“Being an RCMP officer in rural Nova Scotia can feel like patrolling the endless dark nights alone on winding backroads—shadows closing in, every distant sound echoing with uncertainty and isolation, with my family as the faint, steady light that calls me home through the void after each solitary watch.
I’ve returned home shaken after dealing with fatal crashes caused by drunk drivers, their blood still on my hands as a reminder of how one bad choice can destroy families, or finding overdose victims in remote areas, kneeling beside them as they slip away, questioning if I could have prevented it in our struggling communities—or bolting upright in bed, drenched in sweat from relentless nightmares that drag me back into the heart-wrenching hell of a catastrophic flood, where merciless raging waters devoured lives and razed entire communities, forever searing into my soul the ghostly faces of those we lost, the unbearable grief of finding the aftermath of a life taken, and the soul-crushing agony of knowing, in my gut, that we couldn’t reach them fast enough despite our frantic, bone-weary struggles, a failure that echoes in my every quiet moment.
Then there’s the frustration of finally bringing a repeat offender to what should be justice—after countless hours building a case, facing dangers to make the arrest—only to watch the system act like a revolving door, releasing them back into the same streets where I know, deep down, they’ll re-offend and hurt more lives, leaving me feeling helpless and questioning the point of it, all while taking the blame from keyboard warriors who often preach their “facts” with half truths and whole lies.
The online criticism can be frustrating, from people who will never stand in the arena, who don’t understand the fear of confronting an armed person on an isolated road or how constant scrutiny makes me doubt myself, even worrying about losing my kids’ faith in me because of the job’s toll.
In my lowest moments, alone in the patrol car fighting back tears, I find strength again in small wins: hugging a survivor I helped save, hearing a neighbor confide in me during crisis, or seeing a troubled teen turn their life around because I offered guidance. Or facing off with a suicidal person, who is pressing me to end their life, with the ultimatum that they will end mine if I don’t, and still finding the will to talk them down, so that we all see another sunrise.
The things that matter most, never get a spotlight in public opinion, and often happen while the world around these hurting souls, sleep.
As the world wakes up, I’ve often geared down, sitting on the end of my bed, thanking God, wondering how I managed to get through the night.
The work breaks you down, revealing personal weaknesses, but it builds you up through love for my family, these close-knit communities, and the belief that one compassionate act matters.
We keep going not as heroes, but because being vulnerable is part of protecting the people we care about, and that’s where I find real meaning.”
~ From a trusted Nova Scotia RCMP police officer and human being behind the badge.
