Fighting police PTSD: Why our force needs protecting

Post-traumatic stress disorder in police officers is still seen as a sign of weakness, writes Kylie Lang. So how are we protecting our protectors from the destructive epidemic that is rife on our front lines?

Imagine being so crippled by fear that you can’t take your children to the park because they will be snatched by a paedophile, or being unable to sleep because they will be stabbed to death in their beds by a random lunatic.

These are among the very real manifestations of a former police officer afflicted with PTSD.

But don’t think post-traumatic stress disorder, rife on the frontline of our emergency response services, stops with the sufferer.

It spreads like a cancer through the community, destroying families, disrupting workplaces and creating a massive burden on an already stretched health system.

Belinda Neil knows this only too well.

Her children are now young adults but their lives have been permanently impacted by the disorder she can never shake but has “learned to manage”.

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Neil was a police officer for 18 years, during which she investigated “horrific crime scenes” and worked as a negotiator, trying to persuade knife-wielding maniacs to drop their weapons.

“I had a man run at me with a knife and an eight-hour hostage situation where a woman was being stabbed by her ex-boyfriend — I will never forget her screams or the terror in her eyes,” she says.

Former NSW Police hostage negotiator and homicide investigator Belinda Neil has written a book on her experiences. Picture: News Corp

Like many who dedicate their lives to protecting our community, Neil kept on keeping on, until one day she couldn’t.

It was the birth of her son, now 20, and her daughter three years later that triggered her psychological demise.

“I was getting horrendous flash backs of children being murdered in their beds and thought mine would be next. I couldn’t do simple parenting things like take my kids to the park because I feared they’d be kidnapped, but the really sad thing, which still gets to me, is when my son was five and said, ‘mummy, don’t be angry all the time’.

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“My marriage broke down and I was medically unable to return to work.”

Neil and I are talking ahead of a national first to better tackle PTSD — the Fearless Conference on the Sunshine Coast that will bring together key experts and support groups.

When police cross the checkered tape, they’re not always equipped with the tools to cope with what they’re about to see. Picture: Luke Simmonds

She is one of the guest speakers, having channelled her energies since leaving the force in 2005 into raising awareness about trauma recovery and the importance of early intervention.

For every person afflicted with PTSD, there are at least two others also impacted, she says.

With an estimated one million Australians crippled by the disorder, that means at least three million are affected. And the larger the family, the bigger the reach.

Beyond Blue recently surveyed more than 21,000 first responders, including police, fire, ambulance and SES employees, and found one in three experienced extreme psychological distress, compared to one in eight other Australians.

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Those with at least 10 years in the job were six times more likely to have symptoms of PTSD than people with less than two years service.

Think of it this way: repeated exposure to trauma doesn’t build resilience; it destroys it.

What, then, are we doing to support those who sign up to keep our communities safe and protect lives?

Queensland’s Our People Matter campaign, launched last year, is a step in the right direction, but it is the quality of the resources available and the culture in which they’re delivered that really count.

PTSD is still viewed as a sign of weakness when it should be recognised for what it is — an avoidable casualty of a job that not many of us would ever want to take on given the risks to our personal safety and wellbeing.

There must be greater rigour around how support services are administered so that those who are traumatised not only feel comfortable about opening up but also that the person they open up to is appropriately qualified.

The stigma around PTSD must be stamped out, and this is where we in the community come in.

Neil, who like many sufferers contemplated suicide on several occasions, says loved ones and colleagues can be a great starting point.

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When those close by are well-informed about the disorder and can recognise the symptoms, even better. They include severe anxiety, mistrust, insomnia, nightmares, loss of interest in pleasurable activities, and emotional detachment.

“If we educate people about PTSD, we normalise it and that will mean people get help earlier,” says Neil, who uses “grounding tools” such as mindfulness, meditation and gentle exercise to manage her condition.

She says being a police officer is “the most dangerous profession physically and emotionally these days” and that “going up to an officer and saying thank you” can mean a lot.

I don’t doubt she’s correct.

Supporting our men and women in blue is not only a job for governments and medical professionals; it’s something we can all do, and the room for improvement is great.

fearlessconference.org.au

www.beyondblue.org.au

Kylie Lang is a Courier-Mail associate editor.

@kylie_lang