Written by Carly Ring

From the moment I earned my uniform, I loved being a Primary Care Paramedic. I loved the identity and purpose it gave me, the privilege of helping people on their hardest days, and the ability to use my skills, training, and tools to make a meaningful difference. The job grounded me and shaped who I was. But like many in this profession, I carried the weight of countless calls, and one call in particular changed the entire course of my life. It pushed me into one of the darkest chapters I had ever experienced, leaving me questioning my future, my purpose, and who I was without the uniform that had defined me for so long.

Months later, a colleague shared his own therapy journey publicly, speaking about how that same call had affected him. His honesty broke through the isolation I was feeling, and when I reached out, he connected me with a therapist who had been a first responder herself. For the first time, I felt understood without needing to explain the job. That connection became a lifeline. Still, those early days were incredibly difficult. Being off work left me detached, directionless, and removed from an identity I loved. At home, I had a four-year-old who needed me, and while my family was supportive, I was fighting an internal battle that was hard to put into words. I couldn’t yet see what moving forward would look like.

It wasn’t until friend suggested that I consider becoming a psychotherapist. Taking that path meant returning to school full-time while working full-time, all while managing home life and my own healing. I didn’t know it then, but that decision saved me. School gave me structure, purpose, and an anchor during a time when everything felt uncertain. Around the same time, the gym became another steadying force, movement helped me regain a sense of control when I needed it most. And despite everything, I remained on the road, still responding to calls while completing my education. I studied anywhere I could: during offload delays, in hallways, in parking lots, and between calls. The workload was heavy, but it became my bridge back to meaning.

Through this journey, I saw clearly how many gaps existed in the support systems for first responders, military members, public safety personnel, healthcare workers, and their families. Waitlists were long, resources were limited, and too many people were struggling quietly. I knew I wanted to be part of the solution, and to this day I continue to advocate fiercely for our community, pushing for better access, better care, and better understanding.

Fast forward three years: I graduated last December and have been working as a clinician ever since. Six months ago, I opened my own practice dedicated exclusively to first responders, military members, public safety personnel, healthcare professionals, and their spouses. I offer rapid follow-up appointments after traumatic events, crisis intervention, peer support, critical incident debriefings, individual and group therapy, and educational workshops and training. While building my practice, I’ve remained at the clinic where my healing began, supported by leadership who believed in me, encouraged my growth, and trusted me with space to create something meaningful.

Today, I stand in a place I could not see during my darkest moments. I am still deeply connected to the world of first responders, just in a different role, one where I help others reclaim their sense of purpose, identity, and hope. And every day, I am reminded why I do this work: because no one should have to walk this path alone; because healing is possible; because purpose can be rebuilt; and because our community deserves strong advocacy, which I will continue to provide for as long as I’m able.