Latch Key Kids

Our adolescence looked like this:

We had two working parents, if they were even still together, and a front door key shoe-laced around our neck.  We'd let ourselves in the house after school, turn on MTV, and fend for ourselves until someone came home after dark with take out and bellowed, "Dinner!"  Meals were spent with the TV perched atop the table and scant, absent-minded conversations regarding a day nobody really cared about.  "How was your day Jimmy?"  The answer, "I'm so bored I could scream and I don't think anybody cares about me."

"That's nice dear."

We'd go through the motions, making nice until the nightly ritual was over, retreating to our tiny boxes and taking refuge with the flickering light of our surrogate while mom and dad self-medicated to remain numb to the monotony.  On my own, that's where I'm most comfortable, leave me alone with my stuff, it's easier than dealing with reality.  Annual family portraits did nothing to betray the lie we lived.  White shirts, blue jeans, and big smiles.  

If you blame your upbringing for your problems, then quit. Let go of it all.

Mom and dad, the center of our universe as latch key kids, left us alone and we had to face the possibility that they were never coming back.  This was not the worst thing that could happen to us; we had the run of the place and the possibilities were limited only by imagination.  Now, we've grown up and moved down the road, but still there is no support system.

This is your career.

When we let ourselves inside the door of fire service, we discover over time that the organization, our new, but nonetheless drunk custodians, has left us and now we are latch-key kids of the craft.  We are the forgotten generation, left to fend for ourselves with low bid equipment, no oversight, no training budget, vanishing pensions, and organizations that have all but walked away from everything that makes them what they are, the people.  As the organization plummets toward oblivion with catchy slogans, bloated mission statements, and new patches, we discover that they abandoned us and it p***** us off.  We can either sit around and blame everyone else for all of our problems or we can make something of ourselves.  We can take control.  We must find a new hope that can only be realized when you let go.  Salvation can only be achieved through surrender.  Give up, help isn't coming and nobody cares.  There is freedom in hitting bottom.  Give up on the notion that someone else will rescue you and accept your situation. 

"Excuses only work for those who make them.  If you don’t take ownership of your career it will pass you by and end up owning you."

Let go.  

Think I'm nuts?  Okay...

We must stop looking to external sources for validation, salvation, redemption, whatever you call it.  We have to stop blaming others for our shortcomings, wishing for some parental figure to validate who we are, and tell us it's going to be ok.  There is no hero, people don't like you, and maybe they hate you.  Who cares?  It won't be ok until you accept that.  We must find the inner strength to reject the establishment and find it in ourselves to go on.  We have to do it on our own.  

Give up on what you were led to believe.

This is your wakeup call. 

This whole thing is bigger than us, and quitting is not who we are.  Give up if you're blaming others.  Look around the house and see who's there with you.  There are a lot of brothers and sisters who share your burden.  We are the latch key kids of the fire service, with no direction or leadership.  You must surrender to the notion that no one can do it but you, but you must not surrender to apathy.  There is a lot of freedom in "The Latch Key FD."   Being abandoned can create self-reliance, the ability to adapt, and a desire to contribute needs within the family.  Nobody is home to tell you that you can't reach for greatness, nobody is home to crush your dreams.  

Anger is better than indifference.  If people are angry with you because of your passion for the job and family, then so be it.  Hate me for who I am, don't love me for who I'm not.  A corporate mentality has snuck in the back door of the fire service, eroding our family values and making things more valuable than people.  We have to bring family back.  We can't sit around and wait for it to happen.  We have to make our own opportunities.  The stakes are too high for us to give up on ourselves.  Stop asking why somebody isn't here to fix it and do it yourself.  

Celebrate your independence.

Pain and struggle are better than nothing at all.  This is your career, and its ending one day at a time.  Excuses only work for those who make them.  If you don’t take ownership of your career it will pass you by and end up owning you.

Read more from FULLY INVOLVED: www.mark-vonappen.blogspot.com