People are usually not thrilled to see a traffic cop in their rearview mirror… until they actually understand what the job really is. Traffic enforcement isn’t just writing tickets. It’s standing inches away from vehicles flying past at highway speed. It’s walking up to a window not knowing if the person behind it is angry, impaired, panicked, armed… or just someone having the worst day of their life. And then there’s the mental side This time of year is supposed to be about celebration: office parties, family gatherings, Christmas cheer. But traffic officers know better than anyone that one bad decision behind the wheel can shatter more than just a festive night. Drinking and driving doesn’t just risk your life… it risks theirs too. They’re the ones standing on the roadside while impaired drivers blow past without realizing the danger. Traffic officers absorb all of this quietly: fatal crashes, impatient drivers screaming in their face, shift work, constant vigilance. But still, they show up. They step out onto icy shoulders in -30° windchill. They protect people who will never know their name. So this Christmas, show some respect. Slow down. Don’t drink and drive. And remember the human standing on the side of the road, trying to get everyone home to the people they love.

If you’ve worn a uniform, you already know this truth: It’s not the medals, the promotions, or the “thank you for your service” moments that keep you going… It’s the feeling that you’re still moving forward becoming stronger, wiser, more human every day. The job conditions us to chase big wins: the rescue, the save, the adrenaline, the “we made a difference today.” But after the calls slow down, after the shift ends, after retirement hits… happiness doesn’t come from the applause. It comes from progress even the smallest kind. Some days that progress is showing up for therapy. Some days it’s just getting out of bed after a sleepless night. Some days it’s sending a message to a buddy and saying, “You good?” So if you feel stuck, numb, or like you’ve lost your purpose… Don’t wait for a dramatic comeback. Take one small step lift a weight, journal, go for coffee, pick up a new skill. Happiness isn’t the destination. It’s the act of becoming again.

Today I want to shine a light on the ones we often forget when we talk about first responder mental health: the emergency room nurses. You want to talk about pressure? These men and women walk into chaos every shift. Not once in a while, every single shift. They’re the ones who see the fear in a patient’s eyes before the doctors arrive. They’re the ones who hold a hand while a family gets the worst news of their lives. They’re the ones who get yelled at, grabbed, spit on, and still manage to stay compassionate. And somehow… they keep showing up. I met two ER nurses today absolute warriors behind the smiles. They treated every patient with respect and made them feel like they mattered. No judgment. Just compassion and professionalism in the middle of madness. But here’s what we don’t see: They carry the codes that don’t go well. The kids they couldn’t save. The trauma that doesn’t stay in the trauma bay, it follows them home. They tuck it into quiet corners of their minds so they can come back tomorrow and do it all over again. We talk a lot about firefighters, cops, paramedics… but let’s not forget the nurses holding the line inside those hospital walls. They are Unbreakable too Not because they don’t crack, but because they keep showing up even when they feel like they might. So if you know a nurse, check in with them. Really check in. And if you’re a nurse reading this, we see you. We appreciate you. You are not alone. To the two incredible nurses in this photo, thank you. For your kindness. For your strength. For being the calm in someone else’s storm. #humansbehindtheuniform #emergency #nurses #sha #pasqua

I got past that stuck point sooner than many & was able to move past it quicker because of my addictions history. Don't get me wrong, there are lingering after effects, there always will be. I sat in AA meeting after AA meeting hearing the same people living in their past and never seeming to move forward. I vowed that I didn't want to get caught in that rut & made a concerted effort to move along. I'm sober more than 30 years now. Fast forward about 22 years and I found myself in the same place but as a broken medic. I saw too many colleagues crash, burn or die and vowed that I wouldn't become another statistic the system left behind. Thankfully I had a great partner who helped point me in the right direction without judgement. First I got help. Professional help. That was the biggest hurdle, let's end the stigma. Then it was a life-style change. I found myself new interests, hobbies & friends who had neither an affiliation with emergency services nor a curiosity/fascination with it. Essentially I found an identity and a greater purpose that wasn't tied to the uniform. It was hard because for so many years I WAS the uniform. Even with the changes I still retired 3 years early on a reduced pension, but it was about survival. The nightmares stopped 2 years later but the ghosts from 35 years will linger for the rest of my life, I understand that and have accepted it. There are still some anxiety, hypervigilance, trust issues and cynicism but I'm conscious of it daily and work against it's influence. Like Richard said, "My story isn’t perfect. It’s messy, painful, and at times, nearly ended. But it’s real — and it’s proof that you can survive." I guess the bottom line for me was learning "serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference ".

Most people will go their entire lives and only face a handful of traumatic events, maybe a serious car accident, maybe a medical emergency in the family, maybe one moment that shakes their world. First responders see that before lunch. I’m not saying that to complain. I’m saying it because the average taxpayer deserves to know the reality behind the uniform. Firefighters, paramedics, police and dispatchers walk into situations every single day that most people would sprint away from. They see the worst moments of someone’s life… again and again and again. And no matter how tough you are, that does something to you. You don’t just “shake it off.” You stack it. Year after year. Call after call. And yet, most first responders will never say a word. Not because they’re heroes but because they don’t want to burden anyone, complain, or sound ungrateful for the job they once loved. But here’s the truth: Mental health in emergency services isn’t a weakness issue. It’s a volume issue. It’s about exposure. It’s about repetition. It’s about carrying stories you can’t unsee. So if you take anything from this, let it be this: Next time you see a first responder understand that behind that uniform is a human being doing their best with the weight they carry and sometimes the strongest thing they ever do is simply show up again tomorrow. This isn’t a complaint. This is awareness. This is respect for the men and women who keep showing up even when the job takes pieces of them. If you’re a first responder and this hits home… Drop a comment. You’re not alone.