Mental Maydays - Responding to a Loss that Doesn't Make Headlines
- CJ Dickinson
- 4 days ago
- 4 min read
It is no secret that loss is a significant part of what we encounter in fire and emergency services. The visible losses we see are in the burned-out structures, the mangled vehicles, and the tears of loved ones as we conduct a pronouncement after exhausting all our efforts. It likely isn’t a shock to you that there is a quieter and harder to name loss. A loss that our families and friends feel long before we recognize it.
Last month I had the opportunity to attend the Shield of Armor Wellness Seminar hosted by Cape Girardeau Police Department. Their group put together a magnificent lineup of speakers to focus on improving our mental wellness, growth, and culture change. Dr. Erin Craw opened the session on the first day with magnificent and thought-provoking information through her lens as a researcher and her first-hand experience. As the daughter of a police officer, she shared with the attendees some of her experiences with what I am about to highlight from her presentation.
It’s called ambiguous loss – and this was the first time I heard about it.
What is ambiguous loss?
Dr. Pauline Boss first named ambiguous loss in the 1970’s as a type of grief that does not have closure. She further breaks it down into two types:
Type One – Physical absence with psychological presence
An example is being on shift and missing a holiday, birthday, or other special event.
Type Two – Psychological absence with physical presence
An example is when you are with family and friends but not connected due to a critical incident you recently responded to
I imagine that after reading this very brief overview it sounds familiar to you. After hearing Dr. Craw speak about this, I immediately thought of one very particular picture from two years ago that my aunt captured of my youngest son and I at a wrestling tournament.
Reflecting on this time-period, I was at an extremely low point. I was isolating myself from everyone. My phone was constantly on do not disturb. I wouldn’t respond to text messages or voicemails. Like many others, I showed up for every shift I was scheduled for though and I showed up for every event that I was able to physically attend.
Why it Hits Hard
This picture is from April 2023, it speaks volumes to me thinking about it and where I was mentally then. At the end of the day in Cape Girardeau, I pulled this picture up on my camera roll and had a very candid and deep conversation surrounding what I was feeling now while reflecting on this moment.
As you can see, he is looking up to me (I am a tad bit taller) while giving him a pep talk before getting on the mat to wrestle back on day two of the tournament. The primary question that I am unfortunately unable to answer is “was I both physically and psychologically present?”
Obviously, there is photographic evidence of my physical presence at this tournament with him.
He and I recently discussed this picture, it turns out that it is one of his favorite photographs of us together. And yes, I am candid with him about my struggles. Which is specifically why we were having a conversation about where I was mentally in this photo, my latest self-reflection on it, and a comparison to where I am now mentally.
Fast forward to his senior night on January 29, 2025, this moment was captured and shared with us. To me, there is a stark difference that is evident in these two photos. I can tell with you with one hundred percent certainty I was both physically and mentally present in this moment. Granted each of them is a singular moment in time. But our lives and stories are a conglomeration of many moments.
We owe it to our families, friends, and each other to do better. To shift our culture and take proactive actions to make the fire service and each other better than we found them.
Naming the Unseen
The power of naming this type of loss is that it gives shape to something that is formless. As firefighters we are problem-solvers. We work best when we see what we’re facing and what we’ve trained for. While we haven’t trained for this yet, by naming it and calling it out as “ambiguous loss” we are defining a strategic objective to overcome.
When we know what we’re dealing with, we can stop blaming ourselves for not “getting over it.” We can stop expecting to “snap out of it.” And we can start implementing mitigation tasks and tactics to overcome it and walk through it.
What Can We Do?
There are no quick fixes or one-size fits all solutions to solve this. But there are options:
Acknowledge it: Be vulnerable. Talk to someone you trust. A peer, a coach, or clinician.
Grieve what’s missing: There is still loss here, just not in the traditional sense. Grieving here becomes a form of strength.
Find new meaning: What values, missions, or connections still hold true for you? Let them anchor you.
Support others: If you recognize someone else is experiencing ambiguous loss, be the person who is present to support them.
Allow duality: Two things can be simultaneously true yet different. For example, you can feel proud and exhausted.
A Final Word
The toughest fires we fight aren’t always on the fireground. When we name formless and abstract feelings and emotions, when we face them together, we take away their power.
Ambiguous loss may never offer closure. But it can offer opportunities for connection, growth, and a deeper kind of resilience - one that doesn’t just survive the fire but rises like the phoenix from the ashes with greater strength and purpose.
You’re not alone in this.
The article was written by Battalion Chief CJ Dickinson (a 26-year veteran of the Fire & Emergency Service community)
Picture Credits: AnneMarie Palatnik (2023) and Unknown (2025)
Sources: https://www.ambiguousloss.com/about/
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