When a critical incident occurs for a first responder, it’s become common to hear, “Thoughts and prayers!” These kind words help because they convey caring about the work of critical incident response. Yet, as first responders, you know that action and courage and other values also are essential to giving people hope. These values must go beyond thoughts and prayers.

First response is all about hope. People who are hurting and scared take their hope from first responders. People hope that:

●      those who intend to harm them won’t succeed,

●      their houses and forests won’t burn to the ground,

●      their loved ones will be found—and found alive,

●      family and friends will make it to the hospital in time,

●      their children will be protected in their schools and other public places,

●      someone with a kind spirit will be there when the worst happens.

First Responders Represent Hope to Others

First responders want to deliver on those hopes; they train for years to develop skills that help them succeed.

But what happens when something goes awry? How do you keep going when you can’t save people’s lives? And how do you continue when disaster strikes and tens of thousands of people die, and there’s nothing you can do about it?

How do you deal with your own sense of regret, guilt, or failure when the bad stuff happens, and you can’t help? And how do you stand the pain of your own losses of family, friends, and colleagues, especially those who gave their lives so that others might live?

You grieve.

Or you should grieve. But first responders can’t afford to grieve in the moment. Operationally, you can’t lead with your emotions. So, many first responders stay in control and put that grief into containers where it accumulates and stacks up for days or weeks, sometimes for years. People of action and courage often falsely equate grief with something that others do but not you. It may seem wimpy to have grief or to grieve a loss. And, because hope is deeply connected to healthy grieving, you may leave hope to others, too, mistakenly rejecting it as weak and shameful.

No Shame in Grieving

Hope isn’t weak or shameful. And it’s as necessary for first responders to have as it is for other people.

Hope is a powerful light in the darkness, much brighter than the thoughts and prayers others might send on your behalf. No, hope is about what you can do to change your own thinking and behavior, allowing you to change your own world. Finding hope isn’t about wearing a mask of forced stoicism. Finding hope in the grief of first response is forging a route toward genuine internal strength.

Hope is a tool for self-caring, intentional mourning, and remaining mentally strong.