For over two decades, firefighting and EMS was my life. I started at 15 as a junior firefighter, driven by the desire to serve and protect my community.
Biddeford Fire Department was where I honed my skills, fought fires, and saved lives. It was where I became a paramedic, and eventually, a lieutenant. The firehouse was my second home, and the crew, my family. Yet, as I approached the 20-year mark in my career, I began to feel a change — not just in the department, but within myself.
The dynamics at the station had shifted. The camaraderie that once energized me started to feel strained. My job had always been challenging, but now, something was off. Despite achieving professional milestones and leading my team through countless emergencies, I felt like I was just going through the motions. The spark was fading, and I couldn’t figure out why.
When I had the opportunity to take a captain’s role in Kennebunk, I saw it as a chance to reset. A new department, a new challenge — maybe that’s what I needed. And while the transition was positive, part of the unease followed me. It wasn’t just about work; there was something deeper going on.
It was around this time that a former colleague recommended Warrior PATHH (Progressive & Alternative Training for Helping Heroes), a program designed specifically for first responders and veterans. The idea intrigued me — a week dedicated to self-reflection sounded like something I needed, but I was hesitant.
Like many in my line of work, I carried a lot of pride and a lot of shame. As a mental health clinician myself, I thought I should have had all the tools to manage my stress, but the truth was, I didn’t. And that admission was hard to swallow.
Eventually, I took the leap. I applied, spoke with Brandon, the program manager, and before I knew it, I was on my way to PATHH. I had no idea what to expect, and I certainly didn’t expect the profound impact it would have on my life.
The first night was awkward — meeting new people, sharing space, all while wondering if I truly belonged there. Most of the group were veterans, many with combat experience. I felt like an outsider, questioning whether my experiences as a firefighter/paramedic could compare to the trauma these men and women had faced. But as we shared our stories, it became clear that trauma doesn’t discriminate. We were all there because something in our lives wasn’t working, and we were all seeking a path to healing.
One of the most transformative parts of the program for me was the Inner Critic module. Despite my background in mental health, I had never fully grasped the power of self-compassion.
In my career, I’d always been my own harshest critic — constantly pushing myself to be better, stronger, more resilient. But that internal pressure had taken its toll. Through the Inner Critic module, I learned to recognize that voice, challenge it, and replace it with self-compassion. It’s a simple concept, but it has changed the way I approach both my work and personal life.
Another revelation came from the education around post-traumatic growth. As first responders, we’re trained to deal with trauma — to assess, respond, and move on. But what we’re not often taught is how trauma can lead to growth.
PATHH introduced me to the idea that, rather than trying to return to a pre-trauma version of ourselves (a place that doesn’t truly exist), we can use our experiences to evolve into something stronger and more resilient. This shift in perspective has been liberating, allowing me to view my career, and the challenges I’ve faced, as opportunities for growth rather than setbacks.
Returning home after PATHH, I knew things had to change. My relationship with my son is one area where I’ve seen the most growth. We’ve started a daily routine together — reading Stoic philosophy, practicing gratitude, and challenging our inner critics. It’s a time of connection that has brought us closer than ever. My wife and daughter have also noticed the change. I’m more present, more patient, and more engaged with my family.
At work, I’ve embraced authenticity. I used to think that being a good leader meant keeping my personal struggles hidden, always presenting a strong front. But I’ve learned that true leadership comes from being real — acknowledging when things are tough and allowing myself to be vulnerable with my crew. This openness has led to deeper connections and a stronger team dynamic.
One of the most memorable moments since returning was a behavioral health call I responded to. Instead of relying solely on protocol, I allowed myself to connect with the patient on a human level. The call went smoothly, and I could tell that my approach made a difference — not just for the patient, but for me as well. It reinforced that the lessons I learned at PATHH were not just for the retreat — they’re for life.
Looking back, I’m grateful for the nudge from my friend to attend PATHH. It wasn’t easy stepping away from my responsibilities at the firehouse, but prioritizing my mental health has made me a better leader, a better clinician, and most importantly, a better father and husband.
The journey isn’t over — self-compassion, post-traumatic growth, and authenticity are ongoing practices. But I’m committed to the path, and I’m excited to see where it leads.
Matt Leach is a captain with Kennebunk Fire Rescue.
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