The Lie of Compartmentalization
The Lie of Compartmentalization: My Own 14-Year Ordeal
For years, I was what everyone would see, a high-functioning person. I was a hairdresser,and later a real estate agent. I was raising a family. But on the inside, I was living in a constant state of high alert. I was anxious all the time, and I didn’t know why. The sound of a siren would make my entire body lock up. I was just surviving, moment to moment, trying to keep the lid on this box of pain I was carrying around.
And this is the lie the leadership will tell our officers. They tell them to compartmentalize. They tell them to put the horrific things they see, the violence, the tragedy, into a box and leave it at the station when they go home. But it doesn’t work. It never works. That box always leaks. It leaks into their marriages, their parenting, their physical health. It shows up as anger, as drinking, as isolation.
My emotional masking story isn’t unique. I see it every single day in people. The mental health challenges in law enforcement are a direct result of this culture of suppression. We’re teaching people to disconnect from their own humanity as a survival skill, and then we act surprised when it destroys them. I know because I lived it. I know what it feels like to be disconnected from yourself, and I know the toll it takes. The effects of stress on police officers aren’t just a professional problem, they are a deeply human one.
Why the Stigma is Still So Powerful
So why don’t more officers get help? I hear this question all the time from people on the outside. They’ll point to a new program or a new hotline and wonder why things aren’t getting better. And I have to tell them, it’s because the fear is real. The fear of losing your gun, your badge, your promotion, or the respect of your peers is a powerful, powerful force.
I see headlines that say things like “stigma still keeps police from seeking mental health care study finds”, and I just have to shake my head. I don’t need a study to tell me this. I hear it in every room I speak in. I hear it in the hushed conversations after a presentation when an officer finally feels safe enough to tell me their story. They’re not afraid of the healing. They’re afraid of the system.
The primary barriers preventing police from seeking mental health care are a deeply ingrained cultural stigma and a legitimate fear of professional repercussions. The system teaches them that vulnerability is a weakness that can be used against them, potentially ending their career or their life. This culture of silence leads directly to an increase in police officer burn out and a devastatingly high cop divorce rate, because the trauma has to go somewhere. And when it can’t be processed in a healthy way, it destroys everything around it.
What Real Healing Looks Like
My own healing didn’t start until I found someone who understood trauma. Not just in a textbook way, but in a real, human way. I found a therapist who didn’t just listen to my story, but who taught me what was happening in my own nervous system. She gave me the tools to actually process the trauma that had been locked inside my body for 14 years. It wasn’t about just talking. It was about healing.
And that’s what’s missing from the current system. We offer surface-level solutions when the wound is deep. Real healing isn’t about checking a box or attending a mandatory mental health check. It’s about creating a culture where seeking help is seen as a sign of strength, not a career-ending liability. The importance of mental health in law enforcement isn’t just about preventing tragedy. It’s about building resiliency and hope. It’s about creating officers who are not only more effective at their jobs but are also present and healthy in their own lives, for their families
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When I wrote my book, The Other Side of the Gun, I had no idea it would open the door to so many conversations like this. But what I’ve learned is that a new system is possible. It’s a system built on these principles:
Prioritizing lived experience in support roles, so officers are talking to people who truly get it.
Making mental wellness training proactive and continuous, not just a reactive measure after a crisis.
Requiring leadership to openly support and participate in their own healing, setting the example from the top down.
Completely removing the professional penalties and fears associated with asking for help.
Frequently Asked Questions About Police Staff and Mental Health: Barriers and Recommendations for Improving Help-Seeking
What percentage of law enforcement officers suffer from PTSD?
don’t focus on the exact percentages because, from my lived experience, the numbers don’t matter as much as the individual person. What I can tell you is that in almost every room I speak to, the invisible wounds of trauma are present. The need is overwhelming, far greater than any official statistic can capture.
Why do cops have a high divorce rate?
From what I’ve seen, it comes down to the trauma they bring home. The job requires them to be hypervigilant and emotionally guarded, but they are never taught how to turn that off. That emotional armor, which protects them on the street, ends up isolating them from the people they love the most at home.
How does trauma impact first responders?
Trauma puts a first responder’s nervous system into a constant state of high alert. It’s a biological response to danger. Over time, living in that state of fight-or-flight without the tools to regulate it leads to exhaustion, anxiety, anger, and a whole host of physical and emotional problems. It changes how they see and experience the world.
Can you have PTSD and be a police officer?
I absolutely believe you can. Having PTSD doesn’t mean you’re broken. It means you’ve endured something profound. With the right tools and support, I have seen people heal and learn to manage their trauma. It’s not about being “cured” but about becoming resilient. A healed officer can be one of the most compassionate and effective officers there is.
The First Step is Admitting the System is Broken
The system is failing our officers. It’s failing their families. It’s built on an outdated idea of strength that is actively causing harm. But I have so much hope. I have hope because I know healing is possible. I am living proof of it. My story shows that you can go through the darkest moments and come out on the other side, not just surviving, but whole.
Change has to start with us. It starts with one person being brave enough to share their story. It starts with one leader creating a space where it’s safe to be human. That’s how we create a ripple effect. One person’s healing can give another person the courage to start their own journey. And that is how we change the entire culture. That is how we build a new system based on resiliency and hope.
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