Fingers Crossed

Well, I stepped out into it...the unknown.

I had been mulling it over for a couple of years.  Really, it started when I rolled the dice and applied to speak at a C.O.P.S. national conference on law enforcement wellness.  I had attended the same one the year before and had also solidified many elements to my agency's wellness initiative that I had been working diligently on for the previous year or so.  So, the bug was planted and I thought, "I think I could do this."  I mentioned it to my better half and began to nudge me to give it a shot.  So, I did.  And I got it.  I was chosen as a presenter at this distinguished gathering of police officers, mental health workers, and government officials.  Certainly, I was stoked.  But I was also intimidated.  I was going to speak, as a subject matter expert on developing a wellness program for my police department, to my peers.  Most cops will tell you flat out, despite our everyday interaction with the public, we hate speaking.  Well, I was no different.

But I also wanted to make a difference and that was my motivation.  I wanted to help push agencies, administrators, and officers into action in order to better help my brothers and sisters.  For themselves.  For their families and loved ones.  For all of us.  Because, quite frankly, too many of us were suffering and I wanted to do my part.

Little did I know that the experience was a game changer for me.  I got hooked.  I enjoyed being the point guy on giving out info and maybe even the catalyst for someone else to get busy with their own agency.  I went on to speak at several other conferences throughout the country.  Still, I wasn't satisfied with being in this holding pattern and I wanted to keep going.  OK, so, what was the next step in this progression?  I had been there when my love took a gamble, left her W2 gig, and started her own biz.  The initial struggle was challenging.  The uncertainty was real.  But as she heads into her second year, she's more than made it.  That was inspiring.

And scary.  That's a hell of a ledge.  I've got zero business or entrepreneurial experience.  Except...wait a tic, does Shark Tank count?  If so, then yes!  I do.  Alright, moving on...nonetheless, I felt that was my next move.  I mulled it over...and over...and over.  I talked about it with her as well as my great friend, whom I wanted to come in on it with me.  He has tremendous experience, both professional and personal, and I knew he was passionate about helping others.  I was glad when he hopped on with me for this venture.

So, here we are.  I filed the paperwork several weeks ago with the state, got established, chose a name, created a website, designed a killer logo (yes, I'm biased), and drafted the services to be provided.  Yesterday, I officially let it out into the world and opened up Healing The Blue, LLC for business.  Yes, it sounds familiar, but there's purpose in a name.  We will be providing services to help first responder agencies jump start or enhance their wellness programs.  We can provide training, we can conduct networking and partnership opportunities that will help secure elements of the program, and we can develop a website for the program that will serve as a safe, confidential online portal of resources and information.  All of this in an effort to get first responders the help they need when they need it and to encourage health and wellness among those that put their lives out there to help others.  Let's help them.  Spread the word.  If you know or are with an agency that could our assistance, please reach out.  Do not hesitate.  Check us out.

We are Healing The Blue. 

As always, be well and be safe.

Hang On. Help Is On Its Way.

I've had a pretty shitty time as of late.  But I was driving on the interstate the other day, passing a dump truck.  We've all seen them.  Covered in dirt coming from or going to a job site.  Some of them have some simple phrase hand scribbled in the filth, probably from one of their fellow drivers, that says something like "Clean me" or "Show me your...".  This one had one of those "dirty" notes.

"Help is on the way".  A cross inscribed in the grime as well.

I should've taken a picture of it.  But, um...I was driving and I didn't want to jeopardize my fellow motor vehicle operators.  I wanted to be responsible.  Nonetheless, it took me a bit for that message to really resonate with me.  I sat on it for the rest of the drive.  Sticking it in the back of my mind for when I could put more attention to it.

Here's the thing with stress and trauma, it knows no boundaries.  It has no limits and it doesn't care who you are.  A few years ago, I was sitting at a table.  It was a peer support team meeting, so the other attendees filling up the rest of the room where all team members, mostly police officers.  But this was no ordinary meeting.  A sister police officer and team member had just died.  It was one of those complete horseshit deaths as well.  She inadvertently mixed one of her prescription drugs with an over the counter medication.  The combination proved fatal.  It was completely unexpected and, as you can imagine, devastated many on the team.

So, we were in this meeting and the team sergeant started it off by asking how people were doing.  We went around the room and took turns.  As we made our way around, I heard person after person stick to the same theme.  Each talked about the big stressor in the their life at the moment...the in-laws were staying over, one of the kids was sick, someone had to put a dog down, and on and on.  And then it got to me.  Like the rest, I could've easily rattled off something that was chapping my ass at the time.

I sat for a second and then remarked on the trend I had been hearing from the others.  There will always be something.  Always.  If it's not this, it's that.  We will constantly have to face an obstacle, however small or towering, to climb over, work through, or take care of.  Instead, what we should do is focus on preparing ourselves for that next inevitable shit storm.  I've been getting repeated jabs lately from life and was recently on the receiving end of a mean cross that connected pretty firmly.  It knocked me down.  Hard.

And it was then, as I was laying on the mat so to speak, that I saw that grimy ass looking truck with its piercing message.  "Help is on the way."  If there's one good thing that I've been able to take from the repeated traumas and incidents I've been exposed to over and over throughout my career, it is that I have acquired the mindset that there is always something else to prepare for.  Now, make no mistake, I am not saying or implying that those experiences made for a good foundation for my mental wellness in dealing with those repeated traumas.  In other words, I didn't better prepare myself for the "the next thing" by going through those experiences.  I just knew that something else was coming after the one I was in was over.  Still, perhaps there's some benefit to that, at least.

Adopting coping skills to help handle the stress and trauma is important.  A few years ago, when I sat down in my therapist's chair following the first couple of sessions, she told me about mindfulness.  I was a little weary.  But I had nothing to lose.  I needed some help and I first sought out therapy because I knew my lack of coping tools was a problem and hindering my ability to get through my most traumatic experiences.  In other words, I couldn't do it myself, knew it, and went for help.  At that point, pride was a nonissue.  Well, that mindfulness exercise was incredible.  I was hooked.  I've since told others about it and have continued to use it myself, along with some other coping techniques.  Here are a few good ones (don't knock them until you try them):

• Mindfulness (OK, you weren't expecting that...?)
• Breathing exercises (for us coppers, also known as "tactical breathing", ya know, to make it more cool and acceptable)
• Grounding
• Journaling
• Aromatherapy (yes, that's rights boys, certain scents, like lavender, can help settle you down)

When I finally arrived home and parked, I had time to reflect on the message of that truck.  Help is on the way.  By recognizing several years ago, when I was going through my "shit" (read earlier blogs), that what I was dealing with was beyond my scope and capacity, I was able to get help and acquire tools for the future.  And now, as I still feel the sting of my latest hit, I know I can help myself.  Oh, I will need the assistance of others, at times, no doubt.  We all should, actually.  I find refuge in the love of my life.  But first things first, I gotta pull myself up.  And that's what I'm doing.

So, prepare yourself 'cause something will always come.  But also know, that if you do get knocked down, help is on its way.  Reach out for it.  Right, LRB?

State Park Peace Officer Steve Bier

Here is Steve. 

Steve had a great sense of humor and a tremendous love and dedication to the desert of Southern California.  He was knowledgeable about the desert flora, worked with volunteers, and lead the annual count of Desert Bighorn Sheep.  “He was everywhere,” said Ernie Cowan, the president of the Anza-Borrego Foundation.  “He had an incredible breadth of knowledge about things in the park and an amazing dedication.  He would spend time during his days off doing what he did every day as a ranger.”

In California, there are two series of state park peace officer, the park ranger and lifeguard.  Each is a POST-certified police officer with statewide authority.  Most people undervalue the park officer, but these servants perform public safety duties, conduct patrols of vast wildlands, perform search and rescue, manage crime scenes, conduct investigations, and much more. 

Steve was dedicated in every way to the protection and preservation of natural resources for future generations.  “He was unique individual,” Cowan said.  “He was larger than life in many ways.” 

On 29 March 2018, Steve Bier was found dead with a self-inflicted gunshot wound.  He left behind a wife, also a park officer, and a son. 

This year, I also ride for Steve. Please help me honor him here.

Patrolman Max Scherzer

This is Max.

Since he was a kid, Max had wanted to be a police officer.  He wanted to help people.  Max worked out at the gym and, because of his gregarious personality, he was well liked and well known.  He would eventually meet a young woman who was a neighbor in his condo complex.  And, as April, his wife, would put it, they "fell madly in love.  We never spent a day apart."

He was funny.  April told me that one time he screamed “like a girl” because he stepped on a rabbit in a field in the middle of the night as he and other officers were searching for someone.  I can only imagine the mileage that story got among his friends.  Max was a practical joker as well.  He listed a live monkey for sale on Craigslist and used another officer's number as the contact.  While on the job, Max would let his arrestee's sometimes chose the music they wanted to hear as he transported them to jail. 

Max prided himself on integrity and strong morals.  So, it was crushing to him when he was arrested for DUI after wrecking into a street sign.  One of his lieutenants picked him up and dropped Max off in his driveway at 2:30 AM.  He was devastated. 

On 21 August 2016, Max Scherzer shot himself in the head.  He was a husband.  A father of 4 month old twins. 

This year, I ride for Max.  Please help me honor him here.

The Push Continues

AN UPDATE...The original numbers of police suicides were under reported.  They were, sadly, too low.  I've updated this post with the new numbers from Blue H.E.L.P..  They make this effort to raise awareness and encourage action from policymakers and police administrators even more necessary, more critical.

This is a quick entry.  And I'll get right to the point...This year, I will once again ride in the Police Unity Tour.  And again, it'll be for those that took their own lives.

 

Each year, more police officers commit suicide than are killed feloniously by someone else.  That is a fact.  And it is my mission to ride for those officers who died by their own hands, but dedicated no less of themselves for the service and protection of their communities.

To date, statistics from the group Blue H.E.L.P. are that 148 law enforcement officers killed themselves last year.  Yeah, you read that correctly.  One.  Four.  Eight.  148.  To put that into perspective, the National Law Enforcement Officers Memorial Fund has listed 128 as "traditional" line of duty deaths for 2017.  NOTHING is killing us more than ourselves.

Every 61 hours, an officer is killed in the line of duty.  Shot and killed.  Or drowned during a rescue.  Struck while on a traffic stop.  Or suffered a heart attack during training.  Those are traditional and, quite frankly, "accepted", as it were, line of duty deaths.

But then, every 59 hours, one commits suicide.

In 2018, I will ride in honor of these peacemakers.

• Police Officer Max Scherzer, Westampton Township (NJ) PD
  EOW 21 August 2016
  Max left behind a wife and two infants, at the time, 4 months old.
• Detective Jeffrey Wentz, Ontario (CA) PD
  EOW 24 June 2017
  Jeffrey left behind a wife and two children.
• State Park Peace Officer Steve Bier, California State Parks
  EOW 29 March 2017
  Steve left behind a wife and a young son.

Please go to my fundraising page to support me here.  Spread the word.  Break the stigma.

It is time to stop what is killing us... 

Thank you.