By Donnie Steel
Blog Entry: Dated February 1st
Welcome to My Therapy
This blog serves as my therapy.
After more than 23 years in the Westminster police force, I knew I was done and needed to move on. A case involving the horrifying death of a female minor had shaken me to the core. A case which to this day is still unsolved. This fact gnawing at the back of my skull like an angry parasite.
I had been one of the youngest recruits at 21 years of age to pass the state certified law enforcement academy and become an entry-level police officer. In all those years, I achieved many positions within the force. I worked traffic and patrol. Then made detective, worked in K-9, did undercover work in Narcotics, and even had been part of the physically demanding SWAT team. In all those positions, I received several promotions and accommodations for outstanding service on the force. All the work I accomplished had been a revelation—both rewarding and frustrating, the latter more so in my final years. In my mind, the motto: “To Protect and to Serve” had lost its luster.
And then it happened. A young girl, whose name I won’t mention, had gone missing. The search for her had lasted nearly two weeks when the body was finally found. A gruesome end to such a young life, one I won’t detail here on the blog. The story has been written all over the web and doesn’t need more embellishment from me. The moment I learned the remains had been found, I knew my days were coming to an end. I went to Peer Support where officers with similar issues would meet after traumatic incidents. I followed this up in therapy with a highly trained psychologist, where we met a couple times a week. I held on for more than a year and even took desk duty, an option I swore I’d never do. With all these support mechanisms, I thought I’d get over the hump, but alas this wouldn’t be the case. I turned in my notice to my superiors, who all hoped to change my mind, for they knew I had been a model officer and they hated losing me. Especially considering the staff shortages the department was experiencing. But for my sanity, I needed to walk away, or I was afraid I would leer at the end of a bottomless bottle of whiskey and drink myself into oblivion. Or even worse, stare down the barrel of a gun in my own hands.
Other factors over time had added to my burden. My wife Wendi, whom I had loved since senior year of high school, passed away over two years ago from ovarian cancer after a long struggle. A partner in my life who had been with me through thick and thin. The two of us had built together a joyous life and raised a wonderful daughter. Wendi’s death had been expected, but still shocked me. I had held out hope, through constant prayer, a miracle would save her. Alas, my prayers weren’t answered and the miracle never materialized. I required time off to grieve and recover. A year after I returned to work, the death of the young girl occurred. It now seemed to me this was a sign from the great beyond. I needed to explore other options. Soon after, my years as a police officer would be behind me.
After many hours home alone in retirement and long conversations with my daughter, I knew it was time to get off my ass. I sold the house and bought a 42-foot Class A motorhome, a big, enclosed trailer to haul my Honda motorcycle, and decided to travel. A plan Wendi and I hoped to do when I retired. To explore the country together and absorb all the sights and sounds of this vast land. Her spirit, ashes, and framed pictures would be forever with me. I was on the road to fulfill the promise we had made to each other.
Before I began my journey, people close to me remarked: “You should write a novel about your experiences.”
Hell, I wish I could type it all down easily. The thoughts being scattered and too unorganized to be written out in a novel format. Instead, I decided to start this blog as therapy. Those scattered thoughts are more easily cornered in this binary format. Digital print being free chapters of my book for you to read. Covering my journey as a police officer, husband, and father. A few of the names changed to protect the innocent, as they used to proclaim on Dragnet. Musings of an ex-cop to keep the horrible memories at bay. Flushing them from my brain while I type them in computer ink.
I hope you return every few weeks, to read what is new and take what I’ve written to heart. A heart I wear on my sleeve. Comment below, reach out if you have questions or experiences to share. I’m there to help all I can. Together we can find peace in the turbulent storms of our lives.
May life shine happiness upon you!!
Donnie Steel