But it didn’t fix everything. The panic attacks, anxiety, and withdrawal only transferred from SWAT callouts to everyday trauma on duty.
- He started taking sick days.
- He was too anxious to even drive to the PD.
- He refused medication for fear of an allergic reaction after seeing overdoses at work.
I felt completely helpless. My days and nights were spent taking care of our babies while also responding to hours of texts and phone calls, trying to convince him that he was okay. That his heart wasn’t exploding. That he wasn’t dying.
The Unseen Battle
I have watched:
- His friends die from PTSD.
- Others take their own lives.
- First responders lose the battle.
- Him fight to hold on to his last bit of hope.
One severe panic attack at work led to a nervous breakdown. He told them it was from the heat. They put him in an ambulance for heat exhaustion.
The next morning, I had to go to my daughters’ birthday party alone—7 months pregnant—because he couldn’t bear being in a crowd.
Our friends and family rallied around us.
- His uncle flew in to stay with him.
- Officers from other towns brought us food.
- Family sent us gift cards.
- My girlfriends took care of our home.
- His best friend cleaned his truck.
- My mom stayed with him when I had to leave.
- His siblings and cousins checked in constantly.
I have never felt as lonely as I have in the past few years. This has brought our family to its knees—over and over again.
