprimand; we can’t mention mental health concerns of PTSD for fear of fitness for duty evaluations; we’re ridiculed for our faith if we pray with a victim or mention God in any manner of our work.  More stressors. 

Yet we’re expected to continue to respond to the nightmares, the bad calls, the difficult cases.  We’re expected to remain neutral in our politics, faith, and beliefs.  We have no freedom of speech if it’s contradictory to what the public demands.  We are to show up, pat the bad guys on the head and tell them “no, no, don’t do that again.” We’re expected to use soft handcuffs and kit gloves.  

Our leaders are fighting an uphill battle to maintain personnel with low wages, long hours, and little support from the communities we protect and serve.  The excuse we all hear, “it’s what you signed up for,” is just that, an excuse for those who lack knowledge and experience in this profession to know what it takes to actually do this job.  What we do as first responders (and I’m referring to our brothers and sisters in ALL public service fields) is more worthy of a superstar/pro athlete’s pay than the pansy politicians who demonize us for doing our jobs. 

In one shift I’ve personally resuscitated an addict from overdose, pulled a 6 year old boy from near drowning in a pool, put out a vehicle fire after pulling a family pet from being stuck inside after a crash, climbed a second story balcony to comfort an autistic child who was locked out after his caregiver had a medical emergency then sat with that same child and drew cartoons on napkins for him to color until he had someone else to sit with him, ate my only meal (PB&J) in a then 10 hour shift as I ran lights and sirens to a fatal crash on the interstate only to stand over the remains of a person who made a terrible decision to drive impaired.   One shift.  That’s just one 10 hour shift (now 12s) of the decade I’ve been in law enforcement.  That’s a mild shift compared to some of my peers.  So don’t you dare tell me we don’t need God, mental health awareness, or massive support from our communities, our administrators, and peers to keep doing this job.  

I signed up to protect myself, my family, my loved ones, and my future.  I signed up to help the helpless, guide the lost, and build a safer world for my sons, and that entails taking low life s.o.b.’s to jail who harm others.  No kit gloves, no soft cuffs, no pats on the head and a finger wag “no, no.”  I’m going to give you exactly what you’ve asked for, but don’t want to know or see how it’s done.  I’m here to do my job. I’m showing up to save lives and kick your dumb butt if needed, and I’ll do it with a lot to say and no fear of your opinion.  

I win. I go home.  I show up to do it all again.  I show up for my fellow first responders who felt they could no longer show up.  I show up for my fellow first responders who may be on the verge of taking their own lives because they don’t know how to fight for themselves anymore.  I show up for the families of my fellow first responders who need help understanding.  I show up for the leaders who show up and fight for us to keep doing our job.  

In this job it’s hard to keep a grateful heart and a positive attitude when faced with daily adversity.  Yet here we are, on the edge of faith.  

#showup #faithismyfavoriteFword #firstresponders #purposefilledlife

*I beg everyone who reads this to share local contacts for veterans and first responders to seek help.  

Signs

We’ve all seen them. The cardboard signs with black marker asking for handouts held by a panhandler claiming “homeless”, “out of work”, “disabled”, “hungry”, etc. In my crassness (caused by my profession) my first thought is, where did they find the damn marker? I’m a middle class, full time job working, home/car owning, boss babe/ wife / mom, and for the life of me I can never find a black marker when I need one. Batteries, tape, and toenail clippers are also like matching socks in our home…missing. Yet a homeless person with no claim to material wealth can find a black marker to write on a piece of cardboard whatever they are asking for from the rest of us.

This made me think of the value we place on things. I recently quit drinking soda, and many years ago quit smoking cigarettes. Funny how even when I was ‘broke’ I found a way to feed my addiction. I always seemed to have money for cigarettes. I always put soda on the grocery list. I deemed them a necessity.

The drug addicts who overdose repeatedly, they value their drug of choice for a high and find a way to get it. The suspects we take to jail repeatedly, they value their freedom and find a way to pay for bail. I’m well aware of their means of getting what they value, I just know I’d never get away with the things they do. Why? Because of what I value.

The value of something isn’t always about the financial cost. I value good manners, trust and integrity, hard work. I value my upbringing, beliefs, the freedom I’ve earned for myself and others through sacrifice and service. I value myself. I value the people I surround myself with. My profession reminds me daily that my life isn’t so bad. My problems aren’t so big. And my purpose is greater than anything anyone else plans for me. I’ve learned my own self-worth isn’t based on the opinions of others, my happiness isn’t controlled by others, and the things I’m grateful for aren’t material things. The things I’m grateful for are moments, memories, and feelings, all of which are priceless.

The lesson on value is this: You give people, situations, and things power by placing value and importance on them. If you want better, do better. Start where you are. Be grateful for what you already have. Expect to receive what you want. Live intentionally. Do everything on purpose. Just like a panhandler making their cardboard sign, write down what it is you're asking the universe for. What would your sign say?

Prayer For Protection

Finding a love note in my lunch box from Hubs before a long shift...

Having faith in something, someone, gives it power.  I have faith in my purpose.  And I'm so grateful to live this purpose with others who also have faith in me. 

To my squad,

We all have different experiences, different levels of training and understanding, but the same responsibility to show up.  And you continue to show up.  I'm grateful for all of you. 


To my Hubs,

Twenty-two years together and you still amaze me.  Your prayer of protection was definitely granted that night on shift.  We all went home safe.

I love you more 💙