Trauma Dump: Why EMDR Is Basically a Laxative for Moral Injury

These days, my calendar is overflowing—and not with brunch dates or beachside relaxation. Instead, my hours have been gobbled up by building a peer support group (late into the evening hours), responding to critical incidents with my determined therapy pup, Hope, training said dog—who is far more motivated by treats than commands—and, oh yeah, publishing a book. Let’s just say “free time” is now a concept I admire from afar, like six-pack abs or matching socks (damn, Hope keeps taking them!)

But despite the chaos, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. The work is worth it. And thankfully, I’m not doing it solo. I’ve got an incredible partner who keeps me grounded, and a rock-solid team I can lean on. They remind me to breathe when I forget. They’ve also become experts at subtly checking if I’ve eaten anything besides coffee.

Still, even with all that support, I didn’t realize how much emotional weight I was dragging behind me—until I finally started unpacking it.

After a few powerful sessions of EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) and ASAP (Acute Stress Adaptive Protocol) therapy, I had what can only be described as an epic trauma dump (yes, like after a night of tacos and jelly beans). Not exactly spa-day glamorous, but deeply therapeutic. It was like taking off a backpack full of cinder blocks I didn’t know I was carrying. Suddenly, I felt clearer, lighter, and just... more me. The me that I lost when the badge was pinned on and I was told to go save the world.

This personal growth journey has mirrored what I’m seeing in our peer support work. The group has been embraced by the community in ways I couldn’t have imagined. But the flip side is sobering: our first responders are carrying massive, invisible loads. Behind the uniforms and the stoic faces are people haunted by what they’ve seen, done, or been forced to endure.

When I completed the ASAP training earlier this year, something clicked for me. I realized that my own moral injury had been quietly shaping my life for years. It was the root of so many of my struggles—the quiet driver behind my self-doubt and burnout.

So what exactly is moral injury?

It happens when we experience or participate in actions that go against our deepest values. It’s not fear-based like PTSD—it’s a collision between what you believe in and what reality forced you to do. It brings shame, guilt, anger, and sometimes a complete unraveling of your sense of self. And it doesn’t show up on an X-ray.

In my case, I worked for an agency where being a number seemed more important than being a human. Promotions often went to the loudest flatterers instead of the hardest workers. Integrity felt like a liability. The more I stood up for what I believed in, the more I was pushed aside. Over time, I stopped chasing the goals I once had. I stopped believing I had a future in policing—and worse, I stopped believing in myself. I was a broken man. The “system” had won the war and I was left picking up my scattered remains.

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It’s been three years since I stepped away from policing, and life now looks—and feels—completely different. I smile more. I sleep better. And while I carry deep empathy for those still trapped in toxic systems, I also feel relief. The truth is, moral injury isn’t just personal—it’s systemic. And if the system won’t change, we owe it to ourselves to heal anyway. That’s where EMDR comes in.

What is EMDR, really?

It’s a trauma therapy technique that helps the brain reprocess disturbing memories. You don’t forget what happened—you just stop reliving it on repeat. It turns emotionally charged memories into something less painful and more manageable. Yes, it’s strange. Yes, it’s science. And yes, it works.

For me, it was like untangling a giant emotional knot. With every session, I got back a little more clarity, a little more confidence, and a little more peace. The trauma didn’t disappear—it just stopped owning me.

If you’ve ever lost sleep over decisions you made—or the ones you couldn’t—you’re not broken. You’re human. And there is a path to healing, even if it starts with admitting that you need help.

Sometimes that path looks like therapy. Sometimes it looks like late-night writing sessions. And sometimes it looks like following a fluffy, cheese-motivated therapy dog named Hope into a brand-new chapter in life.

I’ve taken my moral injury dump… how about you? Don’t ignore the signs of a pending code brown! Stay safe, and watch over each other. -Dr. M