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We seem to have recurring themes in each publication, that of addiction and coping with mental health problems. Please take a few minutes to learn about Station House Retreat in this issue, a place for first responders exclusively to find help and recovery for coping with their demons.
Thank you for your continued support.
Stay safe and HUGS,
Peggy Sweeney, Editor
830.377.7389
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Pride Kept Me from Reaching Out for Help
by James "Jimmy" Thomas
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Thank you Peggy Sweeney, Don Prince and the Station House Retreat team  for allowing me to contribute to their blog site. My story isn't very different from many others in emergency services. Anyone working in the fire, medical or policing professions will see some horrific sights in their careers. Over time, some may become affected by the jobs that they are entrusted and expected to perform. That doesn't make them weak or less than anyone else. It makes them human and for reasons yet to be clearly proven; some will become afflicted with an Operational Stress Injury. This is my story and a plea to never allow false pride to keep you from reaching out for help if you need it.
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She walked into the station, 
The girl with her legs mangled a year ago
Wrapped impossibly around the pedals
Folded like an accordion by the weight of the dash
Smashed and broken
When her car slid gracefully across the ice
Headlong into the fire truck.
I watched my son relive the moment,
Holding onto his harness, his partner not even belted in yet,
Just pulling out of the station on a call. The crash and then
Grabbing the sides of his seat,
The truck careening across a field, threatening to roll
This close to a tree, the shock, the screaming,
Running to the car, sliding tools across the icy road.
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Station House Retreat is a treatment facility in south Florida exclusively for first responders with addiciton. Their residence and group sessions will provide an opportunity to interact with their peers. Our support staff consist of current or former first responders, some of whom are in recovery or living life to the fullest with their post traumatic stress. We offer small group settings for our recovery program as well as mental health therapy including a trauma treatment curriculum, which provides the skills necessary to cope with the devastating, and often unrealized, effects of PTSD. At the end of treatment, each client will be partnered with a first responder mentor to help them transition back into family and career life, for as long as they may need.
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I Am Tough and I Don't Need Help
by Kristi Tausinga
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I just wanted someone to believe me. I wanted someone to care. My  intention was not necessarily to harm myself, I just needed help. However, I didn't know how to ask. I am a cop and cops "don't ask for help". We're tough, not allowed to be weak or show weakness.
I don't know why I took all the pills. I guess I was hoping that my husband would find me passed out on the living room floor. I had been telling him I had an Opiate addiction, but he did not believe me. I guess I did "too good" of a job hiding it. I figured if he found me passed out, he would call an ambulance or rush me to the hospital. THEY would tell me I needed help, which is okay. Then it would take the "weakness" off of my shoulders. I could blame it on the doctors and not have to tell anyone it was ME asking for help. No, not asking, CRYING OUT FOR HELP.
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Faith and Fire
by Jacquetta Gomes
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Faith and Fire is a partnership between the Chief Fire Officers Association (CFOA) in the United Kingdom, Fire and Rescue Services (FRS), and faith communities to develop mutual respect. It also increases the awareness of faiths to FRS staff and volunteers.
Faith and Fire is led by Fire Officer Daryl Oprey, CFOA Lead on Equality and Diversity, and assisted by Jacquetta Gomes, Advisor on Interfaith and Multi-faith to the CFOA Equality and Diversity Group.
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I Knew It Wouldn't Last
by the wife of a fire chief
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I met my husband in 1997 in a bar. That should have been my first clue. I was  out having a couple of drinks with friends. He was out alone. Things started going downhill almost immediately after we were married. When I was pregnant with our daughter, we went to a Christmas party for my employer and my husband got embarrassingly intoxicated. On the way home, I had to pull over to the side of the road so he could vomit. Once home, he spent the night on the bathroom floor to be near the toilet.
A day after our first wedding anniversary, I gave birth to our daughter. By the time she was six months old, my husband was up to a 12-pack of beer a night. I can vividly remember a night when I came home from work and he had eight or nine empty beer cans on the coffee table in front of him with our daughter cradled in his arms. I was livid. I thought the least he could do was put down the beer and spend time with his baby girl...sober.
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Reflections on Times Past with PTSD
by Bubba
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Over the next few days, most, if not all of us, will start reflecting on the last year, which turns into years. For me, this year means seeing a list of failures and loss in some areas, and gains in others.
The negative for the year is, of course, easy to see. First, I didn't get my medical retirement status finalized. I can't get my disability status made permanent because they are busy fighting with Public Employees Retirement System (PERS), my former agency is contesting everything to be just more of themselves. Recently, my service dog had to be put down and the process of finding a new one is less than easy or quick.
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Reliving the Moment
by Robert Cubby
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Trauma has a funny way about it. It sometimes buries itself deep in our subconscious, long forgotten. Then someone does something or says something, and the whole scene unfolds once again, intruding into your peace, causing long forgotten emotions to surface.
As I watched and listened to the Darren Wilson investigation, I felt sorry for him and prayed for a just finding by the grand jury. I felt sorry, empathized and sympathized but somehow something was missing in my reaction. It was bothersome how distant I felt from the incident, and how little what he had to do struck any kind of emotion in me. Somehow, I felt like I was "purposely" distancing myself and that's not like me
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Deadly Epidemic
by Joye Atkinson
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There seems to be an epidemic spreading more and more each day 
Although it's not contagious people are dying anyway
It's not heart disease or cancer, Alzheimer's or even dope
This disease is caused from believing there's no hope
This thing I am referring to causes one to believe
That no one cares about them and it causes them to grieve
When they feel life has no meaning and that nothing can be done
They may take an overdose or go out and get a gun
Then their friends and family deal with grief of their own
And if they don't ask for help they too may soon be gone
Lord, help us to pay attention and always be alert
Fill us with your compassion for those who really hurt.
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