To Surrender

This is my first blog. My first attempt to tell my story.

As sit in my new home, I find myself peacefully observing the glistening leaves of my “prayer plant.” It was given to me as a gift by the god loving old woman who sold me this RV I call home. It was just recently I noticed that the pink and white spotted leaves sparkle in the early morning sunlight. magic.

I’m calling Valdez, Alaska home for now. I am here in search of peace.

I’ve come a long way to get here, and it all began when I surrendered.

In April of 2020, I was apart of the FEMA (federal emergency management agency) response in NYC for the COVID-19 pandemic. I spent the 2 years prior as an EMT in Buffalo, NY. Being home in Buffalo and working in EMS during the Pandemic was the first time I had experienced anxiety. I distinctly recall driving to work with tightness in my chest, unable to draw a deep breath. Was this panic?

I have always been calm and confident in face of danger, however this was different. In the early stages of the pandemic emergency responders were not equip with proper information, nor equipment to keep ourselves safe. I did not fear contracting COVID and suffering the way my patients did. I feared spreading it to anyone, especially my loved ones, and being the reason they strained to hold on within an inch of their life.

Alas, as the anxiety was taking hold of my peace, an unexpected opportunity presented. To my relief and my loved ones dismay, I accepted an opportunity to be deployed to NYC.

I didn’t know it at the time, but this was the catalyst to my surrender.

(This post is not about my personal accounts a first responder during the pandemic. Please drop a comment if you would be interested in hearing more of that perspective.)

After my six week of service in NYC, I came home and was granted some R&R. Naturally, I planned a backpacking trip. I thought the wilderness could help release the images of fear, suffering, and death seared into my mind. It did not.

When I returned to work in Buffalo, I was angry. Unjustly cross at the people suffering. I remember thinking to myself “I wish this person would just die.” How awful.

I knew the patients were not to blame. They came from broken homes, relentless addiction, painstaking poverty and abuse. So much abuse. They were stuck in a system that failed them. I had this sinking feeling that I was not saving anyone. I was putting a band-aid on a spurting arterial bleed. I saw from the inside how fractured our healthcare system and their suffering was a result of that. I didn’t know what to do.

Holistically, I was a mess. My mind wanted to make sense of suffering and how I could solve it. My body determined to remain unaffected; a leader, a mentor, a machine. My heart learned how to reserve its compassion to only be used in the most necessary moments; the scared mother, the confused grandpa, the raped teenager. My spirit was crying out in agony, and like the very people I served, I was trapped by a broken system.

Despite my efforts to remain the compassionate provider my community needed, darkness was creeping in and something had to be done before it consumed me.

So, I surrendered.