Page 54 - December 2018

For your mental health
With the recent loss of another officer in the line of duty, I would like to stress to my sisters and brothers that there is hope for emotional healing. Samuel Jimenez’s death not only affects his fam- ily, but it ripples through the Depart- ment. And his district. And his watch.
All officers responding to calls are re- minded of the worst possibility. Having less than two years on the job, his death hits the academy staff hard.
The current way we’re viewed, I think we’re losing our identity. We feel our work is not being accepted or appreci- ated. We feel our work is being viewed as a threat. I’m thinking, “Why am I still doing this? Why risk it?”
Many of us drop into our own depres- sion. We have those thoughts: “What is the use of living? I’m a cop, and a cop is
no longer appreciated. A cop is no good. I’m no good anymore. I might as well eat my gun.”
Unofficially, one in 10 of us has a mental illness – PTSD or depression. That’s 1,400 of us. By outing myself as having a mental illness, I guess there is hope to recover.
And I wrote “Disturbance With A Mental,” a book of poems and stories, to let all Chicago Police Officers know that they are not alone. Their traumas are ex- perienced by others, and there is hope for recovery.
Here are a few excerpts that can help us all through the grief over the loss of Samuel Jimenez and the other challeng- es on and off the job:
“Sheep’’
Count your sheep. Darkness is falling. They are here. Always.
Just out of reach. Lurking in the shad- ows.
Red eyes glowing. Watching. Searching for an opening. Any crack. Ready to ambush. To exploit your weaknesses.
You try to shine a light. To frighten them away.
They don’t move. They don’t shirk the light.
The light only exposes their razor fangs.
They glisten as they reect your light. Ready to tear. To rip. To disembowel. Daylight is a false security.
They are harder to see. Harder to hear. But they remain.
You strain building a wall.
Protection. To keep them at bay.
That takes energy. All your energy. What frightens you the most,
is that you know they are still there. Sneaking.
At times you can hear them laugh. Unafraid.
Your walls mean nothing.
Night falls. You begin to panic. Dread- ing their return.
Exhausted you wait for sleep. To es- cape.
But there are times when even your dreams are not safe.
They overcome the barriers of your
sleep.
Haunting your dreams.
You lay helpless. Hoping for sleep. Hoping for peace.
But your thoughts are being taken. Clawed forward. Away from behind your walls.
They distort your past. No light.
Only darkness as their fangs rip in. They tear away at the esh of your goodness.
They expose the bones of your mis- takes.
Of your past.
You attempt to grasp at your integrity. Your virtue.
All the good you have done.
Any good you have done.
You can’t hold on. You slip slowly down into the black.
The pain is overwhelming. Ever pres- ent.
Your feeble attempts to escape receive only laughter.
Fangs glittering red in your impotent light.
The entrails of your hope, your dreams,
Lay about your husk of humanity.
The Darkness is coming.
Count your Sheep.
The Wolves are out.
They are Here.
“Can You See Me?’’
Can you see me?
I see you. I see your fears.
I see the Dark Angel engulfing.
Its wings imprisoning.
Can you see me?
I see you. Trying to break free.
I see you attempting to pry open your cage.
Your strength is weakening.
Can you see me?
I see you. I see you fighting.
I see you falling. Alone.
Take my hands.
Won’t you see me?
I see you. I see your pain.
I see the Demons surrounding. Let me hold you.
Won’t you see us?
We see you. We see your tears.
We see you drawing us in. Blocking us.
We are here.
Let us lift you.
Chicago Police Officer John Tolley has been on the job since 1986.
He is currently assigned to the Department’s Crisis Intervention Team.
54 CHICAGO LODGE 7 ■ DECEMBER 2018