If you read my first blog post, you know that my purpose here is to share my story, and (hopefully) hear the stories of others. I have been through a lot in the last few years. I have faced some really dark moments. And while the circumstances of my story may be different, I have learned that everyone goes through their own unique battles. Everyone faces dark moments. However, the true difference in everyone’s stories is how good each individual is at hiding their pain. For the longest time, I excelled at hiding my pain.

Now, before I dive further in to my story, let me point out that I am not trying be a downer here. It’s quite the opposite, actually. I have a great life. I am currently in a great place. And for most of us, if we stop and reflect long enough, I would guess that the good outweighs the bad. But when the bad strikes—as it always does—it can really, really suck. And when we are in the middle of the “suck,” we need to know that we’re not alone. Real stories do just that; they let us know that someone out there understands.

The Bottom

I’m going to begin at the bottom. That way, as I tell the rest of my story, things keep getting better. Sounds logical, right? Let me start by saying that I’m not an overly emotional man. (Yeah, I know my fire department buddies are calling B.S. at that statement.) But seriously, I can count on one hand how many times I cried between my toddler years and about five years ago. And about a year ago, I was crying all of the time.

The path to “the bottom” for me was somewhat of a slow fade. In fact, it was a fade that had been happening for about two and a half years. The weird thing is, for the bulk of that time, I didn’t know I was spiraling. You see, in April of 2015, my mother died unexpectedly. (That’s something for another blog post.) Hindsight has shown me that this was a very pivotal moment. I know, it should have been obvious to me at the time, but I’m a moron, so…

For now, I will simply say that I did not take time to grieve the death of Mom. As a paramedic and firefighter, I simply did what I had learned to do with death, I shoved it down into that box inside me labeled, things to never deal with. (Like I said, I’m a moron!) Yes, things sucked for a bit after Mom died, but I powered forward. I focused on the bachelor’s degree program I had recently started. I focused on helping my father get his finances and other business in order. (That had been Mom’s job.) I focused on everything—but grief. And for the longest time, I was getting along just fine; or so I thought.

Fast forward about a year. I needed to make up a couple credits I was missing to be eligible for graduation in the fall. To do this, I opted to write a “life learning” paper. This was a pretty intense research paper on a topic to be assigned by my academic advisor; and to be written in relation to my personal experiences. My topic assignment you ask? “Death, Dying, and Bereavement.” (Thanks, Mr. Advisor. Ya jerk!) At the time, I didn’t think a lot about it. I simply got to work. I knew I could disassociate myself from the topic enough to write a good paper. But as I laid out my outline and began doing some research, things got weird. I began to recall traumatic scenes I had been involved in over the course of my career; many of these events happened years ago. My dreams often placed me back at my mother’s side as her vitals ceased. I began having trouble sleeping—not that I have ever been great at that. Suffice it to say, the downward spiral that actually began a year earlier was starting to demand my attention. While it was getting harder to do, I just shoved these things into that overloaded box I mentioned earlier. I was too busy to deal with this crap! I had a job to do! 

Speaking of jobs, as all this was happening, I had also competed for, achieved, and accepted a promotion at the fire department. And much to my dismay, within weeks, I realized that this move to the fire prevention bureau was a huge mistake. This in and of itself was extremely stressful. I was feeling way out of my element. I was no longer part of the fire suppression team that I loved. I was doing a lot of work on my own which made me feel isolated. Simply put, I quickly recognized that I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I took this new position. The wheels of my mental health buggy felt like they were about to fall off. Things couldn’t get any worse, could they?

The only thing I could think of to do was take a long weekend away with my wife and girls to regroup. It was at this point that I was barely sleeping four or five hours a night at best. I hoped that getting away from work, school, and the pressure I was placing on myself to muscle through would somehow provide a cure. But as I lay awake that night in the hotel room, unable to shut off my brain, my phone rang. Long story short, my 38 year old brother suffered sudden cardiac arrest and died…

How in the hell could this happen?!

There is so much more there, but that too is another blog post—maybe. I felt lost. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted to run away. (I probably would have if I didn’t have my wife and girls to care for.) Instead, I kept powering through as best I could. But I cried. I didn’t eat much. Sleep? What in the world was sleep? I took an extra couple weeks off of work to pull myself together. But as I look back, I really took the extra time to figure out how to avoid processing my emotions.

When I came back to work, I had made a decision. I would return to the fire suppression division and resume the career path I had known. Some could argue that it was a horrible time to make such a decision, but it turned out to be a really good one. That was one stressor that immediately subsided. (And just so you know, today it continues to be a choice I am glad I made.) Things were once again feeling better. I was back to being part of a team. I had completed my life learning paper (although I had to place it on the back burner for a while) and I was preparing to graduate the following spring with a bachelor’s degree—finally. Life was good.

So I graduated (cum laude, thank you very much!). And a couple months later, I was promoted to lieutenant. I was back to advancing on the career track I had started. Again, life was good—until it wasn’t!

More to come next week.

Be well…

P.S. If you have a story to tell and would like to join Jim Ladiski Writes as a guest blogger, please contact me!