I’ve already shared how my journey into law enforcement came after my recovery from addiction. It wasn’t something that had always been part of me, but once I got into it, it became deeply ingrained in who I was. Law enforcement was more than just a job; it became a calling, a mission that I threw myself into with everything I had. The intensity of the work, the sense of purpose, and the adrenaline that came with it were addictive in their own way. But as I’ve also shared before, that chapter of my life came to a sudden halt when I lost my job. It was a loss that felt like a piece of my identity had been torn away. Now, I find myself working in corrections, a world that’s not unfamiliar to me because it’s where I first started before transitioning into law enforcement.
Working in corrections is not a bad experience at all. In fact, there are aspects of the job that I truly enjoy. I find fulfillment in my work; most of my coworkers are good people, and the environment, while challenging, is one that I’ve grown accustomed to. My role also provides me with opportunities to help and mentor the inmates, which is something I find deeply rewarding. There’s a certain satisfaction in knowing that I might be making a difference, even if it’s in small ways, in the lives of people who are often overlooked by society.
But here’s the thing: there’s a part of me, a significant part, that I keep locked away deep inside. It’s the part of me that was molded by my time in law enforcement, by the training, the experiences, and the mindset that came with being in that world. You see, my job in law enforcement wasn’t about pulling people over for traffic violations or responding to routine calls for service. My job was to hunt down wanted people. Day in and day out, that’s what I did. I was a people hunter, a tracker, someone who thrived in the chase, in the hunt. That was my reality, and it became a part of my identity.
That part of me that hunter is still there. But now, he’s caged, locked away because the job that called for those skills, that mindset, is gone. And I miss it. I miss the physical training that kept me sharp, the weapons training that made me feel prepared for anything. I miss the constant stress and pressure of tracking people down, of knowing that every day could bring a new challenge, a new hunt. I miss the intensity of those situations, the feeling of being on the edge, where every decision mattered. I even miss the threat of violence, the knowledge that at any moment, things could go south, and I might have to fight for my life. All of these things, as crazy as it might sound, are things that I miss. There is a monster inside of me that craves them.
At times, I forget that the monster is there. He sleeps, dormant, content to let me live this quieter, more subdued life. But there are moments when he stirs, when he wants to get out, to be unleashed, to do the job that I was trained to do. And that’s where the struggle comes in because that job is no more. The life I had as a people hunter is gone, and I don’t know how to reconcile that with the life I’m living now.
Working in corrections is a good job, and I do find fulfillment in it. But I don’t know if the monster inside me will let me stay there much longer. It’s a constant battle, one that I’m not sure how to win. There are days when I can keep him in check, focus on the positives of my current situation, and be content with my work. But there are other days when the pull of the past is too strong, when the memories of what I used to do, of who I used to be, are too powerful to ignore.
I don’t have all the answers. I don’t know what the future holds or how I’ll navigate this internal struggle. All I know is that I’m living in a kind of limbo, caught between the life I had and the life I have now. It’s not an easy place to be, and some days are harder than others. But I’m still here, still fighting to find a way forward, still trying to figure out what my next step should be.
For now, I take things one day at a time. I focus on the work in front of me, the inmates I can help, and the small victories that come with this job. I try to remind myself that this is a good life, even if it’s not the life I thought I would be living. And I hold on to the hope that eventually, I’ll find a way to make peace with the monster inside me, to find a balance between who I was and who I am now.
But until then, the struggle continues. It’s a part of me, just as much as the hunter is. And maybe, just maybe, that’s okay. Maybe the key isn’t in trying to banish the monster but in learning to live with him and channel that part of myself in a way that brings fulfillment and purpose to my life now. Only time will tell.
Stay disciplined. Stay resilient.
Jim Lunsford
Disclaimer:
At JimLunsford.com, I am committed to sharing authentic and meaningful content. To enhance the clarity and effectiveness of my writing, I utilize Artificial Intelligence (AI) as a tool in the content creation process. While AI assists in organizing and refining my ideas, every thought, insight, and story shared on this website is genuinely my own. The use of AI does not alter the authenticity of my work; rather, it helps me communicate more effectively with you, my audience. My goal remains to inspire, motivate, and connect, and AI is simply a tool that supports that mission.
