By Lee Forshner
The constant chatter, the nonstop need for movement—to slow down is impossible because then I fail. If I stop, I’m not successful and something is wrong. I’ll take on more, play more funerals. What’s the next step? Why is this happening again? What’s the next promotion? I can handle everything. Stop focusing on loss and death, learn more music. How is this happening again? I can’t say no, another failed relationship. Why are my kids so angry? Why don’t they want to see me? Someday I’ll find happiness. It has to exist. When do I get a break? Let me post a picture to show how amazing my life is. I must fit in. I’ll be fine. Will I ever be able to live without fear of loss? How are all these other people enjoying so much while I sit here wishing I could wake up dead?!
A day in my mind: constant avoidance of self while piling on every possible responsibility and title to “feel” and “look” successful. I measured my success by ego feeding and not life feeding.
In the fire service, we are continuously reminded of proficiency and speed to mitigate as quickly as possible. We are provided SOGs/SOPs, contracts, and protocols to have direct guidance to resolve whatever is thrown at us. While on scene, we have immediate access to all resources and a contingent of others with experience in these responses.
My diagnosis was allowed to define and shame me. Fear became reality, and the injury defined me. I shut down and refused to do any of these practices. My phone weighed 500 pounds, and all I could do was be selfish with every conversation, attempting to rationalize my injury and its effects. I couldn’t hear anything outside the negativity and depression. On the outside, I was standing in front of thousands, sharing music, while internally falling apart, feeling alone and fully disconnected from the reality of losing my career. No preparation, just “You’re not returning.”
Unfortunately, in many cases, this results in an inability to involve ourselves proficiently with others inside and outside the first responder community. The expectation in life that mitigation of everything is possible within a few hours at max is impossible and screams compartmentalization of emotion and vulnerability. Simple tasks with others become uncomfortable with nonstop directing or correcting. Small details with zero effect on anything or a need become a full-blown argument because there was deviation from your expectation that was never shown or explained.
To bring this trust comes with it a powerful role. Brené Brown describes trust perfectly, relating the idea to marbles. Everyone carries marbles of their own in a jar. As we interact, we are placing our own marbles into the jars of others as they are doing the same. Sometimes our marbles are being taken away as we continue to feed that jar and there is no reciprocation. The idea works both ways internally and externally (are you feeding your own jar?). The pneumonic she uses is “BRAVING”: Boundaries, Reliability, Accountability, the Vault, Integrity, Non-judgment, and Generosity. Although not easy to practice, this may help rebuild structure to the holes we patch with a false facade of perfect.
Recently I listened to a podcast and the topic of transparency came up. The question was posed: “At what point did we go from the sexy one in the crowd to not being seen at all?” The relationship to getting older was made, suggesting that as we age, we become a part of the background from where we used to shine. The idea of being transparent to reduce transparency immediately comes to mind.
Reflection and communication internally as well as externally begin to unlock vulnerability and create opportunity for story. Although the daily intentful practice may be challenging, the powerful results through meaningful interaction incorporate rewarding positives. Providing space to listen to your body and surroundings and creating honest, open involvement increase understanding to deal with true emotion.
After years of running and refusing to accept my injury, I was given a gift. This, in one word, is INTENT! Immediately it made me walk through my actions and words daily. Intent meant my everything had to have full effort and attention. While this conversation is happening, I am being faced with large challenges in all facets of my world.
As a new relationship began to flourish and I applied much of these processes, I was also in a downward spiral. I lost my ability to interact with my two sons. I had so much good on one side and interacting with silence on the other. Intent, trust, transparency, communication, and full-on vulnerability brought me in six months through the biggest storm to the most incredibly beautiful destination, full of hope and acceptance with daily intentful involvement.
These lessons began to stand out while I was in Breckinridge, seated at a booth/table combo in the Blue Ridge Bistro. The vibe was calm yet energetic. As we sat, a large party was being seated to our left and we shifted our table to the right slightly. After a few minutes, a couple sat at the table to which we moved closer. They ordered a bottle of wine and began conversation. The accent stuck out to both of us, and we couldn’t figure it out. I became curious, so I asked where they were from. She replied, “Where do you think?” It opened the door to a 15-minute conversation that provided incredible feedback on a day that began terribly.
The conversation in the morning was with a doctor I was working with to see and speak to my kids. The statement made was one I have heard yet ignored at the same time. “LISTEN!” Listen to them in their words; pay attention to the small clues you’re missing. I needed to have that intent to allow reflective interaction while listening and not jumping to be in charge or show my side.
The gentleman sat for the first few minutes quietly, seemingly assessing the conversation, allowing his wife to speak, full attention to all detail—a fast reminder of the doctor conversation. The couple was from South Africa. Their story of life from travel to immigration to success was awe-inspiring in every way. They were fully transparent, communicative, interactive with emotion, and reflecting on the good and bad equally while listening. The creation of a positive space to learn about others also stood out tremendously. People’s story may provide signposts for direction for you as well as others.
Sit at the table, grab a cup of coffee, ask questions. Create a culture of trust beyond “bro” and provide comfort to be openly emotional, vulnerable, and present. If we can train and live together, we can talk, share, laugh, cry, love, and grow emotionally together.
During Lee’s almost 17 years in the fire service, he held positions as a recruit academy instructor, paramedic instructor, lieutenant, staff captain in the training and safety division, and public information officer. As a member of a training cadre, he had opportunities to assist members of the fire service in learning didactic and hands-on applications in environments such as FDIC International, Firemanship, and Treasure Coast HOT. In 2007 he began to learn how to play bagpipes, and within a year was a member of Palm Beach County (FL) Fire Rescue Pipes and Drums, interacting with funerals, parades, and celebrations across the globe. Since retiring from the fire service due to PTSD, Lee spent seven years as a touring member of Dropkick Murphys. This allowed him to share his story and interact with others providing support and resources in hopes to increase awareness and normalcy to the mental health crisis surrounding our community.
You can contact Lee at: resq33piper@gmail.com
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