The other day, a new client—just out of her first year as a firefighter—sat across from me, eyes fixed on the floor. "I can't do this alone anymore," she whispered. That moment? That’s why I’m writing.
I’m grateful for the day I finally said those exact words to my own therapist. After two tours, after holding people together while I felt like I was falling apart, I’d convinced myself asking for help was weakness. Courage isn’t what you think, I’d tell others. But I didn’t believe it for myself.
That first session, I choked out, "I’m not okay." And the silence that followed? Not judgment. Just, "Good. Now let’s fix it." That’s when I realized: real courage isn’t carrying it alone. It’s the terrifying, beautiful act of handing the weight to someone else.
It changed me. Not just in therapy—I started seeing my own clients not as broken, but as brave. I stopped waiting for them to "tough it out." I started saying, "Here’s what works: Ask for help." And I mean it. Not as a platitude. As the most radical act of strength I’ve ever witnessed.
Because I’ve seen the worst—bodies on the ground, silence in the ER, the way a veteran’s eyes go flat when they say, "I’m fine." And I’ve seen people survive it. Not by being perfect. By being different. By admitting they couldn’t do it alone.
So if you’re reading this and feeling like you have to hold it all? Stop. Breathe. Reach out. One text. One call. One "I need you." It’s not a crack in your armor—it’s the place where the light gets in.
Your turn. Don’t wait for the "perfect" moment. Start now.
— Lois Brown, still serving