Conversations About Resilience: Michael Morse

Our new series highlights the stories and strategies of individuals who are on the front lines of mental health support from crises and adversity. Whether you’re a professional in the field, someone with lived experience, or an advocate for mental well-being, these conversations offer valuable insights into handling crisis situations with compassion, resilience, and effective intervention.

Our first conversation is with Michael Morse, a former fire captain and EMT who spent decades responding to emergencies on the streets of Providence, Rhode Island. His story is not one of heroics, but of humanity - of doubt, regret, second chances, and the quiet work of holding it together when the stakes are high and the cost is personal.

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How did you land in your profession? Was there a catalyst?

In the late '80s and early '90s, firefighting was highly competitive. You had to work hard to land one of those jobs. I took three or four entrance tests early but didn't do well enough to get hired. By the time I turned 29, I was starting to lose hope. I figured I'd manage a restaurant or build houses, but I wasn't sure what my path would be. But I decided to take one last test in Providence. I had a good day and finished at the top of the list, and that's how I managed to get hired at age 29. Once I got the job, I became fully immersed in it. I got assigned to the busy engine and ladder companies, which meant primarily firefighting, although we also responded to EMS calls. I spent 12 years doing frontline firefighting.

What was your role in emergency medical services (EMS)?

For the first part of my career, I was the "CPR guy" - handling emergency calls, driving the ambulance, and taking on a variety of frontline responsibilities. After about 12 years, I transitioned into the EMS division and became a full-time cardiac EMT. It's a role similar to a paramedic, and I stayed at that level for most of my career. It was a demanding but rewarding path.

Do you think the core of the firefighting job has changed over the last 25 years?

Honestly, not really. The job is still the job - crisis, life, death, response. That part hasn't changed. People joke about the younger generation, but today's 20- and 30-year-olds? They're just like we were.

What about the pressure outside the job - has that changed?

Absolutely. What has changed is society. Everything's more public now. Everyone has an opinion and a platform to share it - including me. I'm not judging anyone; it's just the reality. Social media, public scrutiny, and the pressure to perform under a spotlight - a new layer we didn't have. Today, EMTs and firefighters are under a microscope in ways I never was. That kind of pressure takes a toll. The job itself hasn't changed, but the response to it - how it's judged and sticks with you after the call - is different. It took me years to realize I wasn't as important as I thought. It got easier once I let go of that ego and focused on the work. That mindset helped me stay grounded.

What personal qualities or skills have helped you most in navigating crisis situations?                      

I think the biggest one is that I genuinely care. When things went wrong, I didn’t deflect or blame others - I owned my mistakes. I took them seriously, learned from them, and let people see that it mattered to me. That honesty and accountability helped me grow, and I believe it’s what earned me trust and allowed me to bounce back stronger.

It sounds like honesty and accountability helped you grow.                    

And forgiveness. The older guys - tough, seasoned veterans - didn’t let me off the hook easily. They were angry, and rightfully so. But once they saw that I cared, that I was trying to get better, they forgave me and that really helped me move forward. That second chance meant everything. Without it, I’m not sure where I’d be.

Can you share a moment in your career where you made a mistake under pressure and how you found the resilience to return from it?                 

There was a house fire that’s stuck with me. A man in a wheelchair was trapped on the second floor, and a baby was on the third. It was just the four of us, first on scene, with no backup for a few minutes. I was driving that day, and while my crew ran in to start rescues, I stayed back to get the truck into pump mode. That’s when it all hit - alarms, radio traffic, chaos - and I froze. I couldn’t get water out of the truck, and I had no idea why. Then I heard over the radio: “The man is trapped! I need water!” And I had nothing. To make it worse, I’d parked in the wrong spot and blocked access for incoming crews. The whole scene was a mess, and it was on me. Luckily, a firefighter who arrived after us saw what was going on, jumped in, fixed the issue, and we got the fire under control. But for weeks, I beat myself up.

I felt like I’d failed my crew - because in that moment, I had. But I didn’t let it define me. I owned it. I figured out what went wrong, learned from it, and built myself back up. I went on to have a 25-year career. That’s resilience - not just staying strong in the moment, but falling hard, getting up, and getting better.

In your line of work, how do you define resilience for yourself and the people you help?         

For me, resilience means taking things as they come. It’s about being able to walk away from something devastating, regroup, and show up for the next call without letting the weight of the last one break me.

Let's talk about resilience in practice. You witnessed people facing intense challenges. Can you share a moment when you saw someone else demonstrate resilience?                                     

One guy comes to mind right away: Don. He was a seasoned engine captain, volunteered in his hometown, then joined us full-time in Providence. He had this quiet command about him. No matter how chaotic the scene, Don had a way of grounding everyone. One night, we responded to a head-on collision caused by a wrong-way driver. It was total mayhem - two people were dead in one car, and there was a man in the other who might’ve still been breathing. Don wasn’t the official incident commander, but everyone naturally looked to him because he just had that presence.

He turned to me and said, “Mike, two people are in that car. We’re told they’re gone, but we need to be sure. Go check.” He knew his people - who could handle what - and for whatever reason, I was always the one he sent for those tough confirmations.

While I did that, Don kept everything moving - coordinating, directing, steady as ever. No panic, no confusion. There were probably 30 people on that scene, and he held it all together without raising his voice or needing a title. He brought calm into chaos - not by force, but by being exactly the person we all needed in that moment.

From your professional standpoint, what role do you think community or social support plays in fostering resilience?

I’ve always been a bit of a loner, and I’ll be honest: I disliked the formal debriefings. The CISDs - Critical Incident Stress Debriefings - they were a big deal, and they brought therapists in at all hours after a traumatic call. But for me, it never worked and I’d do anything I could to avoid it. What did help was being with the crew afterward. Back at the station, no pressure, just sitting in silence or talking about the Red Sox game. It wasn’t about processing trauma in some official circle - it was about being with people who were there, people who understood without needing to say much. So while community matters - it might not always in the ways people expect. For me, resilience came from shared experience, quiet understanding, and just being around others who got it. That’s what made the difference.

For me, resilience means taking things as they come. It’s about being able to walk away from something devastating, regroup, and show up for the next call without letting the weight of the last one break me.

How much resilience is innate, and how much can be developed as a skill?

I come from a big family: older sister, older brother, younger sister and I'm the third in the lineup. What's always struck me is how different we all are, even though we grew up in the same house. My oldest sister is incredibly resilient - but more because she's naturally strong-willed, opinionated, and a leader. My brother, the firstborn and the only boy for a while - we jokingly call him the baby Jesus. He had it easy. Me? I was third. I learned to stay out of the way and stay out of trouble. The two ahead of me were already keeping my parents busy. So when it comes to resilience, I think some come from where you fall in the mix - and how you learn to adapt. For me, it was learning to read the room early, stay steady, and handle things quietly. That shaped me.

How do you deal with the emotional weight of emergency response work?

You can't take it personally, even though you do. For those 10 minutes, I'm with a patient; I'm with them heart and soul. But they're gone once I leave and hand them off to triage or the hospital. That's the only way to survive in this line of work. I still remember faces and conversations, but I remember them because I want to, not because they haunt me. Compartmentalization is a defence mechanism - it protects you.

Have you seen regular citizens step up in ways that surprised you?

In emergency scenes, you see all kinds of reactions. One of the most surprising things is how often a child steps up. In Providence, where I worked, we served many Spanish-speaking families. I'm not fluent in Spanish, so at times, I had to rely on nonverbal communication to get by.

I'll never forget this one call - a grandmother was in full distress from a heart attack and severe congestive heart failure. The whole family panicked, speaking Spanish and understandably overwhelmed. But in the middle of all that, a 10-year-old kid calmly stepped forward and gave me a detailed account of what had happened. They explained that their grandmother had been sick for days and had taken a turn overnight. In the middle of the chaos, that child gave me precisely what I needed to assess the situation quickly and act. That moment showed just how capable and resilient people - especially kids - can be under pressure.

Have things changed in how we cope with the pressures of the job?

The job's the same. It's always been about responding to emergencies and helping people. What's changed is society. Now, everything's under a microscope. You're expected to be more than a firefighter - you're expected to share your life and be a personality. The pressure's heavier. We've got more resources, like counsellors and programs, but that's not always the answer. Sometimes, you need to sort it out as a group in the station, like we always have. Now, we've overcomplicated everything: more resources, less clarity.

If you want to be a "great" firefighter, go somewhere else. If you want to be a good firefighter and part of the team, welcome aboard. There's no room for greatness - because we're all great.

For someone looking to follow in your footsteps, what should they know before they take their first step?

If you're thinking about it, know the job's physically demanding. But outside of that, anyone can benefit.

I love that you do not see barriers to this job and believe people can step up.

In my academy in 1991, we had 64 people, including the first two women in New England's fire department. We had all kinds - arrogant, timid, bullies, the bullied. But we all got thrown into the mix and came out better people. Some of us still had flaws, but we were all much better than when we started. Here's the thing: If you want to be a "great" firefighter, go somewhere else. If you want to be a good firefighter and part of the team, welcome aboard. There's no room for greatness - because we're all great. If you're focused on standing out, trying to be the hero, you'll get yourself killed - and worse, you'll get others hurt trying to save you. What matters is being good at what you do, staying part of the team, and doing your job well. That's the key tothis job.

Rapid Fire

Q: What’s your go-to stress relief activity?

A: Playing hockey.

Q: If you weren’t in this profession, what would you be doing?

A: I’d probably be a restaurant manager - that’s what I used to do. I was a cook and a bartender.

Q: A book or podcast that inspired you recently?

A: I’ve been reading Harlan Coben mysteries lately.

Q: If you could have dinner with any historical figure, who would it be?

A: Bon Scott from AC/DC.

Q: What’s the best piece of advice you’ve ever received?

A: Someone once told me, “It’s casual.” Just, hey - relax, man. It’s casual.

Q: Your personal mantra or quote that helps you stay grounded?

A: “He done his damnest.”

Q: A skill you’ve always wanted to learn?

A: I’ve always wanted to learn how to play the guitar properly. I’ve been playing for 40 years - 12 strings, 6 strings, 12 frets - and I can play maybe 10 songs. I can’t figure it out for the life of me, but I try. I try every day, and I’ve definitely gotten better.

Q: What do you do to unwind?

A: I read, watch TV, and play guitar. I also play hockey with my brother - we skate around and shoot pucks at each other. 

📚 Explore Michael's full collection of books, including the acclaimed Rescuing Providence, Mr. Wilson Makes It Home, and EMS by Fire, here.