“What you need is a good, rich man to take care of you.”

I had just finished getting ready for a late shift when my friend picked me up, he lived nearby so it made sense for us to lift share as we were on the same shift and worked at the same Police Station, we just hoped that one of us wasn’t late off and would end up having to find our own way home. I got into his car and within a minute I started crying, I had no idea why. It was the kind of cry you would expect to do when told of a loved ones passing, an uncontrollable cry, a hysterical sob. I remember the concerned look on my friends face, the shock. I cried all the way to work. It was at that point I knew I wasn’t well and needed help. We got to work and my friend went straight in to see his inspector, a different inspector to mine.

Depression… the state of being depressed. Still to this day when we talk about depression I hear people say “what have they got to be depressed about.”

Having been in the police for many years I had dealt with many people who suffered with depression, from mild anxiety right the way through to suicides. Ever experienced a psychopath, high on drink and drugs wanting to kill you, no, well I have, the one and only time I have ever been chased with a man wielding an axe.

I have lost count of the amount of incidents I have attended where someone was found hanging. Two incidents in particular stay with me. I can’t go into too much detail but both were males, both suffering from mental health illnesses, one had depression due to debt and the other was suffering from PTSD, both left notes and both prepared their tragic ending. These cases stick with me because at the time I was dealing with my own struggles but NEVER did I once EVER think about ending my life. I wondered how someone becomes so ill, how no one around them notices and them themselves not being able to ask for help and the only solution is to end their life, leaving behind a devastating earthquake of emotions for their families to now deal with.

I walked into my Inspectors office in the hope that if I was open and honest about my current situation he would grant my application for a better work life balance, which he had already declined once before.

I remember sitting opposite this man, my mind was foggy and I knew I didn’t want to be at work, I wanted to be at home with my daughter who was only 3 at the time. Having just opened up about my feelings the words that followed from his little fat face still infuriate me to this day, “What you need is a good, rich man to take care of you.”

I remember looking at him, not quite sure how to respond, other than, “Are you being serious?” He played it down as a joke and laughed it off but it was at that moment I thought “Fuck you.” The next day my friend picked me up for what was to be my last shift under that Inspector.

My friend walked into his inspector’s office and explained what had just happened on the way into work. His inspector called me into her office and said “you’re coming onto my team, I’m going to refer you to OHU but for now, go home and don’t worry about anything… I still get emotional thinking about what she did for me and how she helped and I thank her for that.

I was signed off work for 3 months and took the opportunity to accept an invitation to Flint House, a Police rehabilitation centre, for 2 weeks. If you have ever been to Flint House, in Goring, you know what a fantastic facility it is and it was certainly worth the £6 I was paying in each month. I experienced 5* treatment, had time to reflect in beautiful surroundings, given counselling and met some truly amazing people.

I felt like a bit of a fraud if I am honest, because many people were there for physical injuries, back injuries, leg injuries and head injuries and at the time I didn’t class myself as having a head injury. Knowing what I know now I believe any mental health illness is a head injury. Our brain is the most complex organ in our bodies; the imbalance of chemicals can cause injury to our brains which is then linked to mental health illnesses, so why is it not recognised as a brain injury?

The more people talk about their personal experiences and the more it is reported, slowly but surely we will break down the stigma that surrounds the words ‘mental health,’ or ‘depression’ and we will change how mental health illnesses are treated, not just by medical professionals, but by friends, family and employers too.

It would take a further 2 years for me to leave the police and for those last 2 years I was on medication for depression, fluoxetine. They made me feel numb but they served a purpose. The day I left the police was the day I stopped taking the medication and have never needed it since, what does that tell you... How one thing you once truly loved and believed was your calling, your purpose, can turn out to be your nemesis.

(Remember to always seek advice from your doctor around stopping medication)

My story continues but for now I want people to become more aware of how they feel or how others are feeling. We hear more and more of how celebrities take their own life, or closer to home, how an ex work colleague and mother of two took her own life, something I still struggle to get my head around. How I wished I did more to help her or maybe I did too much, she didn’t want my help, I will never know. Life can be cruel but life goes on and I hope I can help others.

I don’t need a good, rich man to take care of me, what I need and what we all need is for people to start learning the skills to recognise when someone needs your help.

“At the end of the day people won’t remember what you did or what you said, but they will always remember how you made them feel.” Maya Angelou

I would like to thank Inspector ... She knows who she is. I would also like to thank my friend and colleague, he knows who he is. They recognised.