I got asked this a lot when he first became a trooper:
What’s it like being married to a cop?
So first off, I think there’s a difference between someone who marries a LEO (law enforcement officer) and someone who marries someone who then becomes a LEO. Make sense?
Jeremy was not a LEO when we first got together (remember, we were in high school lol). When we were in school, he went to the local vocational school for environmental occupations. He looked into law enforcement, but you can’t get a job in that field until you’re 21, so he went environmental instead.
In 2001—so about a year after we got married (lol)—he went to an event with a Boy Scout troop he helped with. The story I was told was that there was a city cop, a sheriff, and a trooper there. After talking to them, he felt like the trooper was the most professional and squared away of the three… so he decided he was going to apply.
Yep. That’s it. No lifelong dream. That’s just how it happened.
When he applied for the patrol, he switched to working at Home Depot because the application process was… a lot of “jump now” moments.
He had to take a test. Then you wait for a letter telling you either your next step or that you’re out. You’d get to the point where you thought nothing was coming—and then a letter would show up saying you needed to be somewhere in a week.
No “are you available this day?”
It was: be here, this place, this time, or you’re out.
So yeah… lots of “jump now.”
Working at a bigger place like Home Depot made it easier than working with a small crew in trees where you couldn’t just leave.
There was the written test, a physical fitness test, a psych eval, a background check… and then eventually a letter saying you’d been accepted to the academy.
“Be here in two weeks with these items. You’ll be staying here for six months.”
Like… that was basically it in a nutshell.
When he left for the academy, we had no clue what we were in for.
Remember, this was before everyone had internet at home. You were fancy if you did—we were not fancy lol.
We knew he might come home on weekends. We didn’t know if that meant every weekend or some weekends. We didn’t know if he could call. This was before cell phones too.
We were completely in the dark.
So yeah… I lived alone.
Well—kind of. He did get me a kitten before he left lol.
It went like this:
J: “Hey babe, I met someone today.”
Me: “Oh, who?”
J: “A girl… and I brought her home.”
Me: “Um excuse me?”
And then he handed me a kitten—Max—so I wouldn’t be lonely.
So it was me, the dog, and the cat.
The first time he came home, they had buzzed his hair because it wasn’t cut right. That was… shocking lol.
Sometimes he came home Friday night, sometimes Saturday morning. It depended on what assignment he had that week.
But even when he was home, it wasn’t really “home.”
For the first few months, he had to handwrite all his notes from the week. Rewrite everything in ink.
So weekends were sleep, laundry, and work.
Eventually, his handwriting was approved, and he could type them. He was very much a hunt-and-peck typer, but he got better.
That was our life for six months.
Home on the weekends… but not really home.
And maybe a phone call on Wednesdays if their class earned it.
After he graduated, there’s more training… and then you’re a trooper.
So what’s it like?
First off, every agency, every location, every role is different. We’re not in Chicago, so I can’t speak to that life.
As a trooper, he doesn’t regularly go into houses or businesses, which helps a little. But he’s on the interstate a lot—walking alongside cars flying by at 70+ mph, paying no attention.
I do worry about his safety. But as a wife, you have to lean into the fact that he’s highly trained. Otherwise, you’ll drive yourself crazy.
I think the biggest thing is being alone.
Most full-time jobs are 40 hours a week—Monday through Friday, weekends and holidays off.
This is not that.
It’s 40+ hours. Because if you’re on a crash, you don’t get to say, “welp, time to go.” You stay until it’s done.
There are no guaranteed holidays. No guaranteed weekends.
You can’t just leave to pick up a sick kid. You can’t always take off for appointments. If they’re short-staffed, you’re working.
So a lot of times, you’re just two ships passing in the hallway.
Even on “off” days, work can still be there.
Court calls.
A sergeant calling.
Dispatch calling.
Or having to go to court on your day off.
Or waking up after three hours of sleep because you worked nights.
Schedules change too. Someone with more seniority transfers in, and suddenly your schedule changes—and now they’re missing everything.
This job isn’t just a job. It’s a lifestyle.
People react to it. They label you by it.
Jeremy always says—when you’re introduced somewhere, people don’t say, “this is Bob, he’s an accountant.” They say, “this is Bob, he’s a cop.”
Or you walk in and hear, “oh, the cops are here.”
Not many jobs follow you like that.
There’s also a level of fear.
The world is crazy, and you never know who you’ve dealt with. We’ve had to teach our kids to be more aware of their surroundings than most.
If Bob the accountant puts “I love calculators” on his car, no one cares.
If Bob the cop has a thin blue line sticker, people notice—and sometimes act on it.
We’ve had needles and beer cans thrown in our yard more than once.
We’ve had people knock on our door asking for directions.
And we’ve had people stop and ask, “where’s the pig that lives here?”
Bob the accountant doesn’t deal with that when someone’s taxes are wrong.
And yes—he chose this job. We both know that.
But when people ask what it’s like being married to a cop… this is what it is.
There are no real off days. The job is always there.
The mental side is hard too.
Most people might see a few dead bodies in their lifetime. Sometimes for them, that’s one crash.
Being called terrible names constantly. Wrestling people into cars. Seeing things you can’t unsee.
It takes a toll.
And that doesn’t stay at work. It comes home.
Going out can be tricky too.
They’re always watching everything—everyone.
There’s always the chance of running into someone they arrested or ticketed.
Even just going to dinner or a concert can feel like work.
And yes… they drive like they’re always on patrol 😂
Expired plates, no turn signals, 500 other infractions.
I find it funny now.
Sleep can be a struggle too.
Not for all of them, but for mine it is.
I don’t know if it’s a racing mind, work, missing things at home, or all of it—but he hasn’t slept through the night in 20+ years.
We’ve tried everything.
Retirees say it eventually gets better. We’ll see.
Being married to a trooper isn’t for the weak.
But it’s not all bad.
He’s been able to do some really amazing things.
He can retire earlier than most.
And this job has given us a good life.
I wouldn’t change it.
But it definitely has its ups and downs.
xoxo amber g
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