PTSD Chronicles

13/12/2023

COMMUNITY UNDER FIRE

*** TRIGGER WARNING ***

The purpose of these posts is to raise awareness of my experiences with PTSD and what led to it. As such, I cover content, including my experiences with traumatic events, which individuals suffering from trauma symptoms may find triggering. If you wish to know what traumatic content this post contains, scroll to the bottom, and I'll leave keywords to help guide your decision to read on.

In the earliest phase of my career in the force, I found myself assigned to the town's premier community event. This gathering had a peculiar allure for the audacious souls who relished the thrill of ‘hoon type behaviour’. The event pumped life into our otherwise quiet town, attracting thousands and necessitating a substantial law enforcement presence. This included not only a police dog handler but also police horses.

I always held a fondness for the mounted units. Their towering stature on horseback alone commanded enough respect to mitigate many potential conflicts, freeing other officers for various duties. Then, of course, there was our police dog, whose mere presence discouraged any foolhardy attempts to challenge us. It was a comforting thought to know we had these added layers of security.

However, this particular weekend was destined to veer off the usual track of community revelry. Our peaceful town was about to be shaken by an incident that leaves a chill in any officer's spine: an active shooter.

Whether I was already on duty or just starting my shift when the alarm sounded remains blurry in my mind, but the adrenaline-fueled scramble to gear up is still vivid. As we bolted out of the station, we immediately cordoned off the surrounding streets. It was clear that a long-standing feud between local First Nation families had spiraled out of control. This feud, as ancient as their memory, occasionally flared up into serious violence and hospitalizations, and tonight it had escalated into the unthinkable.

In the quadrangle between their streets, a brutal brawl had been orchestrated between members of the feuding families. But as family 'A' gathered, they found themselves vastly outnumbered by family 'B'. In a chilling turn of events, a patriarch from family 'A' charged into his home and returned, shotgun in hand, firing indiscriminately into the crowd. The buckshot peppered the crowd, causing surprisingly minor injuries given the circumstances, but it was enough to catapult us into action.

As we arrived on a warm night, I was partnered with a rookie female constable, slight and slender like me, and a burlier constable who had five years of experience under his belt. For a volatile situation like this, our novice team was an imprudent choice on behalf of our supervisors.

By the time we set up our posts, our Officer in Charge had entered the maelstrom to glean some clarity amidst the chaos. Presumably, the gunfire had ceased by then, and the shooter was assumed to be acting in the desperate defence of his family. Soon after, the detectives entered the shooter's house and secured both the firearm and the offender. Our daunting task was to form a human barrier to shield the shooter's house and the detectives from the now swelling and agitated crowd from family 'B' which was now around 150 members.

I remember a particular annoyance at the sight of children among the drunken crowd. The night had grown late, yet these innocent faces were still part of the ugly scene. It was maddening that parents hadn't spared their children from witnessing such an event.

As the alcohol flowed and the night wore on, tensions in the crowd rose. Whispers of overpowering us began to echo in the crowd, echoing my deepest fear: mob mentality. The idea of an uprising began to gain traction. I felt a wave of apprehension crash into me as the crowd inched closer. But the fear-induced pounding in my chest was soon drowned out by the thundering approach of mounted police units literally vibrating the ground beneath my feet. Their arrival sent the crowd scattering, restoring temporary order.

It wasn't long, however, before the crowd turned their aggression towards the horse-mounted officers. Accusations of endangering their children were hurled at us, but I bit back my response that they were the ones who had put their own children in danger. As the mob advanced threateningly, the dog handler's car skidded around a corner, creating a dramatic spectacle. He and his dog charged at the mob, providing much-needed relief for the mounted unit.

Despite the venomous cries aimed at us, we held our ground, the combined efforts of the mounted unit, the dog handler, and our team keeping the mob at bay. Reinforcements arrived and a tactical arrest team was deployed. They pushed into the mob with riot shields, arresting the instigators, which gradually dispersed the crowd.

The whirlwind of the night finally dwindled into a quiet hum. However, the evening's real impact was felt when I returned home to my girlfriend, who had been anxiously waiting for news of my safety. She had been with friends, both police officers, who had tried to console her, explaining the unwritten rule in our line of work: no news is good news. It was a bitter reminder that our duty to protect often left our loved ones in a cloud of worry.


Note: This passage contains content related to traumatic experiences, such as active armed offenders and aggressive group violence.

13/12/2023

EVERYTHING THAT HAS A BEGINNING HAS AN END

Suicidal Thoughts, Police Su***de, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

TRIGGER WARNING The purpose of these posts is to raise awareness of my experiences with PTSD and what led to it. As such, I cover content, including my experiences with traumatic events, which individuals suffering from trauma symptoms may find triggering. If you wish to know what traumatic content this post contains, scroll to the bottom, and I'll leave keywords to help guide your decision to read on.

(The following is the narrative from my memory of an incident that happened many years ago. I doubt it happened quite as described, as I have recounted the narrative from the explanations of others. The gist of the narrative is accurate and is how it was internalized by me. I apologize to those involved if there are aspects that are incorrect.)

Something I learned early on was that policing has a camaraderie like the military. If you have not experienced it, imagine one of the closest relationships you have and the connection you feel toward that person, then amplify it. It is developed through joint suffering and bonds people together. Both parties truly understand the experiences of the other because of that shared experience. It has established some of the closest friendships I have, so when one ends or comes close to an end, it hits harder than most other critical incidents we attend. In addition to this, while emergency services have a highly developed skill at compartmentalizing our emotions, incidents involving our personal life often interfere with that coping mechanism. I take my hat off to the attending officers who held themselves together through this matter.

Shortly after I completed my probation, I secured an acting position in a neighbouring 2-man station to assist while their officer in charge was on leave. I was there for four weeks as the second man, the junior officer. While there, the acting supervisor pulled me aside with some news. He told me that one of the female staff members at my own station had failed to turn up for work. He said that they had tried calling her, but she didn’t answer. Staff from the office went to her house to check on her but she wouldn’t answer the door. The team walked around the side of the house, and while doing so, saw her through the window.

She was unconscious. The team was unable to wake her, so they smashed the window to gain access. It appeared she had attempted to take her own life. She had taken prescription medication and alcohol. The team took her to the hospital where the medical staff managed to save her life. They were told that if they had been much later, she would have likely died.

At the time, I remember being shocked but not upset, not scared for her or pained that her suffering had been unnoticed by friends. At the same time and experiencing this unattached response, I felt a self-hate brewing inside for such a cold emotional response. At the time, I didn’t know that my response is the body's way of protecting the mind and allowing me to continue functioning. It's compartmentalization of emotions, often an unconscious process, which can be a powerful protective factor for people experiencing trauma. However, it can also lead to later emotional distress and an overt presentation of trauma symptoms. Because of my physical distance from the officer and a bit of disbelief at the circumstance, I was in autopilot.

My supervisor released me early from work, and I returned home to tell my wife. I knew that would be difficult. My wife is far more sensitive than me and would take the news hard. Sure enough when I got home, I told her and she broke down. Still, nothing from me.

Several months later, my wife and I were driving down the highway. Out of nowhere, I broke down into tears. Uncontrollable crying. This terrified my wife as she had no idea what had happened. She started crying, likely from fear and empathy. She asked me what was wrong, but I wouldn't tell her. Until that point, I could probably count on my hands the number of times I had cried, and I saw it as a weakness. I was embarrassed and felt vulnerable. To this day, I haven't explained the cause of that incident, though I don’t doubt she knows.

One last thing needs to be said: Until recently, I didn’t understand suicidal thoughts, let alone an attempt on one’s life. I used to think that su***de was a stupid and weak step when something happens in life that someone doesn’t like. This couldn’t be further from the truth. Su***de is the last option that people can see. It is the last straw after ongoing suffering, whether physical, psychological, or emotional, when one can't see a way out and just needs the pain to stop. I find the most accurate metaphor is to imagine a prisoner of war being tortured for months on end. If that person wished for death, he wouldn’t be considered psychotic or weak. Their wish for death is only to end the pain.

I have so much respect and empathy for the officer and others experiencing such pain. All that can be said is that everything that has a beginning has an end. The pain will pass. Hold on and find the right support from the medical profession.

Note: This passage contains content related to traumatic experiences, such as suicidal behaviour and emotional distress.

13/12/2023

THE FIRST REAL TRAUMA AS A PROBATIONARY POLICE OFFICER

*** TRIGGER WARNING ***
The purpose of these blog posts is to raise awareness of our experiences with PTSD and what led to it. As such, I cover content including my experiences with traumatic events which individuals with PTSD may find triggering. If you wish to know what traumatic content this post contains, scroll to the bottom and I'll leave keywords to help guide your decision to read on.

Police attend many deaths. We refer to them as referred to as ‘Sudden Deaths’. Police are the representatives of the Coroner’s office and are therefore responsible for compiling and investigating the death of deceased persons. They are also responsible for preparing a report to the Coroner (local magistrate) on all the circumstances of the death and the deceased's life history.

Following the plane crash in 2009, I attended my second sudden death. If you can believe me, it was more traumatic than the plane crash. I, a 20-year-old probationary constable, attended the job at night with a First Class Constable and a Sergeant (the line manager/supervisor).

We had received a call from neighbours that a bad smell was coming from the attend address. For police, this is the tell-tale sign that we would be attended to a death… and not a fresh death. We arrived in the evening near dark. After knocking on the front door and not receiving an answer, We walked around the house looking for a way in. We smelt the particular smell of human decomposition. Nothing smells quite like decomposing human flesh. Rotting pork would be the closest. A very well-known smell for police.

There were hundreds of flies inside the house. All windows and doors were locked. The sergeant kicked in the rear door and as he did all three of us go hit with the smell of the body. It was like a physical punch in the face. We were conscious of the fact that we had recently had a week of 40-degree weather and the body was in a sealed house. This generally meant that there would be some level of decomposition which in turn made for difficult working conditions and a difficult body to handle.

We had decided to enter the house and open all the doors and windows to air the house out and try to locate the body in the process. The sergeant went first. He took a deep breath and rushed into the house, turning right as he entered the house and searching for the front door. He unlocked the door, turned the handle and tried to open it. Unfortunately, as he was running out of breath, he realised that the door was jammed and wouldn’t open. He tried a few times to shoulder it open before kicking it open. He rushed back outside, gasping for air. Neither of them had seen the body.

The first-class constable spoke up, “My turn.” He entered the house, turned right again and rushed to as many windows as he could, opening them all up. He rushed back outside and gasped. The sergeant spoke up and told me that I didn’t have to go in. I knew it was because I was so young and junior but to reinforce that I was the same as them I replied, “No, we're a team. I’ll do my part.”

When the other two entered the house, they had gone right so I decided to go left. I psyched myself up, took a deep breath and rushed in the door. As I entered and ran left I realised that there was only one room to the left. The toilet. I saw a large body lying face down like he had fallen forward while sitting on the toilet. It shocked me and I skidded to a stop like an animated looney toons character.

It took me about three seconds to realise that I was sliding on the floor instead of stopping still. My legs split on the slippery surface and my body bent forward in a ‘mission impossible’ way. My face was so close to the floor and I could smell decomposition. Then all of a sudden I heard ‘Zzzzzzzzzzzzz’… followed by a quiet splat as a fly landed on my face with wet, sticky feet. I knew right away that the fly splat was the decomposition liquid covering the floor. The same liquid I had slid in and was trying my hardest not to fall face-first into. I swallowed back vomit and managed to stand back up again. I carefully turned around and left the house, gasping for fresh air. I explained that I had found the body. We waited about 10 minutes, hoping that the air would flush some of the smell out of the house. It didn’t.

When we ended up going back into the house we started the coronial procedures, photographing the scene and body. The body was laying face down in the small toilet room. There was a small shelf above the body and it appeared that as the man fell forward, he had knocked it causing a basket of toilet rolls to fall over his head. It didn’t occur to us at the time, but that created a dark, moist environment. The relevance of that cannot be understated.

What it did was create the perfect environment for flies to lay eggs. We removed the toilet paper and were greeted by a skull. No flesh on his head, just a skull. Unusually, his body wasn’t anywhere near as decomposed so it was still covered with tissue. A skull but a normal body is an unusual thing to witness and despite hundreds of sudden deaths, I have never come across it since.

Ordinarily, we would strip the body of clothing and jewellery but due to the decomposition, we left him dressed. We helped the government contractors (funeral directors contracted to remove and handle dead bodies) move the body from the house to their van. After finishing at the house we went back to the station to start the paperwork, a process that takes hours. We were on overtime at that point so had de-kitted our equipment.

The boss of the station found out about the job. He walked into the station in civilian clothes and a carton of beer, dropping it off on a nearby table. ‘Take your time with the paperwork boys’ he’d told us. We spent the next few hours plodding through the paperwork, drinking, and ‘de-briefing’ about the critical incident we had just attended. First responders often struggle to talk about their emotional reactions to traumatic experiences because it's our responsibility to handle them. To manage them and protect the community. Talking about tough jobs over a few drinks is common among first responders as it acts as a social lubricant. This process helps de-compartmentalise our emotions and process the trauma of the incident.

Policing no longer supports this act, regardless of how critical it is to our emotional and mental health. It helps prevent burnout and counteracts post-traumatic stress reactions. During the job I, as we all do, compartmentalised my emotions. This lets us function during situations that most people would fold under. A few days later the trauma came rushing back and crushed me. I fell apart crying. It was such a shock to the system and was the most confronting experience I’d had in my life to that point. Unfortunately, as the years progressed, I would process the emotional side to a lesser extent every time, thinking that it didn’t bother me anymore. It can only be done for so long.

Traumatic Content: Sudden Death / Emotional Distress / Human Decomposition

13/12/2023

Many people I speak to are strongly against medication, concerned that they shouldn’t be putting chemicals in their body.

Something to remember is that more often than not, the chemicals you’re putting in your body are actually chemicals made naturally within your body.

Another thing to remember is that the purpose of these medications is to stabilise a chemical imbalance within the body. It is necessary to create an equilibrium that is natural to the ‘normal’ body.

Beating treated for severe Complex PTSD and severe treatment resistant major depressive disorder, means that I take about 10 different medications every day. Three days ago, I ran out of just one of the medications and forgot to refill the script for three days. Because of this, my depression. Are back with a vengeance. I became suicidal, had negative thought patterns and cause significant injuries to my body through self-harm. I am back on the medication and psychologically feeling so much better. That said, I am still in significant pain from the self-harm which, while it was necessary at the time to control significant emotional distress, no longer feels like it was worth it.

If your doctor recommends taking medication, do yourself and your family a favour and take them. AND, when you start to feel better, that means the meds are doing their job. Don’t stop taking them without guidance from your doctor. It can cause similar issues to what I experienced.

Keep yourself safe and don’t forget, lifeline is a call away (ph: 13 11 14 or txt: 0477 131 114).

13/12/2023

A FLIGHT TO REMEMBER

*** TRIGGER WARNING ***
The purpose of these blog posts is to raise awareness of our experiences with PTSD. As such, I cover content including my experiences with traumatic events which individuals with PTSD may find triggering. If you wish to know what traumatic content this post contains, scroll to the bottom and I'll leave keywords to help guide your decision to read on.

In the previous post, I explained that PTSD in the military and first responders occurs differently than in the majority of the civilian community. Civilians generally develop PTSD after experiencing a single traumatic event. We however develop PTSD after a build-up of repeated trauma. To function in our role, we develop a system of compartmentalising our emotions. This essentially means that we can separate our emotions from our functional mind and allows us to operate from a clinical perspective. It's what allows us to run toward the man with a gun, or handle a heinous child s*x assault without falling apart. So to appreciate what brought me to where I am we need to take a walk down memory lane…

I joined the police in August 2008. Six months later I became a probationary constable with all the power and responsibilities of any other police officer, with one exception... I was a scrawny 22-year-old who still got asked for ID when I entered a pub (including when I was in uniform; I can laugh about it now). I was nervous, naive, and a relatively introverted individual struggling to learn on the job how to talk to people. I hadn't learned to compartmentalise my emotions, so I became angry when I was called names and became upset when I saw traumatic things.

Within months of arriving, I was dispatched to my first fatality. A job that I was only involved in because I was in a small country town. In the city, there are specialists who deal with this kind of fatality. This was a plane crash. I was working with a First Class Constable who took point on the job. I was essentially her tail. When we arrived, the local volunteer firefighters were already on the scene and had already confirmed the pilot deceased; “the injuries were incompatible with life”. I felt for the fireies because they were volunteers. I could see the effect of the job on their faces. At least we were being paid.

When I looked around the scene I noticed the plane was a small crop duster. I also saw a tree in the distance with a chunk of the canopy missing. Investigations identified that the pilot (a very experienced pilot) had misjudged the flight path and collided with the tree causing the plane to crash. From its first ground strike to its resting location was about 100 metres making for a very large scene. We had walked through the scene and up to the aircraft to get an appreciation of the circumstances before returning to the nearby road. Then we learned that the safety of the chemicals in the plane was believed to be toxic, a real comfort to us who had just walked through a paddock full of it and now had drenched trousers. About 45 minutes later, after identifying the chemical to be ‘not too toxic’ (but being told to make sure we showered when we got home), we continued the job.

After hours of photographs, video walk-throughs, and phone calls to external organisations and invested parties, it was time to remove the pilot from the wreckage. The fireies arranged that. The injuries were incompatible with life. The engine of the plane was now occupying the pilot's seat and cabin. I had essentially entered a state of shock at this point, still working but on autopilot. The next step was to contact the wife of the pilot. She was traumatised and met us at the funeral director.

Now, pausing the story there for a minute, it's time to introduce a new concept… Vicarious Trauma (I’ll cover this, more in a later post). Vicarious trauma can occur for anyone but is a particular occupational risk for first responders and those working in victim support services. It can occur through experiences such as listening to victims recount their victimisation; looking at videos of exploited children; reviewing case files; hearing about or responding to the aftermath of violence and observing traumatic reactions from a deceased’s loved ones.

Back to the story. That is exactly what occurred when the pilot's wife arrived at the funeral director's. She was understandably distraught and this is when the shock subsided. She wanted to see the deceased and hold his hand. But, due to the extent of the injuries, we decided viewing his body was inappropriate and would likely cause further trauma to her. She held his hand and collapsed into tears, sobbing while we stood by. I clenched my teeth and looked away to hold back my own empathetic tears.

After everything was done the First Class Constable and I returned to the station to complete the many hours of paperwork. The coronial investigation took me nine months to prepare. This raises risks of further vicarious trauma with each witness statement and photo reviewed. Multiple times during the investigation we were contacted to recover further body parts that had been found in the paddock, including teeth.

I believe this to be one of the more significant jobs I have dealt with, and when we consider I was still an innocent, naive 22-year-old, the effect this fatality had on me can’t be understated. After returning home that first night I was in tears, crying in the toilet so I didn’t humiliate myself in front of my fiancé.

Now let me make something very clear; this was nothing to be humiliated about. Crying after an experience such as this is a normal reaction to an abnormal experience’ (you’ll hear that phrase a lot in these posts). The PTSD symptoms I experience now, and over the years, are the same. Normal reactions to abnormal experiences. They are nothing to be embarrassed about, and above all do not mean I am weak, nor do they make anyone else weak. They also don’t mean I can no longer do my job. I have had two instances of PTSD symptoms that interfered with my ability to function fully. Between them, I returned to fully functional frontline officer with no restrictions or issues.

As always if you feel unsafe or are experiencing thoughts of self-harm, remember to seek help. The emergency department can help which may include administering medication, or there is always a su***de call-back service such as Life Line (Call: 131114 SMS: 0477131114). PTSD can get better and it’s not worth losing your life over. Be safe and take it easy.

Traumatic Content: Plane Crash / Catastrophic injuries / Emotional Distress

13/12/2023

POST TRAUMATIC STRESS DISORDER (PTSD)

PTSD & WHAT IS IT

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is a debilitating and long-term mental health illness that develops as a result of exposure to trauma. It can develop after a single exposure or in the case of military personnel and first responders, as a result of repeat exposures. Experiences that once seemed insignificant or part of a regular routine can trigger an attack. This is often scary and confusing.

As a police officer of 15 years, I have attended countless deaths, murders, violent domestics, fatal traffic crashes, a plane crash and several baby deaths. while these events were occasionally confronting, I did what we all did. Compartmentalise my emotions, electing instead to proceed from a very clinical and analytical mindset. While this may not be particularly healthy, it is necessary to function within the emergency services. Remember, when most people freeze or flee in the face of gunshots, police run toward the fire, an emotionless act.

When my PTSD hit, I became angry that I was scared of things much less dangerous and confronting than jobs I had attended previously. I didn't understand how I could love my job, the adrenaline, and the risk while at the same time being fearful of it. My symptoms developed into a paralysing and unreasonable fear that I wasn't safe. These experiences culminated into a person who, on multiple occasions, would be found rocking back and forth with my eyes squeezed tight and hands clasped over my ears. If there is a symptom of PTSD, I've probably had it.

The symptoms vary widely but generally involve anxiety (both generalised and extreme), nightmares and sleep disturbances, hyper-vigilance (being constantly on guard for danger), irritability, aggression, shame and self-destructive behaviours. In my case, this was substance abuse and during the worst of it, self-harm. These behaviours are nothing to be ashamed of. They are a symptom of a serious mental health condition that requires medical intervention to treat. People often forget this because it can present with no visual or physiological injuries.

Treatment generally involves medication to reduce the symptoms, and psychotherapy to address the underlying trauma. Many people fear that they will be required to re-live the trauma with a psychologist but this isn't necessarily the case. There are many therapy options available and you can be involved in the decision of which you wish to proceed with. A common therapy that doesn't require re-living the experience (but does cause some distress) is 'Eye Movement Desensitisation and Reprocessing'. Anyone who has had this would agree it is a magic treatment that causes the emotion associated with trauma to cease very quickly (I'll cover this more in a later post).

Well, that's quite a bit of information so I won't raise anything else other than to say that there are effective treatments for PTSD that can fully address the symptoms. You can go back to having a happy life and loving your family. All it takes is the first step (and possibly the hardest)... Asking for help.

If you feel unsafe or are experiencing thoughts of self-harm, remember to seek help. The emergency department can help which may include administering medication, or there is always a su***de call-back service such as Life Line (Call: 131114 SMS: 0477131114).
Be safe and take it easy.

13/12/2023

Apologies people, I’ve been quiet for a while. PTSD flare up but seems to be leveling out so I’ll continue posting.

I’ll be uploading to FB instead of using the website because the site is 3-400 per year and I can’t justify it for a hobby.

First few uploads will be back-capturing the website posts so bear with me.

06/01/2023

When I was struggling and ready to stop treatment, my wife did the modern day equivalent of a ‘mixed tape’.

Called ‘Onwards and Upwards’. Still gradually adding to it but check it out.

Playlist · 23 Songs