2023 was a tough year for me—at least, the first part of it was. It was the year that everything I thought I knew and had built was ripped away. Today, as I let go of the last piece of that life, I’m not sure how I feel, and that’s hard to admit. I’m struggling.
Let’s go back to the beginning of 2023. Life was good. I was at the top of my game, working full-time as a Field Officer at one department while also serving as a Reserve Police Officer at a smaller department. Law enforcement wasn’t just my job; it was my identity. The badge, the uniform, the camaraderie—I lived and breathed it. Everyone around me seemed to respect and appreciate the work I did, and to be honest, I couldn’t imagine myself doing anything else.
But life has a funny way of throwing curveballs when you least expect them. In February, my personal life took a hit—a major, traumatic event that completely blindsided me. It was like my world shifted overnight. I tried to push through, keep up appearances, and do my job like nothing had changed. But the cracks started to show. My performance at my full-time job began slipping, and it wasn’t long before my administration noticed. They saw what I was going through and tried to help. I’ll give them that—they did try.
Still, even with their support, I wasn’t performing like I used to. The mistakes started piling up. None of these mistakes were catastrophic; no laws were broken, and no one was hurt, but they were enough to give my superiors the ammunition they needed. And in June, they pulled the trigger. I was terminated.
I’ve talked about this before, but that moment felt like the end. The job that had defined me, the career that had been my life, was taken from me. That was my second traumatic event of the year. I may have still been alive, but it felt like I had died. Losing that job felt like losing myself.
But I held on in the only way I knew how. I kept my part-time role at the smaller department. That helped, at least a little. It gave me some purpose, something to cling to in the aftermath of my termination. But let me tell you, it wasn’t the same. There’s a difference between doing a job you love full-time and trying to make do with scraps of it in a part-time role. I tried my best to stay engaged, to keep what little bit of myself I had left.
In the meantime, I found a new full-time job in corrections. It’s a good job, but it doesn’t offer much time or flexibility, and as time went on, it became harder and harder to balance both roles. I held on to the part-time position as long as I could, even when I knew it was becoming impossible.
And that brings me to today. Today, I’m turning in my badge and gear for that part-time job—the last remnant of the life I used to have. The last piece of my old identity is about to be gone for good. And honestly? I don’t have a roadmap for this moment. I don’t have the usual advice I’d give others about overcoming adversity or bouncing back after a loss. All I have right now is the raw reality that I’m struggling.
Most of the time, when I talk about loss or change, I’m quick to offer solutions to provide a way out. But today, I’m sitting in the discomfort. I’m acknowledging that I’m not okay with this. Letting go of this last piece of my life is harder than I thought it would be, and I don’t have any quick fixes or easy answers. It feels like I’m closing the door on a part of myself that I’ll never get back.
There’s a part of me that wants to be strong, to rise above, to say, “This is just another challenge, and I’ll get through it like I always do.” And I know, on some level, that’s true. I’ve been through tough times before. Hell, I’ve been through hell before. But right now, in this moment, it feels like I’m in uncharted territory. I’m not just dealing with a job loss; I’m dealing with an identity loss. And that’s a different kind of grief.
The thing about law enforcement is that it becomes more than a career. It becomes part of who you are. It shapes the way you see the world, the way you interact with people, and the way you define your place in the universe. When you lose that, it’s not just about losing a paycheck or a routine; it’s about losing a sense of who you are. And that’s where I’m at right now. I’m grappling with the fact that the life I thought I’d have, the career I thought I’d spend my whole life in, is gone. And there’s no getting it back.
So what do I do now? I wish I had a clear answer. I wish I could wrap this up with some inspirational takeaway, but I can’t. All I can do is keep moving forward, one step at a time. I can keep showing up for the people who rely on me, even when I don’t have all the answers for myself. I can keep doing the work in my new job, even though it’s not the same. I can keep finding small ways to stay connected to the things that make me feel whole.
I’m not going to pretend like I have it all figured out. I don’t. But maybe that’s okay. Maybe the point isn’t to have all the answers right now. Maybe the point is to keep going, even when you don’t know where the road is leading.
As I turn in my badge today, I’m reminded of something I’ve said to others: resilience isn’t about never feeling pain or loss. It’s about continuing to move forward, even when you’re carrying that pain with you. It’s about showing up, day after day, even when everything inside you wants to stop.
I’ll figure this out eventually. I always do. But for now, I’m just going to let myself feel the weight of this moment. I’m going to acknowledge that this is hard, and I’m going to give myself the space to grieve the life I’ve lost. And in time, I’ll find my way forward. But today, I’m just going to take it one breath, one step, one moment at a time.
Stay disciplined. Stay resilient.
Jim Lunsford
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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.
