Editor’s Note: Following yet another suicide in our profession, Detective Jason Simoneau asked us to share the last chapter in his excellent book, The Job: Sins of the Father. It’s not about selling books to Jason. In fact, he wouldn’t give us the book link until we asked. To Jason and to us here at Law Officer, it’s about saving lives. May we learn from the tragedies of our past to be better in the future.
This message is for all my brothers and sisters in LE. But not simply for them. It’s for anyone who has suffered from PTSD or Post-Concussion Syndrome or any type of brain related injury. The message is:
DON’T DO IT!!!
There. That’s it. Thanks for spending your hard-earned cash on my book.
But seriously….Don’t do it. Life is precious. Every life has meaning, even if you can’t see or feel that meaning in your very own life. I’m obviously not a doctor, but I can speak from experience and what helped for me.
Listening to all the experts and reading all the literature on the matter, I kind of took a little info from each in my approach. Most believe PTSD applies simply to military action. Far from it. It often occurs in law enforcement and yes, even those nitwit firefighters (BOOM!!!). It also can happen to any person in any profession or walk of life. A woman being sexually assaulted will often get PTSD based on a location and be fearful of parking lots or stairwells. It happens to anyone in a serious situation in which death for that person is a great possibility.
Now, some would say that they’ve been in that situation numerous times and have never felt the after effects. Fine. You’re a tough guy. A major badass. Go fuck yourself. What is that A-type personality going to do for you in the afterlife? I myself have been involved in several life threatening situations. As a Major Crimes detective, I have seen the most awful part of what the human soul is capable of. Never was I affected to the point where I couldn’t leave my home simply to go food shopping. I was never mentally tortured to the point that I stayed in bed for days at a time.
That all changed after I had my son. I still did my job. I was still brave as hell. But I decided to use my brain just a little bit more. I made it a point to look for escape routes as I approached danger. Gone were the rookie days of being gung-ho. But as we all know in law enforcement, trouble will eventually find you. Somehow, someway.
My issues occurred after my son was born. After I truly gave a fuck about living. Immediately following a brutal beating that left me a total mess, consciously I felt fine. There were several aggressors and I still made it out alive with what I thought was a minor bang to the head. That had to count for something. I truly believed in the fact that getting back up after being knocked down was the true meaning of toughness. Not how hard you can hit. In that moment, I wasn’t aware of what this beatdown was actually doing to me internally. This concussion shit which is now the hottest topic in all contact sports is real. What I didn’t fully realize because it was deep in my subconscious, was that I knew that I almost died. And leaving my son truly terrified me. Not that he couldn’t make it without me. But because I couldn’t make it without him. Yes, even in heaven. I am a God fearing man. I do believe in the afterlife and the beauty that awaits. But I don’t think I could last a day in heaven, with all of its glory, without my son. I truly feel that way. I would go through hell with him for an eternity rather than spend one day in heaven without him.
That fear of leaving my son caused my PTSD and took my brain on a rollercoaster ride that I may never fully recover from. So what did I do? What should you do? Again, I’m not a doctor. No formal education after high school in fact. I’m just a guy and can only speak to you from my experiences. And my message again is: don’t do it. First and foremost, find medical help. It’s out there now. Years ago it was seen as a sign of weakness for LEO’s to seek severe psychiatric help. It’s not like that anymore. It’s common knowledge that more LEO’s die from suicide each year than are murdered by a felon in the line of duty. And don’t do it for the sake of the job. Don’t do it to avoid being a liability. Fuck the job. Especially in this day and age. Your brass would sell you out in a minute. This is not about saving your thankless job. Do it for you. For your family. For your friends. For the people you serve. And when you’re in that situation, you truly feel that you have no friends and no support.
So pick something. Anything. There are a million reasons to live and get better. Whether it’s seeing Tom Brady win another Super Bowl. Or staying alive long enough to see the next Star Wars release. Pick some inspiration. There has to be something you love. You might think I’m making an attempt at humor, I’m not. When I was in my deepest depression, the context of my life was all fucked up. I couldn’t see my support system. I was homeless for a time and living in a friend’s borrowed van. Not down by the river like Matt Foley either. And not because my family didn’t want to help, I didn’t want their help.
But there were other things, maybe not attached to me deeply, that always brought me pleasure even in my darkest moments. So yes, football, movies, great cigars, motorcycles etc… All things that made me smile, I focused on. Waiting for the next great cigar release two months from now. BOOM…two more months alive. Star Wars next Christmas. Gotta live long enough to see it right? As stupid as this sounds, this is what I did. I searched and searched for what may seem to you the reader as the stupidest things to hold on to. But what you and I draw as inspiration and reasons for living are totally different things.
It’s hard to search for truly deep reasons to believe in so choose the little ones. The ones that aren’t so obvious. It could be anything to anyone. Why not choose my son? Because that was too simple a choice, I think. When you feel as fucked up and as worthless as I did, I truly felt at times that my son was better off with me gone. It was too close to my heart. I found myself thinking about his needs and what’s best for him and I couldn’t put it all into context. Naturally he’s the reason I did it. But if I needed an outside push, what’s better than Brady and Belichik?
Song too. This is the corniest of reasons but you’ve always heard about the power of music. Like poetry, songs can take you to a different place. Millions of songs are packed with great meaning. Like every fucking country song ever! Pick one or two or several. My personal favorite was ‘Original of the Species’ by U2. I once heard that the song was written by the band for their children. Whether it was or wasn’t didn’t matter. I was convinced it was made for my son. I’d listen to that song on a loop nonstop when I was in my car with pictures of my son all over the dash. If that’s what is needed, how stupid can that be?
But besides your reasons for inspiration, seek medical help. And keep seeking it until you find help that you can realize immediately. And don’t turn to booze. Whatever you do, don’t self-medicate with alcohol. You don’t feel it while in the middle of a drunken stupor, but it’s making matters worse. We’ve all heard that a million times and for some stupid reason we still do it. So I can’t waste much time on the booze subject. I can only be one more of the gazillion voices that says don’t drink.
I saw several doctors that were hacks. They went through their motions and gave me the same protocol procedures as everyone that visited their practice. They were like robots. Pump you with meds and “I’ll see you in two months”. TWO FUCKING MONTHS!!! I just told you that I was done with life so you simply increase my meds and send me on my own for two months? Then I found the right doctor. He set me straight with one visit. What did he do? He took out a model of the human brain. He showed me the hippocampus, the prefrontal cortex, and the amygdala. No, I didn’t make those names up. He explained how they work and how they were being affected due to my issues. He explained how one messed with my fight or flight response. How one made me react when in large crowds. How after going to just about every New England Patriots game for 17 years, I could no longer go. Something about being in large crowds with people that had been drinking heavily caused me to panic uncontrollably. Why? Because I was attacked by a large drunken group.
What was most important, was that he explained to me that I was absolutely NORMAL. Completely normal. Somehow knowing that this is exactly the way I was supposed to feel under the circumstances made me realize that I was not a goner. The endless nasty thoughts that entered my mind as I lay in bed at night were not a sign that I was going fucking batshit nuts, it was simply how I was supposed to think. He explained that as the weeks and months went on, my thoughts would change to this or that. And they did, exactly as he said they would. I was normal. For me, the hardest part of my ordeal psychologically was truly believing that I was crazy and a danger to others. Sitting there thinking nonstop that you are crazy will have you convinced that you are. Once convinced that I was thinking normally, everything changed. I could anticipate my thoughts and my mood. I knew when I would make awful company and turned down invitations to events. I knew when it was time to take in a good comedy.
The hardest part was convincing myself not to drink. No foreign substance except for prescribed medication can help. And even when that doesn’t work, reach back on your inspirations. Those things that bring you good thoughts. Get out of the house. Take up golf. Treat yourself to an expensive cigar. Did I mention Tom Brady? If you have children, spend every free minute you have with them. But spend that time with them out of the house. I felt the strongest demons were at home. While there, I had nothing to do but think. And believe me, while suffering PTSD or concussion issues, you cannot control your thoughts. They will automatically go to shit. So take day trips with them. The beach maybe. Fenway Paahhhhk!! Movies or picnics. Watch them run and play. Try to get into their minds and live there for a while. Try to see what they see and think the way they do.
I am not an expert in this. But my brothers and sisters in blue know the one major rule to the job: everyone goes home. That is what we were told day one. But that is not enough for me. What happens when our brothers and sisters are at home? We need to make sure they also make it back to that next shift. And to make sure that they eventually retire after a long and fulfilling career. It is true that this is the worst and best profession that ever existed. Safety, both physical and mental for our members is the key. We owe it to each other. We owe it to our families. We owe it to the people we serve. To be of sound mind at all times. Even though we are human, we can’t afford to be. Always remember, you will fall. Get your ass back up and continue, both on and off The Job. That is the true meaning of toughness, not a meaningless bench press.
Be safe out there.
Jason Simoneau is a 19 year police veteran currently assigned as a major crimes detective. He resides in Rhode Island with his wife and son. He ias the authir of: The Job: Sins of the Father.
