As a kid growing up in Brooklyn, the youngest of five siblings, I was never taught about the spectrum of emotions that live within me. Although, if I was upset and cried, I was often called a crybaby, and left feeling that I was weak or in some ways less capable and competent as those other boys that seemed to confront childhood challenges with ease. Sometimes I felt intimidated from the potential torment of a classmate, from a bigger kid while playing in the schoolyard, or from an older sibling. Being the youngest of five kids, I learned to choke back my tears, hide my vulnerabilities and develop a coat of armor and wear a mask of toughness & confidence. As we all know, armor and masks simply cover up and protect the true soft white underbelly of the more tender truth of emotions. This was my first introduction to learning about the difference between what is truly felt, and what we feel comfortable presenting to other people and the world around us.
In some ways our tough exterior can be a protective layer that can keep those that wish to hurt us from reaching a tender and sensitive place. Yet the cost of hyper vigilance and the energy that goes into carrying this armor can be exhausting. As I navigated through adolescence and young adulthood, I became more skillful in interacting in social dynamics. I was quiet, quick witted, and scrappy. I went from learning how to be ready to react to a potential threat by being ready to put my hands up to protect myself from an onslaught of headlocks, hair pulling and belly punches, to a more mature reaction of making direct eye contact, standing my ground, and using snappy comebacks and passsive agressive sarcasm as a defense mechanism to protect myself from appearing as weak. And it worked!
I was finally able to “handle myself”! Yes there were times like when I got robbed of my Subway Pass and punched in the face while commuting adults stood there and did nothing (except for an old lady who told the boys to leave me be). Or the fistfights as my friends and I explored different neighborhoods of the five boroughs. Or the time my face was slashed from forehead to neck outside a New York City Saloon while partying with guys from my college rugby team. This was all just training for the adult world and helped me to toughen up and be prepared to be a “real man”.
When I started training to become a New York City Firefighter I had real physical protective gear, tools, trucks and other Firefighters to support me, as well as my own wits and smarts to protect me from harm. I also still had my personal armor and mask to protect anyone from seeing the possibility that I might be unsure, insecure, or lack confidence to make the right decisions, being fearful to make a dire mistake that could get myself or one of my brother firefighters hurt or killed. I understood this fear to be a natural part of firefighting, and I was relieved when I went to my first real fire, and walked away with the satisfaction and confidence that although I was nervous, I faced my fear, I confronted the red devil of smoke and flames at a a late night restaurant fire in Brooklyn, did my job well, and knew in my heart that I had what it takes to feel fear, and to push forward anyway, and to finish the job, put the fire out, and to complete the mission by making sure we all got out safely.
Although I was taught, trained, and given the tools necessary to show up and help people that were facing their worst nightmare, I had no idea that the compound, and damaging effect that chronic stress could have on our mind, our body, and how it could spill over the rest of our lives. After a few years as a junior fire fighter, and experiencing my fair share of housefires, explosions, arson, tragic and horrific car, accident, and medical emergencies, I realized I was acquiring many skills to become a proficient first responder. Although I was never trained to understand the complex emotional response that my mind and body was experiencing from reacting to these traumatic experiences over the course of years. Since I lacked the language, understanding, and self-awareness to identify the grief, sadness, and fear I was constantly being exposed to, I did what many men do, I ignored it, stuffed it down, repressed it, suppressed it, and poured some booze on it. That worked, until it didn’t. When the damaging effects of chronic alcohol use start to affect our mind and body, we start to realize that we are just numbing our pain, instead of processing it in healthy way.
I quit drinking alcohol almost a decade ago. The highly addictive neurotoxin gave me a temporary break from the chronic physical and emotional challenges in my life, but left me dehydrated, bloated, and left my nervous system fried, and on edge, diminishing my ability to handle the stress and challenges in my personal and professional world. So I quit. Which is a story for another post.
Without alcohol to numb and distract me from my chronic issues, I was confronted with the compound effects of stress injuries, physical and mental fatigue, and feeling burned out from constantly showing up to help others in need, while abandoning myself, and caring for the parts of me that needed to be healed from the horrors of being a first responder in the big city. When the dark side of gallows humor, no longer covers up the fear and horror of some of our experiences, we are forced to look in the mirror. if we are brave enough to look deeply into ourselves, not only will feel pain, but we might also feel confusion, as we are allowing ourselves to feel many things that we may have repressed from childhood.
Now as a full grown adult, retired from Fire Service, I am learning to understand myself and the human condition more deeply. I have been able to identify the vast spectrum of emotions that all human beings contain. I’ve learned to practice empathy, sympathy, understanding, compassion, and forgiveness for myself and others. I’ve learned that sadness, grief and fear, often manifest themselves as anger, as it feels much safer to express anger, then it does to be seen, or perceived, as weak or fragile in the world that requires strength and toughness. As I learn to remove my armor, and take off my mask, I occasionally allow myself to express the truth of feeling loss, grief, sadness, and fear. I recognize that allowing myself to do so. Let me process and release emotions that otherwise will turn into other unhealthy habits, and they will typically show up in our lives in unhealthy and destructive ways.
I learn to reparent my inner child, and make space for the emotions that I was never allowed to express as a young person, I realize it is my responsibility to takeoff the protective armor, and confront my demons, with confidence in my ability to be true to myself, and to allow myself to be authentically and fully human. I have been taught and guided by others, to recognize that asking for help and support, and daring to be brave and vulnerable enough to express our truth is an active strength and courage. I still have a long way to go, but I’m on the healing journey, and understanding that honoring the truth of my emotions is a gift I can give to myself, that allows me to drop the heaviness of the armor we carry. I am learning that by letting go of the feelings, and heaviness, that no longer belongs to me, and by giving space, and to the truth of my inner world, and sharing it with others, that I give permission to other men, to take off their protective layers, to heal from years of carrying unnecessary burdens, and to let go of that which no longer belongs to them.
When we call 911 in our time of need, how do we want our first responders showing up? Overwhelmed? Overburdened? Overtaxed? Emotionally reactive? Easily triggered?
Or do we want the professionals that serve our communities to show up grounded, confident, healthy and balanced? What do they deserve after sacrificing blood, sweat, tears, life & limb? How do we want them to show up when they arrive home to their families as fathers, coaches and neighbors? I expect we want them to experience the same thing as we all want. We should want then to know that it’s OK to want to feel seen, heard, understood, appreciated, and cared for. We need to normalize the full spectrum of emotions that is required to be a healthy well adjusted human being. And to know that those that choose to serve, and show up to help us in our time of need, deserve us as citizens to show up for them by offering support and understanding, and showing our appreciation by simply acknowledging their pain, and embracing their right to be fully human.