It was a mild September morning in Ottawa when Murray Dawson leaned over the edge of a hotel roof, seconds away from jumping to his death.
Instead, he's still here and sharing his story in hopes of helping others who may be having similar struggles.
Dawson, 48, is a Chatham-Kent paramedic who recently shared a five-minute video on YouTube that chronicles his personal battle with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).
Dawson grew up in the Merlin area before moving to Chatham where he stayed for nearly two decades. Unsure what to do after graduating, Dawson eventually gravitated towards becoming a paramedic, a job he has had for the past 24 years and a job that would eventually bring him difficulties he could never predict.
According to Dawson, years into his career he began noticing negative thoughts sneaking up on him that he couldn't explain. He said people around him even saw the changes in his personality.
"I was so angry," he said. "And that's not me. I'm not an angry person."
Recognizing that he should have reached out for help sooner, Dawson said he was reluctant for a long time to tell anyone how bad he was struggling. Dawson said he was afraid if he spoke out it would mean he might have to leave his job as a paramedic, a job that he describes as being part of his identity. Instead, he continued to take on the grief that he saw on a daily through his patients, oftentimes bringing it home with him and feeling like he held the burden on his shoulders.
"It was my identity, it was who I was. If you take that away then I didn't know who I was going to be," he said. "It really scared the heck out of me. I just kept plugging away and plugging away."
Dawson explained that there was no specific incident that led him to feel the way he did, but rather a build-up of stress over time.
According to a 2011 study published in National Center for Biotechnology Information Search database, paramedics have the highest PTSD levels out of all emergency service workers with 14.6 per cent, compared to 7.3 per cent of firefighters and 4.7 per cent for police.
According to Donald MacLellan, general manager for Medavie EMS Chatham-Kent, with paramedics dedicating their life to helping people, it can be difficult for them to reach out when they need help.
"We see patients or clients at some of the most vulnerable times in their life. Sometimes that's traumatic," explained MacLellan. "Sometimes even what we deem the simplest call may have some emotional effect that you're not prepared for...that can wear on your mental well being and stress without even realizing it. Sometimes multiple calls over time can really compound if you're not dealing with them, then there's a breaking point."
Dawson reached his personal breaking point in September 2017 when he had travelled to Ottawa to receive an Emergency Medical Services Exemplary Service Medal for 20 years in the field. He describes visiting his cousins' lakehouse in Quebec during the same trip, floating on the lake in a big pink flamingo but still feeling anger inside and self-hate inside, wishing he could talk to someone. He had even made a doctor's appointment the following Monday.
However, the dark thoughts became too much to handle. Feeling simply "tired" and "done" with life and with several beers in his system at 3 a.m., Dawson was ready to end it all.
"I walked over to the railing and looked out across downtown Ottawa," Dawson said in his YouTube video. "I stood up on the cement lip of the railing and looked down, 14th-floor balcony. Looking down there's another roof on or around the second or third floor. That's where I would land... my next thought was it would be so easy just to jump and end all this pain and hurt and be at peace."
Before he could go ahead with it, Dawson said the thought of his now 22-year-old son and 20-year-old daughter popped into his head and he knew he couldn't jump. Dawson said he credits them with saving his life. Although that night was his lowest point, it quickly also became a turning point for him, the point that he decided to get help.
Dawson texted MacLellan the next day to let him know something wasn't right. He also stayed in constant communication with a physiologist throughout the weekend until he returned to Chatham-Kent on Monday where he met with his family doctor.
Dawson got the formal diagnosis of PTSD and began his journey to healing which started with taking time off work. He said it took a while before he could come to terms with what was happening.
"I just knew I couldn't be at work. I just needed to do nothing," he said. "It still boggles my mind and a lot of people don't understand how, but it took me probably until February 2018 to sort of accept that I had PTSD. Once I did, I started to improve. "
In the months that followed, Dawson credited switching from unhealthy coping mechanisms to healthy coping mechanisms with helping him get by. He has since given up drinking alcohol, something he said he heavily relied on to deal with the increasingly dark thoughts he was having.
"At the time I would feel okay then I just wouldn't stop [drinking]. It would snowball, I would drink way too much," said Dawson. "It got really bad... I had to make the decision to stop, it wasn't going to end well. If I had kept drinking I probably wouldn't be here today."
In mid-2019 Dawson decided it was time to ease into going back to work. He said the main factor for returning to work was wanting to make sure that when his career ends, it's on his own terms.
"I didn't want to end my career that way," he said. "It was something I had to do for myself. I don't know how long I'll work for, could be a year, could be five. I just had to go back."
He recently just finished his fourth full shift and said he keeps a different mindset this time around, realizing that although his career is important, it does not define who he is. He said he's also working on not taking the burden of the job home with him as he did before.
"My mind was always on," he explained. "I just never had downtime."
Now, if Dawson does have a bad day, he copes with it in different ways including journaling, spending a lot of time outdoors, meditating, going to therapy or simply just talking about what's wrong.
"I'm more of an open book. That's the hardest step, admitting that you need help and you have a problem or and injury," he said. "One of my healthier coping mechanisms is I'll talk to my kids."
Dawson also works out frequently, something he said was a big part of his life beforehand. However, he constantly reminds himself and others to treat mental or emotional illnesses the same way you would a physical injury.
As he returned to the job, Dawson knew it was also important to share his story with others. He started making presentations to paramedic training classes across Chatham-Kent, encouraging others to never be afraid to reach out for help, a message he said he wishes was around when he first started out in the field.
"That's one of the reasons I shared my story... there's so many of us, police, fire, nurses, doctors, veterans, anyone who is out helping people. We, unfortunately, forget to help ourselves," he said. "Which is sort of backwards."
According to MacLellan, peer to peer support is just one of the avenues that are now available for paramedics to prevent them from developing PTSD or to help out those who have it. MacLellan said there are a number of resources available for anyone struggling, including increased training and new legislation under the Workplace Safety and Insurance Act that presumes PTSD can result from the duties emergency responders perform.
MacLellan added that there have been great strides made over the last several years to eliminate the stigma around PTSD and mental illness.
"There's a blanketed mental health story to be told here. No matter what you do or who you are, we all have to take care of ourselves and hopefully deal with the barriers that mental health stressors bring upon us," MacLellan said. "There's always someone there. Whether it be within your own organization or peers, colleagues, family friends, police. Reach out and connect with somebody. There's always help no matter what."
After sharing his story verbally with local paramedics, Dawson then decided to ask his future son-in-law, a filmmaker, to record his story into a condensed video version in hopes that it could reach more people.
Dawson has since moved back to Merlin and now takes life day by day. He admitted it was nerve-racking to share such a personal story on a public platform but hopes by doing so he can save a life just like his life was saved on that mild September morning.
"I just did it just in the hopes that no one stands on their balcony," Dawson said. "Even if I help one person by just sharing my story and being uncomfortable, that's all I wanted to do."
You can watch Dawson's full YouTube video below.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XG2btoiijDQ