My Brain Never Learned the Fight Was Over

What happens when survival mode never switches off.

I was fighting with someone I’d arrested for domestic assault in the back of the police car. My colleague was in the victim’s house taking a statement. I’d handcuffed the suspect to the front (sadly common in the UK), and he’d hit me in the face several times with the cuffs. My assailant pinned me against the back door and started kicking me. I couldn’t escape for two reasons.

Firstly, the doors were locked from the inside. I was a rookie officer and had made the mistake of shutting the door, trapping me with the suspect.

Second, and much worse, a crowd had formed around the car. They were shouting abuse at me, and I heard one thing that made my blood run cold.

“Drag him out and cut his head off.”

I couldn’t believe it. On the streets of suburban England, people were threatening to behead me.

This motivated me to take things to the next level. I had to get to my radio and shout for help.

I managed to swipe my attacker’s legs to the side to stop him from kicking me. I radioed for help, and my colleague came running from the victim’s house. I managed to land a couple of good punches on my assailant, which stopped the onslaught.

The crowd dispersed as other officers arrived. The person motivating the crowd to behead me was never identified. My attacker served six months in prison. I didn’t care about any of that. I was glad to have survived.

Even now, years after leaving the police, I can’t switch off. I look for danger everywhere — known as hypervigilance. Being alert is great when fending off a knife-wielding robber, but it’s awful when you’re trying to have a quiet day with your family.

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The back of a police car is a dangerous place for an officer.

When I was a police officer, we transported our arrestees to custody in the back of police cars. One officer had to sit in the back with them.

Many of the assaults that I experienced happened on those journeys.

One of my worst assaults happened after CCTV spotted a male punching people outside a nightclub. My colleague and I attended, and I immediately arrested the male.

He didn’t come quietly.

In the back of the police car, he performed a fantastic contortion act. He lay down and managed to flip his legs over so he could knee me in the head. Repeatedly.

After a prolonged struggle, I got one strike in, which slowed him down, and I could then restrain him.

On several occasions, I’ve been spat on in the back seat. As I wiped the saliva from my face, it took all my willpower not to explode with rage.

Part of the stress of being a police officer is that you can’t react like an average person. If I’m fighting with you, I have to be good enough to protect you and myself. I have to use the least force necessary and know how to stop the threat without hurting you more than necessary.

Normal human emotions like anger have no place in policing. Yet the anger has to go somewhere. Rage was a big part of my descent into PTSD.

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Hypervigilance even dictated which house I bought.

When I bought my house in 2011, its location and unusual layout were huge factors in my decision.

First, my house is in a quiet cul-de-sac in a sleepy suburb. It’s located in the far corner, so it’s not visible when you pull into the road. You can only access it by going up a flight of external stairs. Underneath the house are two garages and a walkthrough. It has one way in and out.

I reasoned that no one would accidentally come down this road, as it leads to a dead end. If burglars notice my house, they won’t mess about fumbling up a flight of stairs.

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A wild imagination.

I often stare into space, imagining a dangerous scenario and wondering how I’d handle it.

A couple of years ago, there was a mass stabbing at a shopping mall in Sydney, Australia. It hit home for me because a mass stabbing is a scenario I play over in my mind frequently.

How would I handle it? Would I have the guts to tackle the assailant? Would I succumb to fear and run for my life? Would my answers change if it were two knifemen? What about a single man with a gun? Two gunmen?

I believe I go through these scenarios because I’m now pretty safe. Since I left the police, no one has attacked me, and I’ve never been the victim of any other crime. But my brain doesn’t feel safe, so without any actual stressors, it invents them.

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Schizophrenia made everything worse.

A psychiatrist diagnosed me with schizophrenia after I started believing a magician was reading my thoughts. I also thought that the government was trying to kidnap me and ship me to Siberia, and I began hearing voices. These symptoms are horrifying for anyone, but worse when combined with the hypervigilance of PTSD.

There have been times I’ve tried barricading myself in my house. I didn’t know who wanted to attack me, but I was sure someone did. That made it worse because I had to be suspicious of everyone.

Thankfully, after finding the right combo of medications, my schizophrenia symptoms abated. But my hypervigilance remained.

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How to live with hypervigilance.

Hypervigilance is a symptom of PTSD, but it can occur with anxiety and depression. There are several things I can do to cope with these feelings, and they may help you, too.

1. I practice self-care.

I ensure I take time every day to do things I enjoy. Writing is the greatest source of therapy for me. I also like to watch Rugby, read, and take life at my own pace. I don’t live by a timetable, and I’m fortunate that I don’t have to do anything if I don’t feel like doing so.

2. I don’t drink or take caffeine.

Caffeine and alcohol make me more anxious. At one stage, I drank to forget my demons and came close to alcoholism. If you can’t give these poisons up, at least limit your consumption of both and notice how your body responds.

3. I get enough sleep.

I go to bed at 2:30 a.m. and get up at 11:30 a.m. I don’t care about morning routines or what any self-styled guru might say. This is the pattern that works for me. If you work best in the morning, go ahead. Most importantly, I get 9 hours of sleep every night and stick to a consistent sleep schedule.

4. I talk to my loved ones.

I’m lucky to have the best mum and partner in the world. They are always available to talk with me and help me put my problems into perspective. I can trust them, and they will never judge me. Even having one person you can trust can make all the difference.

5. I lift weights three times per week.

Anxiety is based on the future. You don’t have a problem now, but you might have one later. Lifting weights makes it impossible to be anxious because you now have an immediate problem — you must get this weight up. So, going to the gym gives you a near-guaranteed break from anxiety and might be enough to help you see more clearly. Exercise also releases endorphins, which reduce stress.

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Final thoughts.

Many of us have mental health conditions that can’t be cured, so we have to live with our symptoms. I don’t have a cure for hypervigilance, but I do know how to manage it so that it has less impact on my life.

I’ve found that everything falls into place if you take care of your health and relationships. I had to remove myself from the flames of police work, and it hurt me more than I can express. I sank into a deep depression for years over my loss of identity. But it was necessary — there was no other way.

To start healing, you must remove yourself from the thing (or person) causing you pain.

I used to pine for the police so much that I’d have gone back for free. Now, no money in the world would make me return to that dark and dangerous career. Life is better than I ever thought possible.

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