Not even two years after joining the fire service, I wondered how long I could survive the career. It was the summer of 2022, and the post-pandemic landscape was shifting the fire service forever. In Portland, Ore., firehouses suffered a staggering double call volume compared to previous years. As a newbie, I was floating between more than 30 stations, working from the east side to the west end.
The story was the same no matter where I went: crews were waking up more and more every night at rates never before seen.
When I entered the fire service, I thought I knew what I was in for: exposure to carcinogens, toxins, and exhaust fumes, the likelihood of cancer, the struggles with metabolic diseases, etc. As a health and wellness coach in my former career, I was ready to dive deep into my cache of tools and resources to live the straining lifestyle of a firefighter in the most healthful way possible.
I had no idea that almost every difficult issue I’d see in the fire service was due to one thing: sleep deprivation. And unfortunately, it was a topic I was wholly unprepared to deal with.
Chronic health issues, I understood. Three years before my start in the academy, I had been cleared of what has been called the bacterial form of cancer – Lyme disease. For three years, I fought like heck to regain my health. And when I did, I decided to become a firefighter. I knew my body had been through a lot during that season, but I was bound and determined to do whatever I could for my health in my new career.
I hired a world-renowned biohacker to create a firefighter biohacking regimen in the spirit of positivity and proactivity.
After spending more than $25,000 on Lyme disease treatments, the $3,000 fee to work with the biohacker felt reasonable. I implemented his program with gusto, following the workout plan, nutrition and supplement schedule, biohacking strategies including a sauna and cold plunge cycling, and mitigating electromagnetic fields.
At the end of three months, I had never been so defeated. After religiously following the program, I barely looked any different – not to mention, I was tired and cranky. And I spent so much time “recovering” from work that it barely felt like I was living my life. When I finally expressed this discouragement to my coach, he told me: “I think you can do everything in your power to be healthy and recovered, but as long as you aren’t sleeping, you will never be able to maximize your progress.”
Those words hit me like a backdraft. I thought sleep was the last thing I could control in my job. If everything about my health and well-being depended on my sleep, all was lost.
And it wasn’t just me. I looked around and saw the effects of sleep debt on my fellow firefighters, too. It seemed everyone else was just “sucking it up,” accepting begrudgingly that sleep debt was simply in the cards for us. Sure, people complained about it, but no one had any solutions.
Then, one day, I came face to face with the harsh reality of my new sleep-deprived life. I walked in the door of my house after a particularly challenging double shift and found the dishes in the sink dirty.
The positive, upbeat, caring, and sensitive self I had been my entire life disappeared, and what reared up in her stead was nothing short of Exorcist-like proportions.
When I finally found myself again, I was ashamed, appalled, and terrified. This sleep debt wasn’t just affecting my body, but also my mind and emotions. I imagined myself five years into the future and the person I saw was someone I wouldn’t even want to be married to.
That was when something shifted. I was going to find a way to recover my sleep.
If I didn’t, I would risk losing not simply my partner and husband of 10 years, I was also going to lose myself. I set off on a quest, devouring every book, reading studies on sleep, and unearthing articles about mitigating sleep debt.
After many hours of research, I found an article on the effects of sleep debt on firefighters called Addicted to Awake. I found an organization called First Responder Sleep Recovery from there. To my amazement, they had a training retreat in Colorado for practitioners who wanted to become certified in their method. I reached out immediately.
From the first session, it was clear this would change my life. Over the next five days, I learned about the sleep practice adapted from the Department of Defense’s program iRest. I learned the complexities around why firefighters can’t sleep, the precursors we need to address before we can even try to sleep, and that sleep is not just a body problem, which is why so many doctors don’t know what to do with us.
For the first time in a year, I was heartened to know we had agency to fix our sleep.
The first commitment I made was to myself. Every night, whether at the fire station or home, I would put in the work. My mindset was just like that of being in the academy – I could teach my body to do anything with the right technique and the right number of reps. I would teach my body how to adapt and thrive despite fragmented sleep patterns. I even bought an Oura ring and started tracking my sleep religiously.
I followed the process I learned at the retreat. I tracked my caffeine intake, bedtimes, how refreshed I felt, and the number of calls I went on. After 30 days, the data of my life was clear: I was sleeping better at home. And miraculously, I was starting to get real sleep in between calls at work.
The real marker of change was my ability to troubleshoot tough conversations with my husband. Instead of reacting, becoming triggered, or feeling upset, I smiled and just listened to him. The shock on his face brought tears to my eyes. I knew things were going to be OK when he told me with an embrace, “I’m so glad you learned how to sleep with your job.”
Thirty days of practice became 60, then 90, then over 120. My life began to change before my eyes.
Within months, I was tapping into my skills as a coach and educator. I started putting on little workshops for my fellow firefighters at busy firehouses. I warned them about the sleep debt and connected the dots as to why they felt so awful. I shared with them strategies they could use to be successful in sleeping at work in between calls. I showed them the process of addressing the body and the mind in the delicate balance of reaching a state prepared for sleep.
Shortly after that, I began taking clients, and these firefighters were eliminating insomnia, coming off sleep medications, and reclaiming their health and lives.
The renowned sleep researcher Dr. Matthew Walker says, “No aspect of our biology is left unscathed by sleep deprivation.” It’s not just true for our biology; it’s true for our entire life. But because we firefighters are no strangers to suffering, we think we can somehow rise above this reality.
The Brain Fog
Keeps us from being present while helping our kids with their school work
The Headaches
Have us snapping at our spouse to be quiet and tip-toe around us
The irritability
Has us shutting down moments of connection, our partners timing their conversations until we are in a better mood
The Apathetic Lethargy
Keeps us glued to the couch instead of memory-making adventures with the family
I wasn’t forced to find solutions or create changes until I faced the reality that the person I was becoming was not the person I wanted to show up for my family or my life.
Fortunately for firefighters everywhere, there are options. We have agency. We have the opportunity. We have resources to support the shifts we need to make.
We have to self-rescue our sleep and recover because no one is coming to save us.
The good news is that just putting a little effort towards our sleep will save us and our careers. It’ll also save the ones we care about most, and make us the kick-butt community servants we all want to be.
