Robin Williams Was a Cop

As with any celebrity death, the news out of Hollywood spreads like wildfire and, many times, dominates the news media for a day or two.  Most times, I could give a shit, quite frankly.  I mean, actors are human, just like you and me...they bleed.  And they die.  Sometimes by their own hands.  When it gets right down to it, they are no different than you and me.  So, one of them dies.  So, what?  People die all the time...lots of them horrible and tragic deaths.

But Robin Williams was different.  He was magical.  And for those of us that suffer and fight the demons in our sometimes endless battles...he was a savior.  There was nothing that he didn't say that wasn't profound, showing intellectual penetration or emotional depth.  Whether it was his balls to the wall humor or his somber, cerebral side, Robin Williams' words meant something.   And that was a rarity.  His raw, unabated humor gave us moments, however brief, of escape and pure pleasure.  It was incredible.

Robin Williams was just funny as shit.  He was unmatched.  I'd watch him in amazement.  You could almost literally see his mind race through the thoughts he quickly twisted and turned into jokes and tales.  He seemed to be always on.  And, at times, I stopped and thought, "jesus, does this guy ever slow down?  Does he rest?"

Clearly, he was fighting a never ending war.  He suffered from severe depression and battled with substance abuse for many years.  Through all of his humor, Robin Williams was dying inside, unable to tame the beast as it ravaged his mind and soul.

Now, what if Robin Williams was a cop?  How would he have handled all of this human despair that we witness and confront on a regularly?   If people who commit suicide, or battle with depression, or suffer from PTSD have a propensity for these conditions and illnesses due to genetics, a chemical imbalance or what have you, how long would Robin Williams have lasted?  Maybe he'd have killed himself years ago, unable to bear the pain...like so many of our brothers and sisters in blue.  It's not a knock on him, but the reality is...he seemingly had the ability to utilize a plethora of effective and extensive resources at his disposal given his financial wealth and social status.

But he wasn't a cop.  (Thank god...could you imagine?  I'd have gone on every call with him, no matter how mundane it sounded when it would've been dispatched.) Yet, if Robin Williams,  a celebrity who could literally chose the clinic, the therapist, or the doctor he wanted, succumbs to his demons, where does that leave us...the vilified police officer who can barely make ends meet and works in a profession that harbors this obese stigma for those who suffer from the "weaknesses" of PTSD, depression,  anxiety,  etc.?  For me, his loss is heartbreaking.  His masterful humor kept my head above water many days.  I know, though, I'll continue to do whatever it takes, even now with this one less avenue of escape.  I will persevere.  But some of us, simply don't make it.  The challenge, the fight can be daunting.  Money is tight.  EAPs are skeptical.  Administrators are unresponsive.   And peer support is weak.

Chew on this...More police officers die each year by their own hands than by felonious gunfire.  Yeah, can you believe that shit?  In 2012, there were 125 line of duty deaths, 48 of which were by gunfire.  By comparison,  an International Journal of Emergency Mental Health study reported 126 police suicides that same year.  It's estimated that between 125 and 150 of our brothers and sisters take their own lives each year.  We need to sound the alarm.  We need to start taking care of ourselves and looking out for one another.  Far too many times, good, devoted people give up simply because there is no support to help guide them through the darkness.  In the end, Robin Williams couldn't find his way out.

Rest in peace, Mr. Williams.  Your time with us was fantastical and sobering.

"You will have bad times, but they will always wake you up to the stuff you weren't paying attention to. "   
~ Robin Williams

Cop 2 Cop 866-Cop-2Cop
Call Safe Now 206-459-3020
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National Police Suicide Foundation 443-889-5666

A Seed Was Planted

I just transferred back to mids, or graveyard or overnight or whatever you call it.  I enjoy mids.  Of course, the calls you get aren't the "petty" ones like my kid won't listen to me, or a customer is yelling at me, or someone just dented my car when they parked and now they're inside the doctor's office, or any other mediocre type call.  Generally,  I can't stand them...people almost never try and work out their own problems first.  They call us right out of the gate.  On mids, though, it's almost always "the shit hit the fan" calls.  And you can get there quick.  And you don't have to deal with admin...yada, yada.

But it can be dead as hell sometimes.  And that can be a good thing.  The quiet allows me to find some peace, however brief most times, in the up-and-down, chaotic world of public safety.  During that solace, I can return to calm and allow, not only my body, but, more importantly, my mind the chance to rest.  I close my eyes.  Not to sleep, but to see those white capped mountains I go to when I'm in yoga.  To imagine the sunlight raining down and nourishing me.

Of course...If you have some fucked up things going on in your life, like me, then, well, dead as hell midnight shifts can sometimes suck.  Naturally, on this particular night, not too long ago, it did.  My mind was racing.  Again.  More intrusive thoughts, more wild imagination,  more feeling super shitty about my life.  And so, I got to thinking...I'm a police officer, right?  My job involves potential serious danger, life-and-death decisions, and regular interactions with shitbirds, right?  And there are significant benefits, from my employer, from the state, from the feds, from the FOP, and from others, that would be bestowed upon my beneficiaries upon my death if it were to occur while in the performance of my duties, right?  This bullshit with my wife and all the past, accumulated trauma, and depression hurts like a bitch, right?  And my interactions with her only bring her and me seemingly endless heartache and misery, right?

And then there it was.  That seed was planted in my itty bitty brain...if I were to suffer a line of duty death, problem fucking solved.  Right?  I mean, she gets a nice chunk of change to pay off the house and other debt, set aside some for our daughter's education, and probably even have a little left to play with all while the pain and bullshit - for everyone - goes away.  Now, there was no way in hell I would ever jeopardize another officer and I wouldn't alter my officer safety tactics.  But, you know, if it happened, well, it happened.  So, I got to thinking...is that any different than committing suicide outright?  I don't know.  I never had any of these thoughts before.  My life had never been in such despair. 

I chewed on that hard for the rest of the shift.  And the thought, however faint now, has been quietly buried in the back of my mind ever since.  But it's there.  Planted.  I don't think it'll necessarily ever go away, but I'm confident I'll plow over it and plant something else in its place.  Something fruitful.  I have no intentions of giving up the fight.  I am a warrior.  And my daughter needs me as I need her.  This illness that has invaded me will not prevail.  I will triumph.

But I know, it's still there.  Like the princess and that damn pea in the mattress...I can feel it still.  Buried. 

I dreamed I was missing
You were so scared
But no one would listen
'Cause no one else cared
After my dreaming
I woke with this fear
What am I leaving
When I'm done here? 
So if you're asking me I want you to know

When my time comes
Forget the wrong that I've done
Help me leave behind some
Reasons to be missed
And don't resent me
And when you're feeling empty
Keep me in your memory
Leave out all the rest
Leave out all the rest

Don't be afraid
I've taken my beating
I've shared what I made
I'm strong on the surface
Not all the way through
I've never been perfect
But neither have you
So if you're asking me I want you to know

When my time comes
Forget the wrong that I've done...

Forgetting
All the hurt inside you've learned to hide so well
Pretending
Someone else can come and save me from myself
I can't be who you are

When my time comes
Forget the wrong that I've done...

Forgetting
All the hurt inside you've learned to hide so well...

"Leave Out All the Rest"      ~ Linkin Park