All The Training In The World Can't Prepare You For This

First Responders face challenges we never did in the military.

Working with first responders has been eye opening. The enormity of unresolved trauma and stuffed emotion they carry around is palpable. I can see it and feel it in sessions. Like most high performers, the common belief many of them hold is, “I’ll just deal with it later.” But later never comes. “I need to go, go, go if I want to get ahead.” But such an addiction to the next moment leaves them empty in the present. They’re never happy.

I’ve always believed a police officer’s job, for example, to be way harder than anything I ever did as a SEAL because, after all, we had top tier training, resources, selection processes, and a culture with a common purpose that left zero room for BS. Not so with police.

Police lack funding. They lack resources. They lack a suitable selection process that weeds out, well, weeds. Don’t get me wrong, there are cracks in every system—even ours—but some cracks really disrupt the entire foundation. Their training is limited and when they do have the opportunity to train, it’s the last thing they want to do after a 12 or 16-hour day. Unfortunately, police are expected to perform any range of tasks with this lack of training, such as rescuing a cat out of a tree on one call to confronting a barricaded shooter on the next. Don’t even get me started about family—that’s a whole other post.

Now, many situations can be trained for. Even killing can be trained for. In David Grossman’s book On Killing, he shared a study conducted by S.L.A. Marshall, who found a low ratio of rounds fired vs. hits for soldiers in WWII. He attributed this to the soldiers’ humanity and growing up in an equitable society. Now, while such a benevolent disposition may make for a great civilian, it makes for a terrible soldier. So, new training was instituted to improve soldiers’ hit rates, such as switching from bull’s eye targets to silhouettes to mirror the human form that the soldier would see on the battlefield. Distances changed, too, from 300 yds down to 20 yds.

However, these weren’t the only factors that led to an increased hit rate. Camaraderie was important. Support from leaders and peers for soldiers’ actions was important. Justification for why soldiers pulled the trigger was important. Unfortunately, many of these are missing in police culture.

But there was one thing the soldiers couldn’t train for—one thing that still, to this day, contributes to the psychological weight a soldier or police officer carries around with them. This one thing invades, akin to the silent warrior I talked about in the article the silent warrior is killing one’s mental health.

This one thing shows up unannounced. Unwanted. Unasked. It’s shameless and it doesn’t care if you’re sitting with your friends, giving a speech in front of an audience, or driving in your car. This subtle invader shows up whenever the hell it wants for as long as it wants, or until it’s finally acknowledged. Like an annoying little brother who just won’t stop tugging on your shirt tail, this little invading bastard just wants to be part of your life, and the more you push it away the stronger it shows up. Just like that annoying little brother, it persists because you resist.

What is this thing, you ask? Grief.

I’ve had several clients come into therapy to talk about grief. In two cases, the clients experienced death of more than one family member within a week. These are police officers, and in the areas they serve they see death weekly, sometimes daily. But when it comes to losing someone close to you, there’s just no training for that. No protocol for how to deal with loss because, here’s the thing: it’s not just the person you lost, it’s the future you had with them. The shared joy. The good times. The memories to be made. The hope of a future together. And now that hope is gone, abandoned by the memories of the past which, by definition, are “gone” too. That’s what makes loss so difficult. It’s just an empty void that continues to be empty.

In both client cases, neither officer afforded themselves time to grieve. They just packed the grief away somewhere deep down in their soul and carried on with the job—until they couldn’t any longer. Hence the reason why they’re in therapy.

I have, unfortunately, experienced a lot of grief in my life. I have 57 pictures of friends I’ve lost that are stored on my phone—including one of my best friends—and that’s not all of them. That’s why I always say that the 13 years I spent as a SEAL were what prepared me to become a therapist. Anyway, I share this because there’s a lot to talk about when it comes to grief, such as:

• What it is and isn’t

• Why it’s easier for some people to grieve and harder for others

• What works and what doesn’t

• Whether it’s an emotion or state of being

• Myths about grief

In my next article, I’ll share the most important takeaway a recent client of mine had pertaining to grief. It’s so simple, so profound, and can be applied toward any uncomfortable emotion, not just grief.

Thanks for reading!