I recently participated in a roundtable discussion on best practices for responding to sexual assault and gender-based violence. Afterward, while speaking with a police officer from Washington State, he made a profound observation: the push for trauma-informed responses seems to include everyone except law enforcement. His comment stuck with me.
The concept of self-care is difficult for many first responders, including EMTs, firefighters, nurses and police officers. However, public support for EMTs, firefighters and nurses remains strong, while law enforcement often faces a different reality. The scrutiny and politicization of the profession, coupled with the psychological toll, make it uniquely challenging. My hope is not to elicit sympathy but to provide perspective on the difficulties officers face and encourage the same grace and understanding that other first responders receive.
Understanding the mental and emotional toll of the job
To understand why this grace is so critical, we must first acknowledge the mental and emotional toll the job takes on those behind the badge.
1. The mental toll of policing the worst society has to offer
Maintaining a positive outlook on society is nearly impossible when you spend years working in its darkest corners. This reality is amplified for officers working in high-crime urban environments. I spent only four years with the City of Atlanta Police Department, and it changed me forever. My friends who have remained in urban law enforcement for decades, I don’t know how they do it.
Day after day, officers respond to 20, 30, or even 40 emergency calls, encountering violence, abuse and human suffering at every turn. Then, they’re expected to transition seamlessly into everyday life — attending their child’s T-ball game or making small talk at social gatherings. That kind of emotional compartmentalization takes a toll.
2. The politicization of the profession
Few professions are as politicized as law enforcement. Imagine me, a die-hard Buffalo Bills fan, yelling at the television about which plays the team should run. Now imagine politicians — who have never walked a beat or responded to a violent crime — telling officers how to do their jobs.
Having worked in law enforcement in New York, I’ve seen firsthand how transactional politics make the job harder. The narrative is often dictated by political convenience rather than the realities of policing. Ask any retired or resigned officer why they left — rarely will they say it was because of criminals. More often, they leave because of politics.
3. The ever-changing standards and expectations
Unlike firefighters, whose job is relatively straightforward, policing constantly evolves based on shifting political and social climates. I was hired under the Clinton Crime Bill, part of a wave of officers sent into high-crime areas to “clean up” the streets. We were trained, deployed and expected to enforce laws related to drug possession, quality-of-life offenses and violent crime.
But over time, the public narrative changed. What was once praised as proactive policing became scrutinized as over-policing. Media coverage and political rhetoric began to amplify mistakes, often portraying officers as corrupt, violent or racist. I fully support holding bad officers accountable, but the broad-stroke vilification of an entire profession has made policing nearly impossible.
At the same time, we’ve shifted from a “zero-tolerance” approach to crime to a near laissez-faire attitude, where officers are expected to sit back and watch. The result? Many now operate in survival mode, simply hoping nothing goes wrong on their shift.
4. The inability to live a normal life
Years of hypervigilance and training fundamentally change a person. For 26 years, I couldn’t walk into a social setting and fully relax. Family events, graduations and weddings all became logistical challenges. Should I carry my firearm? If so, how do I conceal it? Ankle holster? Belly band?
And then there’s the social stigma. When meeting new people, many officers avoid mentioning their profession, knowing that a segment of society will immediately judge them. The solution for many? Minimize social interactions outside of work — hardly a recipe for good mental health.
5. The trauma of witnessing death, abuse and exploitation
I still remember my first dead body. Hundreds more have since blurred together. I’ve seen fallen officers, dead children, and the aftermath of unspeakable crimes. For a time, I was numb to it. But after having kids of my own, it began to affect me again.
One case in particular haunts me. A 16-year-old boy sent a picture of a rifle to his mother, saying goodbye. A New York State Trooper and I raced to his trailer, breached the door — but we were too late. The boy had shot himself in the head.
That was just the beginning. We had to notify his parents, keep them from seeing his body, wait for the coroner, secure the firearm, document the suicide note and photograph the scene. Then we went home as if nothing had happened — only to hear politicians and celebrities call us “bootlickers.”
6. The weight of investigating child exploitation and sexual assault
For officers who handle crimes against children and sexual assault cases, the burden is immense. The work is fulfilling when we can save a child or bring justice to a survivor, but it comes at a cost.
For three years, I worked primarily on Internet Crimes Against Children cases, viewing thousands of images and videos of unimaginable horrors inflicted on children. The workload was endless, like moving sand in the ocean.
After years of carrying these invisible burdens, it’s clear that officers need more than just resilience — they need structured, trauma-informed support built into the very systems they serve.
Moving forward: Extending trauma-informed approaches to law enforcement
Research on cumulative PTSD in law enforcement is gaining traction, with publications like Police1 leading the conversation.
As trauma-informed care becomes a standard approach for victims of crime, I ask that we extend the same understanding to police officers. Even in moments where they make mistakes, they deserve the same grace, empathy and support as other first responders.
Here are some steps we can take to establish a trauma-informed law enforcement culture:
- Train officers in trauma-informed practices: Departments should offer training that not only covers recognizing trauma in the community but also its effects on officers themselves. Peer-support training and understanding cumulative PTSD could be invaluable.
- Embed mental health support in departments: Routine mental health check-ins, confidential counseling services and peer-support groups could help normalize wellness as a priority.
- Revise policies to reduce administrative trauma: Small policy changes, like minimizing excessive overtime and creating non-punitive mental health options, could make a big difference.
- Encourage leadership buy-in: Command staff should lead by example, providing mentorship and actively supporting wellness initiatives. A clear path to promotion — one not clouded by nepotism and internal politics — is crucial. This requires managerial courage. Police leaders, even those appointed by governors and mayors, need to stand up and support their profession, even when it is not a popular stance. During my time in New York law enforcement, many of us felt abandoned by so-called progressive policies, with silence from those in power. Officers need leadership that advocates for them, not just when it’s convenient.
- Improve public perception and support: Public education on the realities of law enforcement trauma could help foster stronger relationships and advocacy for better resources.
Conclusion
Law enforcement officers are expected to bear society’s worst without breaking, but they’re human — just like the victims they serve and the partners they work alongside. We’ve made great strides in understanding trauma and supporting survivors. Now it’s time to extend that same understanding to the men and women who respond to those calls for help, who show up when others can’t or won’t.
This isn’t about asking for special treatment. It’s about recognizing the cost of service and providing officers with the tools, support, and compassion they need to keep showing up — not just physically, but mentally and emotionally, too.
Because if we truly believe in trauma-informed care, then we must believe in it for everyone, including those in uniform.
|NEXT: Mental wellness is crucial for effective public safety work. In this video, Gordon Graham, Lexipol co-founder and risk management expert, explains the four dimensions of mental wellness: mental, emotional, social and psychological. These dimensions impact how we think, manage emotions, connect with others and make decisions. Watch the video to learn how to promote mental wellness within your team and enhance overall resilience.
