in one of these people. Perhaps their story is your story.
If so, my hope is that hearing from these brave and vulnerable souls will create a spark in you and inspire you to take that first step toward wellness and wholeness. Reach out, talk to someone, attend a peer support meeting, or make your first counseling appointment. Learn what helped these people, and maybe try something they tried. But please know that you are not alone. Others have struggled in the same way you are, but they’ve survived and are thriving, and you can too.
We must put an end to silent suffering. We are losing too many first responders to suicide and premature death due to health problems. First responders deserve a long, full, peaceful, happy, healthy life. They deserve to have connected relationships and a culture and community that supports them.
My Initiation
Becoming a widow was my initiation as a warrior. I am fighting for first responders and their families. There is a massive nationwide movement to bring healing to our first responders, and I have joined this cause. I’m standing shoulder-to-shoulder with an army of compassionate, caring people who will stop at nothing to help, save, and rescue the brave and important people who have dedicated their lives to helping, saving, and rescuing others. Each of us contributes something unique to the fight, but all of us are united in the commitment to bring sweeping change to this dire situation.
This is not a moment; it’s a movement. It’s not a wellness fad that will fade away like a trendy diet or the latest health guru. This is a new way of being for first responders and it will prevail and sustain.
My small part in this movement is to offer two powerful personal practices to first responders and their families and loved ones. The practices are meditation and mindfulness. These tools help turn one’s attention inward, to the self. They can help a person manage stress, regulate emotions, and improve overall health.
Beyond teaching meditation and mindfulness, I am encouraging first responders to seek professional help and step onto a healing path that can change the trajectory of their lives and the lives of everyone they love.
There are many, many other people, other warriors, involved in this movement who are offering myriad tools, therapies, retreats, modalities, education, facilities, books, counseling, peer groups, training, and other forms of support. Together, we will make a difference.
If you are a first responder, please join the movement to help and heal, starting with yourself. Up until now, you have been the help. Now, maybe you need a little help. Please don’t allow your stoicism, shame, embarrassment, or pride to keep you from seeking the help and support you need and deserve.
“Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.”
—Plato
Here is the most basic, historical definition of a warrior: a person who fights in a battle or war.
Here’s my definition: a warrior is anyone who stands ready to serve, protect, and defend a person, place, thing, or cause, and will fight and sacrifice for the betterment of others and for the greater good.
My husband David was a warrior. He was a protector, and a guardian of justice. He had this way of making people feel safe. Once, in marriage counseling, our therapist said, “If the ship is going down, stand next to David and you will survive.” That about sums it up. That’s who David was at his core.
David was a good man, and he was a good cop, by all accounts. In the year of his death, he received two prominent awards, the State of Missouri Guardian of Justice Award and an MOCIC (Mid-States Organized Crime Information Center) award. In the 1990s, while working as a federal agent, David headed up a two-year-long investigation which led to the arrest and conviction of a crime ring, including a brutal killer who was featured on the TV show America’s Most Wanted. And he had many other career successes and accolades.
Recently, I was speaking at a law enforcement conference, and I saw a man making a beeline toward me from across the room. As he approached, I thought his eyes looked teary. He stretched out his hand and said, “I worked with your husband many years ago. I hadn’t heard that he had passed, I’m so sorry.”
I thanked him and we chatted a little. His comments about David echoed what many others have said to me over the years. “Your husband was a really good cop,” he said. “If shit was going down, you wanted David there with you.”
I always say David was this great combination of a silly, funny, goofy guy who you probably wouldn’t want to encounter in a dark alley. He was charming and harmless, until he or someone he felt responsible for was threatened, and then watch out. He could switch to warrior mode in a split second.
The problem is, warring takes a toll on the warrior, and our western society is not good about taking care of these brave and noble individuals.
I’ve heard that, in ancient times, indigenous people went to great lengths to care for their warriors. When warriors returned home from battle, they were welcomed, honored, and praised. They were given time to reflect and rest and heal. They were tended to and held in high regard. This makes sense to me, considering they put their lives on the line ensuring that others’ lives were protected.
The Gladiator
I have a vivid memory of watching the movie Gladiator, starring Russell Crowe, with my husband one night. It was a movie David would watch over and over. I now understand why he was drawn to that story. He identified with the main character. Not in a dreamy, wishful way. He literally possessed the traits of the gladiator, but he would never have admitted that, because he was also humble.
The movie is about a principled man and revered Roman general who seeks revenge against a corrupt emperor who ordered the murder of the general’s family, captured and enslaved him, and forced him to fight in the gladiator arena.
During a particularly brutal fight scene, I said something to my husband like, “I hate watching this violent stuff. I hate war. I hate fighting. It’s just not my thing.”
David paused the movie, looked at me and replied, “Well, you better be glad there are people willing to get into the arena and fight.” I said, “I know. You’re right. And I am grateful for that.”
He was absolutely right, and he wasn’t just referring to the movie, or the gladiator arena. My off-the-cuff comment triggered something in him about people who abhor violence and have dreams of a peaceful world. I realize, looking back, that in his role as a law enforcement officer, David did not seek out conflict or violence, it was thrust upon him.
Just a few weeks after David died, I watched Gladiator by myself. I probably cried more watching that movie than I cried at David’s funeral. My husband embodied all the qualities of Maximus Decimus Meridius, Commander of the Armies of the North, General of the Felix Legions, and loyal servant to the true Emperor, Marcus Aurelius.
David was principled, brave, determined, loyal, and protective, especially if he loved you. He understood that doing a job well meant sacrifice. He took pride in everything he did. You could count on him. You felt safe with him.
He identified with that movie because he was a gladiator. He didn’t want to fight, but if you threw him into the arena, he would survive. Maximus quickly became a leader to the other slaves in the arena and used his instincts and ability, not only to save himself, but to keep the other slaves alive as well. That was how David lived his life—with a high degree of honor and sense of responsibility.
A warrior is a gladiator, a fighter, a protector, and a hero. Their innate instinct to survive and save others far surpasses what the rest of us possess.
Keep Fighting
If your life or work involves helping, saving, and rescuing others in any capacity, large or small, you are a warrior. If you are someone who stands ready to serve, protect, and