I was rescued by the United States Coast Guard. On an average day, in addition to all of the other duties and responsibilities - maritime law enforcement sorties, drug interdiction operations, pollution investigations, marine inspections, security boardings, and infrastructure waterborne patrols - assets of our nation's smallest military will preserve $1.2 million in property and conduct 45 search and rescue cases. And ten lives will be saved. Ten. Each day. Since 2000, each year, the Coast Guard saves more than 4,500 individuals.
But I'm not one of those. No. The Coast Guard saved me in another way.
A year ago this month, a substantial, often times burdensome, cornerstone ingredient of my life and who I had become as a person ended. I had been a law enforcement officer for most of my existence on this planet. And as most police officers will tell you, it was far more than a job. It was a compass. My morale bearing, which shaped my vision of life and lives. My life and the lives of everyone I touched, both personally and professionally, and both good and bad.
It takes a certain kind of person to become a public servant. You are giving yourself to others. Every. Day. You experience the underbelly of society. The sickness that plagues our world. And yet, you continue to give, to sacrifice, to care, and to protect. To do, what you believe, is the right thing.
When I was a freshman in college, I had competed in soccer for 13 or so years to that point. As with being a police officer later in life, playing European football was who I was. I loved playing it, just as I would revere my career in law enforcement years later. But during practice one August afternoon, I felt excruciating, searing pain in the lower half of my right leg. I dropped. And that was essentially the end of it. My soccer days were behind me. I suffered an extensive linear tear of my gastrocnemius muscle. Scar tissue developed as deep tissue massages by my team's trainer tried to keep it at bay. But there were no more intense hill climbs or sprints. Spirited practices or fierce games. I had to hang up my cleats. My days of playing the game I loved for years was no longer within my capacity. Bullshit, I thought. I was not ready to have it end. It was my call to make when I wanted to make it. Yet, there are some influences that are out of my control. I could've limped along, but that wasn't my creed. I wanted to be the best I could be in whatever I committed myself to.
And just like as that muscle rip was one of many I suffered while running up and down grass fields, I sustained injuries as well during my professional career running from call to call. Hence, when I had to hang up my gun and badge, like the cleats and shin guards before them, I did so, not because I wanted to, but because I had to. The time had come. Policing is a young person's game. All my traumas caught up with me. Scars and fractures riddled inside me.
But serving others does not leave you. It is you. So, I needed something. I could feel myself starting to drown in emptiness and loss. By November 2019, I was wrapping up my sixteenth year in the Coast Guard Reserve and had stepped into serving again as my lifeblood. The Coast Guard, as it has done longer than any other military branch in our country's history, threw a lifeline out and saved another. This time, it was me. I grabbed a hold of the opportunity to go on active duty and clutched it tight. Although my CG career field has been and still is maritime law enforcement, I am gleefully performing other duties and responsibilities completely unrelated. I provide direct logistics support to the fleet, like the mighty United States Coast Guard Cutter BERTHOLF, the first National Security Cutter (NSC) for a Coast Guard fleet undergoing an historic recapitalization of its surface assets.
This second wind for me is a godsend. I help deter the Chinese. Interdict drugs. Ensure ports are secure and the boating public is safe. I help save lives. It's the least I can do with the United States Coast Guard rescuing me. Like the fishing boat in the Bering Sea that calls for the mayday during a torrid storm, the Coast Guard came.
To those of you struggling out there or wandering aimlessly and hoping for a lifeline, keep your head up. Keep treading water. It'll come.
