International Critical Incident Stress Foundation, Inc.
International Critical Incident Stress Foundation, Inc.
By: Erika Simmons
October 24, 1999 is a day I will never forget. I had just turned 21 the month before and was working at the Salt Lick BBQ in Driftwood, Texas when I received a call at work that my “mom had been hit and didn’t have a pulse”. Those were the words forever etched in my memory my older sister spoke to me over the phone.
I immediately left the restaurant, my HS boyfriend driving me to the scene. To this day, I am not sure how I knew where to go, but he got us there. I exited the car in a hurry and began asking the first responders where the woman in the Mazda minivan was. I was repeatedly told there was no one with that vehicle description. I then looked over and saw the crime scene tape with a body nearby covered with a white sheet. I darted under the tape, with responders yelling at me to “get back”! For a brief second, a ring on the hand of the deceased caught my attention. I recognized it to be the ring my mother wore.
It was in that instance that my world as I knew it shattered. A day and a moment in time that will never be erased. It was also a day that I rarely ever spoke about again. However, it was a day I often struggled with. For 20 years, I held it all inside and never sought help.
If I had to travel the road my mom’s life was so tragically taken, I would experience anxiety within 5 minutes of the location. I found myself becoming angry if I was busy on the anniversary date and if it slipped my mind until later in the day. I would become grief stricken if I realized days before the date that it was approaching. Relationships with friends and my marriage suffered. I had convinced myself that I was not worthy of love or happiness but most of all I convinced myself that if my mom “left” me who would stick around? I did not fight for friendships or relationships when I should have, and I was easy to cut people off if there was a perceived slight or hurt, they caused.
Fast forward to 2016, I was recommended by my Captain to put in for the Hays County Regional CISM Team. I did and I was accepted to the team. While getting to know the co-coordinators and telling my story about my mom, for one of the first times, I learned my co-coordinator was also the Victim’s Assistance responder to my mom’s scene, in fact my mom’s scene was her first scene as a solo VA responder.
While being on the CISM team, I grew to find great pleasure in helping my peers through their critical incidents, although I did not always share my story. In 2019, I attended a Post Critical Incident Stress seminar at Sam Houston State where after 20 long years of merely coping, I told my story. Through the tears I began to tell my story to strangers who all had their own story. It was not until the next morning, in a small group session I realized due to being so emotional, I never finished the story to my peers. I never spoke the words that my mother had been a victim in an auto/pedestrian crash and lost her life. I never spoke the words that even to this day, I had unanswered questions… was it an accident? Was it suicide? I did not share the grief that I carried of not being able to tell my mom that I loved her. In my small group, I was able to tell them all those things.
I was asked by a peer to let them try EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) on me. I was hesitant, but I agreed. At this point I was willing to finally try to heal. It started with tears flowing imagining the image of my mom. After what seemed to be an hour or so session, I was able to speak about seeing my mom covered with that white sheet. It worked. After carrying around this weight for 20 years, I felt relief. I was free from these images.
I know EMDR may not work on everyone, but I would challenge anyone who is struggling with a critical incident to give it a shot. I call it voodoo and, in my instance, nothing short of a small miracle.
I have found a home on my CISM team. It is a real joy to be able to help other responders through their critical incidents. In my 4 years of being on the team, I have participated in over 24 debriefs. I find it easier and easier to share my story and to help normalize the feelings of guilt, sadness, anger, and the other stages of grief with others involved in critical incidents. For 20 years the incident held so much power and control over me and to have addressed it and to now know that it no longer has that power and control means so much.
I have seen CISM work on myself with incidents at work. I have seen it work on one of the toughest SWAT guys I know, after we lost a local officer on a warrant service. I have experienced how just being a listening ear helps people open up and tell their horror stories of years and years on the job. I have been cussed because some of these stories have never been told to anyone else, but I will take it. I know when I listen to a peer speak what is on their heart and mind, be it a fresh case or an old one, I am making a difference in them. No matter how big or small, a difference for the better is still a difference. I want to lessen the First Responder suicide rate, and if it means I stay up all night in a driveway or a parking lot then I will do it. CISM is important. My brothers and sisters are important. The fight for a stronger mental health among all First Responders is important and I believe to achieve that, CISM is a step in the process.
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