Co-Founder & CEO
Charlotte Hayes
Co-Founder and CEO of REgen Resilience Consulting, is a former paramedic and a first responder spouse. She has worked in diverse fields, all designed to help her better serve community and bridge service gaps. Among her achievements as a Paramedic, Birth Doula and Educator, and Yoga Teacher, Charlie has worked in Wildfire as a dispatcher and has firefighting experience through her volunteer work. Charlie is currently completing her Masters in Counselling Psychology with a focus on couples and family systems. She has seen first-hand the lack of mental health education and support in first responder fields, and recognizes tremendous opportunity to change the narrative.
My name is Charlotte Hayes, though most know me as Charlie.
I’m an ex-first responder and have supported loved ones throughout their careers on the frontline. I believe helping people is my calling, and this fate was solidified long before I ever put on a uniform. I have an affinity for serving my community and creating meaningful connections. This is true for every educational, professional, and personal endeavor I take on. I am a licensed Paramedic, a certified trauma-informed Yoga Teacher, as well as Birth Doula. I hold a BA in Modern Languages and am currently completing a Masters in Counselling Psychology, which will continue to deepen my work and offerings. If you haven’t put it together, I love being a listening ear and being the hands-on help. Problem solving and conflict resolution is my jam. Adventure also speaks to my soul. It’s why I said yes to a job as a Wildfire Dispatcher in the far North and stayed there for what would be my first (and last) post as a Paramedic. Chasing the excitement and being a care provider were two parts of my identity that I idealized, and this got tricky.
Enter a paramedic education that turned into a passion. A passion that I gave my everything to- including my mental health. That story will come later. My background is in customer service, project coordination, curriculum building, and leadership. But I was truly passionate about medicine and psychology. My paramedicine education was thorough and by graduation, I was well armed with the knowledge and tailored skills to be a competent and confident paramedic in the field. No one ever prepared me for how to take care of my mental health or what I would need to stay in this career for the long haul. The 2-year program allotted a half day on mental health. That. Was. It. Arguably, there were more pressing topics to cover in this rigorous program that was pumping out paramedics into the workforce. I was lucky enough to have thoughtful and dedicated instructors who looked beyond the curriculum to fill the gaps. I still think back on this one mental health seminar.
It struck me as odd that we made a collage board of tools we could use when times got tough on the job, but we really had no idea what it was like out there. Sarcastically, many of my classmates included cutouts of nail polish or a person lounging on the beach. Courses did put a good amount of emphasis on physical health and proper lifting techniques, but when it came to psychological care, it was out of sight out of mind. This stayed true as I engaged with different companies and talked to coworkers who were life-long paramedics. I had to learn to accept the eventuality of being broken. It was part of the cape. As a matter of fact, on my husband's first day, an on-duty paramedic said “run while you still can otherwise you’ll find yourself in an early grave.” Knowing there is a small percentage that make it from recruit to retirement in paramedicine, we had no doubt we would beat those odds. We were different.
On my first day of OJT,
I was tagged as “a black cloud”. This meant that I was an absolute sh*t magnet for bad calls. When I took my first job, my name on the roster became synonymous with knowing it was going to be a wild tour. But I was a proud PCP: my uniform was always in mint condition, my boots shined, my ambulance was the envy of the fleet. I figured “better me than another practitioner” because I was built to handle the stress, right? Working in the North meant that there were unlimited shifts to be worked. I lived and breathed the uniform, often working an average of 25 days of the month, being based out of remote housing, and being on call 24 hours a day by ground or flight. It was exhilarating and I was good at it! I was praised for my work ethic, for my drive to always take more shifts. And I honestly couldn’t get enough so I signed on with a second ambulance service… because you know, 5 days off a month was plenty.
My time off was spent volunteering with the local fire department or with my First Responder family. I was so deep in this work that I didn’t see the toll it was taking on me physically and mentally, or my relationships for that matter. I was surrounded by other broken First Responders and we relied on our dark humour to get through the shifts. This environment made it so hard to see our state was not normal. I hit a wall after a series of back to back (to back) calls I didn’t have time to process. The lack of sleep and poor coping mechanisms were failing me. I had no safety net. No resilience skills. So, begrudgingly, I went on stress leave. Now, I’m nothing special, but resources are scarce in the North and I knew my leave would make us one paramedic short and it would fall on my coworkers to pick up (my perceived) slack. I hated burdening them more than anything. Four days into my leave, I was called back to the line of duty to help evacuate our town from a threatening wildfire. I worked as a Paramedic for the first part of the chaos and then joined headquarters as a Dispatcher for our structural fire crews. I took my normal set of days off once the town was secure, and you guessed it… I returned to work without blinking an eye. It was the perfect storm.
Fast forward to now.
We have settled into our Nova Scotia life, establishing our roots and reflecting on experiences. I needed a break from the frontlines when we left the North, but I never imagined that a brisk September day in 2019 would be the last time I took off my uniform and handed over my radio to the oncoming crew. I took the time to work on myself, find equilibrium, and reflect on what went wrong. What could have kept me in this job I loved so much? Preparation is key! In comes the creation of REgen Resilience Consulting and a way to formally help Frontline workers and their support systems have meaningful lives. Throughout my journey, I have often been a supporting act for coworkers and their families, as well as those in my close circles. I have a knack for finding solutions and bringing a fresh perspective to a problem. As much as I aim to help professionals find longevity in what they love to do, I am also equipped with the skills and education to facilitate a graceful transition out of the uniform and reconstruct the identity piece.
If you’ve made it this far, thank you for hearing my story and taking what you need from it.
I am privileged to work with Frontline workers and their families, and if our methods speak to you, it would be an honor to work with you in whatever capacity you need. Let my story be the cautionary tale that pushes you to find balance and build resilience now. You are enough and you are worthy of support.
