Patrick McCurdy
I remember as a kid marveling at the fact that I was going to see the year 2000, and the turn of a new century during my lifetime.
Now, we are almost a quarter of a century into this new era. Though technology is changing at a breakneck speed, and the very earth itself seems to be changing, I find a mix of comfort and frustration with how some things are a predictable constant and seem to remain unchanged, despite the inevitable passing of time.
My grandmother was a nurse, my father, mother and uncle were all in Law Enforcement. My brother and I grew up sitting around the table with their friends, surrounded by first responders -nurses, police officers and firefighters, enthralled and intrigued by their exciting stories. I couldn’t wait until I had a chance to chase bad guys and tell stories of my own.
Like any group of people gathering together, the stories that they told were the stories of success and humor and sometimes of tragedies. The groups that had gathered would erupt laughing several times during the conversations. They spoke of strange events, chases, fights and in my mind, valiant heroism.
I didn’t take notice of this then, but I certainly now notice that when we gathered as a group, or a tribe, the stories that I heard were the exciting and cool ones.
I did not hear about the particularly difficult calls, the death investigations, hurt children, life threatening circumstances and the betrayals from people that were supposed to be ‘brothers and sisters’ in the profession with the groups that got together. I certainly heard about those things and saw how negatively they impacted my father in the safety of our home, though.
Over the years, those conscience challenging memories continued to accumulate, and became more poignant, with very negative consequences for my father. The emotional impact of those memories became more noticeable, and his ghosts were taking their toll on him.
We are by nature, tribal beings. We thrive when we are an accepted working part of a community of others who are like us.
Tribal warriors have always gathered together to train, and fight, and talk and mourn together.
Unfortunately, in this modern age, though we still long for those tribal connections with our souls and in our spirits, we have separated ourselves from one another and the divide between us is vast. As police officers, we spend long nights in our patrol cars by ourselves, and firefighters and dispatchers who used to have a strong sense of community now often don’t even cook meals together. When they return to their stations after a call, they often act as individuals, cooking their own meal preferences and them isolating in their room on their phones. We’ve learned to isolate in a room full of people by immersing ourselves in our digital screens and we have lost our tribal connections. While separating and isolating used to be unusual occurrences, they quickly become the normal everyday practice.
My Dad was my hero, and his legendary heroic status was regularly confirmed by the men and women who worked with him and for him when he was a Sergeant. They affirmed this with their own exciting stories of when my dad came in to save them, or when he acted bravely, permanently affixing his status with me and my brother.
My dad often would repeat little snippets of sage advice that I always took very seriously and remembered.
“There is no justice, except at the time of the arrest. Don’t ever expect that bad guy to be put in jail by the courts. They’ll get an attorney and get off on their charges. That’s why you always do a thorough job and make sure that you book them and don’t release them, because it may be the only night that they ever actually spend in jail. Hopefully it’ll scare them straight.”
“Always act as if your Sergeant is standing right behind you, watching you, and you don’t know it.” I later realized that it wasn’t the Sergeant I had to be aware of, but in this modern age, it was the cameras everywhere that are constantly recording, waiting for me to make a mistake that they can put out to the world.
“Don’t worry that you cried at a funeral. That’s what real men do, son. They aren’t afraid to express their emotions, especially after losing a friend.”
“Always, always tell the truth, no matter how hard it may be, and always, always stand up for what it right. Always protect those who can’t protect themselves.”
And among others that I will always remember, one of my favorites that I loved hearing him say because he would always look extremely earnest and serious when he said it, and then would break into his huge characteristic grin afterwards, “Never ever talk to four groups of people, son. Never talk to Politicians, Attorneys, the Media or a damn shrink!”
After several decades on the job, I think that he was right. It seems that politicians can’t be trusted. Attorneys twist what you’re saying. The media misrepresents what really happened during critical events to sensationalize their stories. None of these groups have the best interests of first responders in mind, and actually seem to be more antagonistic than helpful to us.
As first responders, especially in Law Enforcement, we often have an averse relationship with “shrinks”, or clinicians.
Going to therapy is weak.
Counselors don’t understand what we do.
Therapists often have a totally different moral belief system than we do.
We had to take a battery of tests with a psychologist we had never spoken to before who determined if we were ‘stable’ enough to become police officers.
If we are involved in a shooting, or other critical event, we are forced to see a psychologist or psychiatrist who determines if we are ‘ok’ to return to work.
A psychiatrist may prescribe medications that we don’t want to take because they are the same meds that we see being abused by the ‘crazy people’ we deal with.
At work, we often will put an involuntary hold on a ‘crazy person’ to send them to see a clinician.
But, I have definitely learned that my beloved father was definitely wrong about one thing… “Never talk to a damn shrink.”
Despite all of these premonitions, there are actually culturally competent clinicians who do get us and understand what we do and experience, and they can help us to cope with the things that we see repeatedly. Just one of these things might overwhelm an average person, and we often see death, tragedy and experience betrayal multiple times in a year, or even in a single shift.
Perhaps if that wasn’t how my dad felt he might’ve been here a while longer and wouldn’t have passed away far too early from acute stress induced early onset Alzheimer’s disease. Eleven or so decades after my dad first started the job in law enforcement, we know that talking to a person about those difficult situations that we see and experience can be a useful tool that helps us to process these hard memories and to better heal emotionally from them. In fact, data shows that a person who is able to speak about and process a critical event within about a month or so is about 80% less likely to progress from Acute Stress to Post Traumatic Stress. PTS is a more complex affliction, and it can take more effort to heal from.
In my dad’s era, military vets, police officers, firefighters, nurses and other first responders were expected to just keep pushing through and ‘Suck it up”.
In my era, many years later, it seemed that the attitudes were still the same.
Even though peer support teams were becoming a ‘new thing’ when I got hired three or so decades after my dad started, we still saw seeking help as being weak and used the same phrases with the others that we worked with. “I’m good to go.”, “Just pushing through. I’ll be ok.”, “I don’t need that stuff. Let the ones who actually need it go.”
Though peer support teams are now commonplace, and we have grown so much in methodology, belief and practice, why are so many of us, especially leaders still stuck in the, “Suck it up!” mentality?”
My First Critical Incident Debriefing
More than 30 years have passed since I was involved in my first several Debriefings. I still remember them very clearly. Though I thought that I was a consummate tough guy, they had a profound effect on me.
I was 18 and working as a jailer in the police department where I grew up with my brother, tagging along with my Dad as kids.
We had a series of Officer Involved Shootings and other critical events, and we brought in a Peer Support team from another department in a different part of the state. They had, we were told, as a department been involved in more OIS’s that year and the preceding year than any other department in the nation. Because of a combination of need and urgency, they were doing something that was considered to be “a new groundbreaking practice”. They were using Police Officers to debrief their peers with huge success.
I remember when I was told that I would be expected to go to the debriefing. I didn’t know what to expect. I was a bit worried because of my father’s advice about not talking to shrinks. My fears and concerns were not put to rest by the macho-talk of the other officers that were also told they would need to attend. I heard a lot of what I now know is the typical bravado, “Man, what is this crap?”, “I’ve been fine all of this time. This isn’t my first rodeo.”
I also heard a lot of talk about how one of the officers involved was being labeled as a coward because he didn’t shoot an armed suspect fleeing from the scene of a house invasion robbery. They talked about how the gang member had already shot and killed one victim, and might’ve shot and killed an officer because he hadn’t been stopped. When he was finally arrested, it was a dangerous confrontation that almost went awry.
I was certainly a skeptic when I entered the room. The circle of chairs facing the empty center of the room looked like it was going to be awkward. Being a kid trying myself to be a tough-guy and fit in, I mimicked the scowling faces and defiantly folded arms of my friends around me. It didn’t take very long for the experienced team that came to help us to break the ice and earn the respect of the veteran officers in the room encircling them. They clearly were men and women who had, “Been there done that”, and they clearly knew what they were talking about. As they easily cast out our skepticism, something magical began to happen…
People that swore that they wouldn’t say anything began to talk. The tough-guys went from leaning back and disengaged to leaning forward and encouraging one another. As the story started to take shape, and pieces of the puzzle that were previously unknown began to fill in and take shape, and perceptions changed as well.
When the officer that they were accusing of being a coward behind his back spoke, the room fell silent. He explained how he encountered the suspect who didn’t stop at his commands. As he aligned his sights on the gun, the suspect ran towards an elementary school where the playground was filling up with small, laughing children for recess.
The “Coward” had actually exercised amazing and courageous good judgment when he wisely made the tough decision not to shoot the suspect because it would’ve been unsafe with a playground full of small children as his backstop.
The silence remained unbroken for a long moment after he spoke. He was emotional, teary and apologetic.
The first officer to speak was the worst critic. He was highly respected and had served in the military, in combat before becoming a police officer. I looked at my feet because I wasn’t sure what he was going to say, and could feel the tangible tension in the room.
What he said was profound, and will always stick with me. He said, “I’m going to be honest. I thought you were a coward. I was speaking openly about it. I’m sure you have probably heard what I was saying. I didn’t even care. I wanted you to know how I felt.”
He paused, “I was so wrong, and I’m so sorry brother.”
“What you did required a huge amount of self control and good judgement. I hope you can forgive me.” The two both had tears streaming down their cheeks, and they shed their tough-guy personas and hugged… and a Tribe that still remains friends was forged in that moment.
That’s when I became a believer in peer support. If that had not been revealed during the process, that wound and that undeserved reputation might never have been washed away. That officer would have struggled under the weight of that misaligned title, and the others would have ostracized him. As we continually see in the headlines, people who are ostracized often don’t fair very well. Being ostracized and isolated from our tribal groups are some of the core feelings that can lead down a dangerous path to suicide, one of the top killers of our first responders. Sadly, suicide is the most preventable type of death. Also preventable, is dying from the effects on the brain caused by Post Traumatic Stress Injury, like what happened to my father.
I went through several more CISD’s before I finally became a member of a peer support team and began helping others through the process. Now, after more than 30 years, I remain a stalwart believer and supporter of the function and purpose of peer support.
I’ve had the fortune of seeing teams grow from just police officers, or just firefighters that only debrief separately, to mixed-discipline teams. I got to see our dispatchers included in the process after they’d been overlooked and hadn’t been included for far too long. Now I’m excited to see lots of other support personnel, like records clerks, evidence technicians, EMT’s and others included in the teams. We’re even sometimes discarding the old beliefs that our Chiefs and administrators should not be included and we are finding ways to support them as well.
The processes have improved significantly as well, as the knowledge of trauma informed counseling and crisis care have evolved. More and more departments are prioritizing peer support and building teams.
When I started, my dad said, “I wish we had done things like that 30 years ago.” It puzzles me that we still have a significant number of first responders saying, “I wish we had done this 30 years ago.”, like my dad said more than 30 years ago himself.
Though we’ve been on this road a long time, it doesn’t seem as if we’ve journeyed as far as we should have. It seems as if these proven practices should be the common norm everywhere, and we should not still have people using the outdated expression, “Suck it up, buttercup.”
Regardless, as long as I am alive, I am going to continue to push peer support forward, not backward, even if the movement is slow and the steps are small.
I’m determined to do everything I can to keep us from unnecessarily losing more of our courageous brothers and sisters who suffer silently because of the things that they’ve experienced and seen during their lives of service to others.
If you work as a first responder and your department does not yet have any semblance of a peer support team, if your team has collapsed and needs to be rebuilt, or if your team is in need of practice and training, we have very experienced peers and clinicians that can help you to move forward and to be prepared for those big events that undoubtedly lie just over the horizon. We teach the best practice, proven processes, and incorporate the latest techniques. We also will help you to understand how confidentiality laws have changed and how they affect what we are doing.
The Counseling Team International has been doing exactly these things for many years, and we are excited to help you out in any way that we can.
