She is the face, the face of depression

Written by the daughters of 2 retired RCMP officers

She is a mom.
She is a wife.
She is a gram.
She is strong.
She is independent.
She is a hero.
She is a friend.
She is our rock.
She is our best friend.
She is a hard worker.
She is dedicated.
She is passionate.

She worked tirelessly for years, at a job that she was passionate about.
She had (maybe) 6 sick days during her 18 year career.
She was the first to help her coworkers in need.
She was treated disrespectfully by an outfit that she dedicated her heart and work to.
She loved working for and with people of all walks of life, but especially endangered women and children.
She is an advocate for women’s and children’s rights.
She is now retired.

She should be enjoying her retirement.
She is suffering from severe depression.
She is fighting off the darkest of dark thoughts.
She is enduring the most excruciatingly painful days of her life.

She has lost hope.
She has lost her spark.
She has lost her way.
She has lost her light.
She wanted to end the pain.
She felt suicide was the only way.

We are not willing to let this brightest light in our life go.
She is far too precious.
She is far too special.
She is far too valuable (in so many ways).

She is the face, the face of depression.
She is our mom.

Depression doesn’t look like what you would expect. It can affect anyone, even the strongest, brightest, most beautiful people in our lives. We need to do more than just say there is stigma around mental illness. We need to do more than say “I am here to help”. And we need to fight for health resources, for those who aren’t able to fight. We NEED to do better. The alternative is not an option.

September 10, 2016 is annual suicide prevention day.


I am the PTSD Spouse, Part 2


I am the one who started to see glimpses of the old life.

I am the one who drove to every appointment.

I am the one who encouraged you to leave the house.

I am the one who helped you to find a new “normal”.

I am the one who was still there when you found your laughter again.

I was the one who said maybe THAT part isn’t about PTSD, maybe THAT part is something every parent feels some days.

I am the one who walked beside you while you did the hard work.

I am the one who meditates with you.

I am the one who didn’t panic on a bad day.

I am the one who sees you as you are now. A strong brave man who wasn’t afraid to admit he was hurting and faced this demon head on and chooses every day not to let it win!

By Jess

It’s never too late to say Thank You


Thank you Daddy

I keep thinking it’s too late, but remind myself that it’s never too late to say thank you.

You don’t know me, but I am the daughter of a police officer, and reading of the loss of any officer really hit home. I know how important your job is, and can barely fathom how stressful it can be.

While my dad, like most officers, is a strong, masculine, proud man, I can see the tragedies he’s witnessed, hidden behind his blue eyes. I can see the stress lines that map his face, and the exhaustion of his mind and body when he arrives home.

My dad has missed birthdays, Christmas’ and other family gatherings because duty called, like it does for many officers. As a kid I remember being disappointed, but never angry. I was always proud of my dad that was protecting the world. My own personal superman, and I just assumed everyone viewed him that way. Nevertheless, as an adult, I now see that this is not the case.

Some people view police as power hungry, doing injustice, never being in the right place, ruining their families, delivering bad news. Officers moves are scrutinized and publicized. They are torn down by the very same people they show up to help. That’s the thing about police officers. It doesn’t matter how many times they are publicly and maliciously attacked–when you call the police, whether you like/respect them or not, they will be there to help you, your family, your friends and your neighbours in their time of need.

Rarely are officers celebrated and thanked for what they do on a daily basis, nor is it acknowledge the extreme toll their job takes on their mind, body, family and more.

So, I just wanted to say, as someone who has grown up with a behind-the-scenes view, Thank-you.

Thank-you for bravely strapping in for a roller-coaster of a day, every day, prepared to assist and protect your community as best as you can.

Thank-you for missing your sons hockey game, your wife’s birthday, or your daughters play to make sure my family can sleep soundly at night.

Thank-you for compassionately helping people through situations they’d otherwise not know how to navigate, such as death, car accidents, break-ins and assaults.

I am sorry for the horrible destruction and tragedy you see and that you are forced to valiantly carrying that burden with you wherever you go.


A Police Officer was buried today…

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A Police Officer was buried today…
And a piece of our country she swore to protect goes with her
The Canada flag flies at half-mast again today
Her name will be added to a memorial wall
While a young, widower must work to raise their children alone
And spend many long, lonely nights.
Those who worked and loved her will carry a heavy burden
As they struggle to make themselves whole once more
Yes, A Police Officer was buried today…
Maybe it was in your city or not,
She put her life on the line
It happened while we slept in comfort
She answered the call . . . of herself she gave her all,
And because of this a part of Canada has died as well…
Families of the RCMP for PTSD Awareness

Christmas in Uniform

It’s here again the Christmas season,

Most think that I hate it for no rhyme or reason.

The lights the gifts the glee & song,

Most don’t know how much can go wrong.


Children should have happy dreams,

There should be no more horrible screams.

The smiles of those during this hectic pace

Can never cover the terror we must face.


We put on this uniform with such pride,

But then we face things we can not hide.

The grief in the street,

Is the evil we must challenge and greet.


The shots, the crashes the sudden stoppage of a heart,

Is what truly tears us apart.

I wish I could put these memories away,

And make them never come back on this or any other day.


But now it is Christmas and I should smile,

But in reality I would rather walk alone another mile.

Alone with my thoughts, of the past,

I truly wish they would not last.


All year they rest on a shelf,

But on this day you can’t help but share them with yourself.

So on this day when you complain that I hate it,

Please just remember that sometimes I can not take it.


It is not that I hate this time of year,

But I know what is out there to fear.

When most think of Christmas with hope and with cheer,

I just pray it will be better this year.


To each and all in uniform this year,

I hope and pray you no fear.



I Am Good Enough

Do not say I’m not good enough.
I will prove you wrong.
I may be bruised and battered, but my honour is still strong.
My eyes have seen the horrors and my ears have heard the cries.
My hands have felt the lifeless, despite my fervent tries.

The battles are endless and I fight them all.
I don’t really have a choice.
If I give in, then the demons win.
Theirs can’t be the only voice.
Their drone is constantly in my head, begging me to fall.
If I just give in, the pain will cease. Silencing it all.

I reach out my hand and hope you’re there,
Yet you ask me to do more.
I’ve been let down, abandoned, shunned.
You’ve closed every open door.
But still I stand, though weakened some, by the scars I’m forced to bear.
They show I’ve fought and survived each day.
They are the badge that I now wear.

You look at me as if I’m done.
You say my time has passed.
But without me watching for the wolf,
How long would those sheep last?

You CAN’T say I’m not good enough.
I’ve won battles large and small.
So here I stand. You are in my debt.
You owe me for them all.

By Carol Green

Who Am I?

I am the voice that calms the mother breathing life into her infant son. I am the invisible hand that holds and comforts the elderly man who woke up and found his wife of 50 years had passed away during the night. I am the friend who talks the disgruntled teenager out of ending her own life. I sent help when you had your first automobile accident.

I am the one who tries to obtain the information from callers to ensure that the scene is safe for those I dispatch to emergencies – all the while anticipating the worst and hoping for the best.

I am the psychologist who readily adapts by language and tone of voice to serve the needs of my callers with compassion and understanding. I am the ears that listen to the needs of all those I serve.

I have heard the screams of faceless people I will never meet nor forget. I have cried at the atrocities of mankind and rejoiced at the miracle of life.
I was there, though unseen, by my comrades in the field during the most trying emergencies. I have tried to visualize the scene to coincide with the voices I have heard.

I am usually not privy to the outcome of the call, and so I wonder…I am the one who works weekends, strange shifts, and holidays. Children do not say they want my job when they grow up. Yet, I am at this vocation by choice. Those I help do not call back to say thank you. Still, there is comfort in the challenge, integrity, and the purpose of my employment.

I am thankful to provide such a meaningful service. I am a mother, a father, sister, brother, son, or a daughter. I am here when you need me and still here when you don’t. My office is never empty, and the work here is never done. I am always on call. The training is strenuous, demanding, and endless. No two days at work are ever the same.

Who Am I?
I am an emergency dispatcher, and I am proud