Firefighter

I just want to put this out there for any fire/ems/pd/fp

In this line of work we see things a lot of other people don’t get to see or at least not from our view. This ranges from fires to car wreaks, etc and there’s some worse than others. But if you ever see anything that makes you uncomfortable and starts messing with you, please go talk to someone. It could be your chief, an older member of your dept, someone. Don’t try to bottle up the effects of what you saw. Today, a few members of my department saw their first fatal and I could see how it was effecting them. Don’t be afraid to get help/talk to someone or if you see someone like that, go talk to them. Please don’t hold it in. Thanks

To the People who are like....

please keep in mind that THIS ^^^ is, sadly, not a proper representation. And that THIS ↧↧↧↧↧↧ is what is most likely to respond to your house fire. 

and this….

But no matter what shape, size or gender, we’ll all look just like THIS ˅˅˅˅˅˅˅

and do THIS ˅˅˅˅˅˅˅˅˅˅ 

To save THIS⇊ ⇊ ⇊ ⇊ ⇊ ⇊ All for YOU. 

So please keep an open mind…. AND DON’T SET YOUR HOUSE ON FIRE…. Make us cookies instead. 

Who are you? You’re the beating heart of the city. The tone. The safe sense of security we have when we get into bed at night. The knowledge that your greatest fear isn’t falling to your death or spiders. You dread looking at a screen one day and recognizing a name. An address. Because what do you do when it’s someone you know? Someone, who if they die under your hands, leaves you with a crushing guilt, heavier than any burden you’ve ever carried. Worse than witnessing a baby die in it’s mothers arms. An elderly gentleman succumbing to a disease he’s fought valiantly all of his life. You wonder why you submit yourself to constant mental torture, the unforgiving cycle of no sleep, stress, and anxiety. No sleep because on some days you watch the sun rise, and others you watch it set. No sleep because you can still smell the blood of the nine year old boy whose skull split open on the sidewalk after his drunk mother ran into a telephone pole. No sleep because you question every breath you have taken since then. At times, the bottle of pills on your dresser looks friendly, an open invitation to move on peacefully, away from the searing pain of the images carved into your eyelids. Your imagination is both your enemy and your friend. It offers you a blissful escape when you need it, and haunts your worst nightmares. There is a voice that screams at you, “why?” “what if?” It screams at you in the dark, and you are scarred, but no one notices. Who are you? Who are we? We’re the people that don’t want to be named. We’re the ones, the “they” you call when you make that other decision. We’re the ones who are awake when no one else is, the ones who run in while others run out and the ones who will stop at nothing to make sure you live the life we would want for ourselves. We are first responders.
—  Anonymous