Posted on by Julie Deziel

In The Dark

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder or best known as simply PTSD is a mental health malady that is caused by extremely stressful or terrifying events. This condition is a very significant concern for those who work the trenches of 911 dispatching. It is very common for dispatchers to experience a secondary trauma from their exposure to the most distressing emergency calls. I have PTSD.

I dedicated nearly four decades of my life to serving the public during their most critical moments, including EMS and 911 dispatching. I spent eleven years in an ambulance, but then I experienced my own life-altering trauma event when I was involved in a horrific car accident. This accident left me unable to lift, walk on uneven surfaces, or even get down to the level of my patients. While working in EMS, I was also teaching EMS courses in Northwest Minnesota and Northeast North Dakota. Consequently, when the accident occurred, I had to resign from my position at the college where I taught. I found myself questioning my next move, wondering what lay ahead. Then, I discovered a position with the Polk County Sheriff’s Office that seemed to align with my knowledge and ability to handle emergency situations. I held a 911 telecommunication position for nearly twenty-eight years. Both of these pivotal positions had a profound impact on my life.

As a younger woman in positions of responsibility and raising my family, I failed to recognize the so-called PTSD that I later learned about. It wasn’t until later in life that I developed emotional numbness. To suppress the constant intrusive thoughts, I found ways to occupy my mind through alcohol, sex, and anything else that could distract me. Hypervigilance consumed me, and the constant worry of the next call or the events I knew would strike a loved one caused immense anxiety. The most distressing aspect was the intrusive thoughts that couldn’t be silenced. I relived countless calls I made on the ambulance, and even worse, the calls from individuals experiencing traumatic events themselves. The callers and patients became intertwined in my mind, taking over completely. It wasn’t just a few calls I could replay; unfortunately, there were many that lingered in my thoughts. I suppose this is the cumulative trauma that people talk about.

While the trauma I was dealing with early on was difficult that ugliness of the demon named “Cumulative Trauma” unexpectedly appeared when I was not looking. It didn’t ask permission to enter my home. It lacked patience to wait for my permission; instead, it forcefully pushed the door open and walked in, disregarding my reaction. It became an integral part of me, akin to a family member, accompanying every aspect of my life. Now, I realize that it was a gradual process that hollowed me out, leading to periods of extreme distress. The person who loved wearing masks wore them daily to conceal their true self. They hid behind a fake smile, concealing the fear that consumed them daily. This way, no one would know that a stranger had taken control of their movements and interactions with colleagues, friends, and family.  I lived in a dark empty, lonely hole where there was no ladder for me to climb out. I lived in the dark, alone with this pain, this horror, until I could not wait for another tragedy that would “hopefully” replace one of the horrors that I lived with, which unfortunately did not happen. It just jumped into the pile I held and made a place.

I will never hide the fact I am in therapy. Who would not want to find the way out of the dark, a way to live a life that feels relaxed, fun and not waiting for a tragedy to happen? I needed to find that. This road to learning to live with PTSD is difficult. It does not just happen overnight. The sessions are numerous and oh so very hard to sit through. When you sit with intrusive thoughs, hypervigilence, emotional numbing, grief nearly every week, well it becomes almost too much to bear. Strength is vital. But that is one thing that I found in my years of emergency services is that strength is most important as you have to be strong to answer the woman whose boyfriend just committed suicide while you answered the call in time to hear the shots, or a woman taking me on “the walk” she could not do alone to find her spouse who had made the decision to end his life. You have to have strength to help those whose loved ones are down and you have to give instructions for CPR while you cry silent tears right alongside of them. I will continue to live with my many visits with my therapist as I learn to retrain my brain and not allow the horrors to run who I am. One day I will see beyond that dark and see the brilliance of light.

“In the depths, shadows creep, like whispers in the night,

The past emerges slowly, obscured from the light.

Each though a heavy anchor, chained deep in the oul,

Yet hope still flickers softly, as dreams begin to roll.”

~ Unknown

Posted on by Julie Deziel

Hidden

Shinedown “Through The Ghost” posted at the end of the blog. Feel free to play it will reading. Very thought provoking song. I do not own the rights to the music.

Who as a child did not play the game of hide and seek. Oh the excitement as you waited as they counted to ten or twenty and heard the words; ready or not here I come.” Holding your breathe so they did not hear you as they looked behind the couch and you may have even shut your eyes believing that by doing so you became invisible and there was absolutely no way they could ever find you.

Through the years I cannot deny I have simply wanted to shut my eyes and pretend I am invisible, that I do not exist, that I am a ghost that not a single soul can see me. I have tried to hide myself away from all that I encounter just so they will not know me…as I know me.

I boast oftentimes that I am the “queen of the mask” and I have drawers full of different ones. I can pull one out at the drop of a hat, for any situation. I do this so that I can hide myself away. I can find a way to cope with all that I hear through the 911s I hear. I can cover myself with the dust of an old mask of anxiety as I wait for the next tragedy. The tragedy of it all is that I no longer see myself. It seems the color of who am is blank. The senselessness and hopelessness has overtaken the color of my soul.

I am pained that through all the aid given, all the proper authority that has been sent, all the abuse taken by the upset and angry individuals, and all the tears cried with the hurt and desperate that the world with never know me as I once knew me…for I live within a shell of a ghost. It is easier to hide myself away. I have found that shadows allow me to live and function forward. The world will not know me as I had once known me. Time has taken its toll. I will remain behind the shadows as I take my place behind the mic where the only part of me exposed is my voice. My voice is my mask and the callers becomes a part of my army of ghosts that I will live through tomorrow. Excuse me. The line is ringing once again that I cannot hide from. “911, where is your emergency?”

Posted on by Julie Deziel

The Silence is Deafening

There is no denying that a train makes a statement. With its large lumbering engines blowing their horns at every intersection to the rumbling of the ground as they pass by at 60 miles per hour as we sit on the roadway and wait for each of the train cars to make it through and we can continue on with our day. For many it is an opportunity to check their social media pages or make a phone call or another to touch up their makeup or just to simply get lost in thought. Even though it is so loud and annoying to me personally…that silence is deafening.

I have written before about my son-in-law who we lost six months ago to an undetected heart condition. We are still reeling over that tragedy. Having worked in the EMS world I know that tragedy happens and it is definitely not choosy. My youngest son and I experienced a terrible car accident years ago and I remember the look of my children and family when I was able to see them and the fear in their eyes. I do not wish that on anyone. As I have walked with an officer to deliver the news to a young mother her husband will not return home, I wish none of our officers ever had to knock on that door and see the absolute horror in a parent’s face as they know what is coming.

As I put another year as a 911 dispatcher behind me…23 years actually, a scenario that just seemed unimaginable recently occurred at the end of a long shift. I experienced a 911 call that was eerily similar to my son-in- law’s situation. There is no training for this type of situation. During the most devastating moment of the caller’s life all I could do was think of my daughter having to make that exact same call. As I walked through the information I needed I wanted to assure them they were not alone just as I prayed my daughter did not feel. As they waited for help to come and the caller and I worked together I am most certain was a lifetime for an “actual person” to get there. Even though I was “with them”, I can only think they felt a crippling silence from their most loved. When ambulance and law enforcement arrived I was able to disconnect and even though there were two other dispatchers in the room all I heard was a deafening silence.

As the words from Disturbed’s “Prayer” sing out, “Another dream that will never come true just to compliment your sorrow. Another life that I’ve taken from you, a gift to add on to your pain and suffering. Another truth you can never believe has crippled you completely. All the cries you’re beginning to hear trapped in your mind, and the sound is deafening.” This is the life of a 911 dispatcher. You carry the sounds, the sorrow, the horror and they find you in the silence and it can most deafening in those moments. I do not wish that on another soul. I think about the dispatcher that took my daughter’s call often. I am so sad she had to comfort my daughter on the worst day of her life at the moment I would have given anything to have stood in for her.

I will continue to watch the trains go by and hope for a glimpse of a baseball cap and sunglasses and a smiling Geoff riding along with his buddies and silently remember all those lives I have been a part of through a loud siren ringing telephone when it pierced the silence of the dispatch center.

Posted on by Julie Deziel

I Have Mail

I love the holiday season. I can spend all day sitting admiring my Christmas tree all decorated and soaking in the smell of Christmas wafting from the oven. One of my favorites of the season though is checking the mailbox and finding out that I have mail and it includes those special envelopes from friends and family wishing our household a “Merry Christmas”..

I work in an environment that does not bring much good news. Those that reach out on 911 do not do so to let us know they have a new grandchild or they won at bingo or they are getting company over the holiday season. They unfortunately call on their worst day no matter what time of year.

This year has seemed to be a different year in the center. Communities being in lock down brought struggles that families were not familiar with which brought out more violence, more juvenile issues and substance abuse. As the crisis has continued to drag on and continued lock downs, be it schools or businesses, it has has wreaked havoc mentally and financially on many. The tentacles reach throughout on the crisis lines, mental health providers, emergency rooms, and our 911 lines.

It seems as if death has enveloped me lately. Recently I was involved in 3 CPR in progress calls within a 24 hour period. Over this past weekend there were 2 unattended deaths in 12 hours. There are many ambulance call for services and later an obituary is viewed in the local newspapers. It may or may not be related to the medical crisis sweeping across the United States. It could be due to an internal struggle they have or an undiagnosed medical issue or simply old age took over their tired body. I turn on the National news and there is the never ending broadcast of doom and gloom and the out of sight crescendo of death due to CoVid-19 and no matter where a person goes to on social media you cannot simply will not escape it. It is suffocating. It is almost as if I can actually feel the death as a formidable item. It is exhausting and overwhelming most days.

Tomorrow though I will walk through the locked doors of the 911 doors and prepare to take the calls of another individual who is having their worst day; short of breath, high fever, or a young wife finding their husband laying lifeless on the floor. I will do my job. I will check my mailbox on my way out of the driveway in hopes that it will present me with a little joy; an envelope filled with a peaceful scene or a goofy Christmas scene but both sending love with the pictures of the family and signatures of season greetings. I will FEEL alive and hopeful…for now.

I pray you are enveloped in much love and peace this holiday season.

Posted on by Julie Deziel · 1 Comment

Wallflower

This picture was taken this fall on a peaceful walk around our yard and I took some time on the dock and this is what I was privy to see. The wind was not blowing and there were a few ducks making ripples nearby and a few seagulls finding summer. I did not need to be have someone with me to show me through the beauty or experience it with me. I did not have to share the beauty with another soul. It was a moment of silence in which I was simply regenerating my soul.

I grew up being “that” girl that was laughed at because she turned beet red when she was asked a question in school or had to give a presentation in front of a group. It would send me into an anxiety-ridden panic for days if I knew it was coming up. If I could silently fade into the walls i would have done it in a heartbeat. The thought of being a wallflower was welcomed by my psyche.

Push through to being a mother and grandmother and being in a job as a 911 dispatcher; needing a type A personality no doubt. The shyness within me is hidden behind a few masks or two. I have no choice but to talk at work. Often times I talk nearly 10 hours straight; 10 HOURS straight. Many times it is to people I do not even know but need my help. It is not normal talking. It is stressful talking. Then comes those few moments of silence and someone wants to speak. Many can understand. But the shy, quiet, introvert wants to live inside herself for awhile…to try to remain alive. Silence my ears.

Recently I was told that I appear to come off cold or chilly at times. I need to work on making eye contact with another. This person does not understand silence. They do not understand another’s need for live-sustaining quiet. At the drop of a hat we go from 0-100mph and the peace prepares the mind and soul for what is to come. When did it become a bad thing to just need a little down time with thoughts and quiet without it being that something is wrong? I am 56 years of age and now have to change who I am or do I? Is it so bad to be me in the end?

“Solitude is for me a fount of healing which makes my life worth living. Talking is often a torment for me, and I need many days of silence to recover from the futility of words.”

~Carl Jung

Posted on by Julie Deziel

Rock On

As a 911 dispatcher we are perceived to be strong type-A personality types. We answer that phone by the second ring and make extremely fast decisions in some of the most tragic moments of other’s lives. We attempt to deal with these calls so they do not follow us home. We appear to be strong, a rock; handling it all with ease; nothing can shake us.

My surroundings were thrown into chaos and all the dust around me was stirred up. At times I felt I could not see through the darkness. My world was rocked. It was shook to its core in the last month in that same environment that I feel my strongest while taking calls on another’s worst day. The walls of my life that project a strong, capable woman were shaken so hard that it left a shell of woman that I do not even know. I feel I am lost to who I am and it is scary. I believe I gave power to another person who i have no relationship with seems impossible. To allow another to intimidate and defeat me is almost humiliating.

I am rocked each time they walk into the room…rock me until my heart is beating close to 120 bpm. Rock me until my breathing is deep and fast, until I am sweaty, until the room seems to spin. The core of who I am has forever been changed.

I will bounce back but I will at times relive what was done to me. I will feel those icky feelings of post-traumatic stress. I will have to face the monster who made me feel unsafe regularly. But…I will rock on. I will put on my mask and simply pretend that I am okay because that is what those of us who are strong rocks in our line of work do. It is expected…for a rock is strong. It does not break.

Rock on my friend, rock on.

Posted on by Julie Deziel

A Hard Goodbye

“911, where is your emergency?……

The sun sets. All the good, all the bad, all the uncertainty and all the worrying that came with the day is complete. As my head lays down on the pillow I can say a soft goodbye to this day. After a few hours of sleep the sun will rise once again and a new day will dawn.

Over the past 2 shifts as a 911 dispatcher I was privy to two calls of children each having found a parent deceased and another working with my partner who took a call of another deceased person. These calls are obviously hard to take and listen “with.” You can feel the heartbreak and loss with the caller as to what is unfolding in front of them. You can feel the shroud of darkness within their voice. It is a type of call that simply will never become “easy” to take or one that, as a dispatcher, “you get used to.”

I know I will take those calls with me when I shut the door behind me at the end of the day. I will think about the caller, the victim, the loved ones left behind and how very much their lives changed in that very moment. At sunset the past few days, did they each think about their own lives and who they held close in it and realize how fast it can end? Did they have an opportunity to say a goodbye to their loved ones before their eyes closed for the last time; before they awoke to a new heavenly day?

These three lives impacted me. They came home with me. I will carry them upstairs with me tonight. They have shown me though that:

Life is short.

We are here to LIVE and live we must.

Worrying will not change the outcome.

Love with all you have.

Yesterday was lived so there is no reason to relive it.

An I love you is a precious phrase, and

Tomorrow’s are never promised so live and love with all you have.

The sun set on their lives and in a way it set even on those that loved them so deeply. It is dark for them and will be hard to see any light for a period of time. Tomorrow though the sun will peek over the horizon promising a new day as hard as it is to imagine for them. As A. A. Milne wrote from Winnie the Pooh, “How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbyes so hard.”

At the right time as a dispatcher we disconnect with our callers. We do not hang up first, the original caller hangs up. There is always a goodbye. In situations such as these, they are hard goodbyes. I understand the loss. I understand the upcoming hard final goodbye.

Goodbyes though are not forever…that we are promised.

“I will let you go, but if you need anything please go ahead and call back, okay? Okay. Goodbye”. Call disconnects………

Posted on by Julie Deziel · 1 Comment

How Can You Not Smile?


Oh my!  The joy that a smile of a small child can emulate.  Who can resist the chunky cheeks and a hidden dimple that now presents itself?  A smile will cross each of our faces and for a moment in time the stress in our lives simply melts away.  That joy in their laughter is contagious and virtually pushes out any stress and difficulty that are held within ourselves.  

Working as a 911 dispatcher it often brings along extreme amounts of stress, I often search for ways to let go of the stress so I do not bring it home.  There are those calls that simply attach themselves to my shoulders and climb in the car with me that even listening to Ozzy Osbourne cranked so loud that even the deer turn their heads that does not drown them out.  They will sit there with me on the couch and crawl into bed with me doing their absolute best to ensure they are remembered.  Our brains are wired to remember; not forget.  It will work so very hard to remember even the worst memory.  It is a tough battle fighting against the brain wanting to remember and I know to remember those difficult calls can be detrimental to me personally.  I KNOW that I should not dwell on those calls and work through them.  It is difficult though when I may face the same type of call multiple times within the month or even the same week that compounds the healing process.  I have to dig deep within my bag of tools I have learned through counseling and trial and err to ensure I do not become consumed by those memories.

Those same tools need to be utilized in my day to day stressors in life.  Each life comes with difficulty and so often I have to find ways to get through them, at times weeks or even months.  The joy can be as if it is hidden within a word search and I have to find it in the dark.  Working at a stress-filled job certainly has not made me a pro at handling tough days or periods of life or given me the ability to make good decisions such as I have to do in my job which have to be done in a manner that makes the difference between life and death.  I have to take the same tools I use to work through those tough calls into my personal trials.  

Through my fifty-four years of life and through my chosen path of work I have learned that life is simply too short. In life there is pain and each of us will makes mistakes that will haunt us to the very end of our lives, and at times it seems we carry the weight of the world on our shoulders. The biggest lesson learned though is to take that extra moment to hear that little one laugh and memorize the dimple when they smile.  Kiss the chunky cheeks and feel the stress quietly slip away for a moment.  I have found the most simple joy that fills me to the deepest parts of my soul through the smiles and laughter of my grandchildren.  They allow me the grace to let it all go.  Tomorrow will be a new day with new stressors but for today I will smile along with them and bring the sweet memories of my own children when they were little and the wonderful joy they brought me with those same smiles and innocent giggles.  

Posted on by Julie Deziel · 2 Comments

The Door is Open, Please Come In


I walked into your house today.  Yes, I was invited in from the moment I answered the phone but I certainly preferred not to be there.  You sat me down at the kitchen table and told me the most personal aspects of your life and your marriage,  I did not want to be caught up in so much drama.  Tonight you both have had a few too many alcoholic beverages and you have decided it was time to bring up every sin you believed your husband committed in your relationship.  These are things that should be kept between a husband and a wife.  Tonight, you as a couple could not talk it out and it became more than a talk and now you have asked me in.  I cannot unknow your story.  I see you when we are grocery shopping.  I will know you but you will have no clue it was me you let in and told all your secrets to. 

Tonight I listened to your screams and I screamed inside myself right alongside you as your loved one had just committed suicide.  I shook as I sent help to you knowing there was no hope as you had described the scene to me.  I was on your shoulder as you cried, “Why?” I walked around the house with you as you did simple things that occupied you so we could keep our minds off the horror of what had just happened in the bedroom.  Even though I was right there with you, there was nothing but my forced calm voice to attempt to bring you out of your hysteria.  We were sharing your absolute worst moment.  I was there for you but there was no one for me.  I had to go it alone.  You were going to be able to have family present to comfort you.  Surely you will not think of me but I will think of you for many years to come.

One very early morning you awoke and were forced to call me to tell me the love of your life was gone; peacefully finding eternal rest in his favorite chair in the living room.  You do not want me to hang up with you while you wait alone for those I have sent to you on your absolutely worst day.  You take me in and set me down on the couch beside you as you hold his hand and gently cry and tell me how much you love him.  I hear the story of how you met a strapping young man all those years ago at a county fair and how he has had your heart all these years and you ask how you will go on.  I ask about your children and grandchildren and hear about the immense love he had for them and the jokester that he was.  The responders are there and will soon enter your home but before they do I am witness to a very special kiss and a whispered, “I love you honey.  I love you so” as your quiet sobs are muffled against his cheeks and you leave your tears with him.  My tears are mixed with yours though you never saw them.

The ring of a phone and the simple line of “911, where is your emergency?” brings law enforcement, an ambulance or a fire department but it first brings a dispatcher, the true first responder, into your home, into your life, into incredibly personal moments.  You hang up.  You shut the door that you so willingly unknowingly had me walk through.  I was there for you; never leaving you alone in your time of need.  You more often than not will not think of me again…but from this moment though you do not leave me.