Badge of Life Police Mental Health: The Art of Acceptance

POLICE MENTAL HEALTH: THE ART OF ACCEPTANCE

by Andy O’Hara,

Badge of Life Psychological Survival for Police Officers

As cops, we stand our ground. We make decisions and hold firm to them, especially in public. Our authority is at stake. People don't argue with us. At an accident or crime scene, there can be no democracy.

I recall an accident about four in the morning where a large crowd had gathered (did you ever wonder where crowds came from, fully dressed, at four in the morning?) I immediately jumped out, pointed to a nearby yard, and ordered all the spectators to go stand in it. I had no idea why, but it seemed like a good idea at the time—and everyone complied.

The world operated the way I wanted when I was a cop—I thought. If anyone balked, I could take them to jail if I wished or pursue them to the ends of the earth. If the chief hung paper on me, I could grumble that it was the price of getting the job done right and continue on. As so happens with cops, the world for me was black and white with few grays.

With retirement everything changed. The world no longer marched to my orders. Black and white no longer worked. First, I rarely found myself in situations where I was “in control.” People looked at my levis, sneakers and sweatshirt and stood where the hell they wanted. Folks told me anything they like and cared less if I agree or not—even if I knew I was “right” (and, of course, I always was). In fact, life as a whole changed radically with each year of retirement—my fellow retirees scattered or grew more distant, no one in my old office recognized me and, in time, I needed a visitors pass for my old office (the ultimate insult for the police retiree). I found myself angry and frustrated at no longer being “who and what I once was.”

It didn’t occur to me that I might have to bring something totally new into my life—something I never dreamed possible as a cop. “Acceptance.”

Photo by Peter Martin Hall

It came slowly, and when I heard about it I went down kicking and screaming over it. Cops do not accept—cops enforce. Cops take what is awry, what is wrong in the world, and make it “right.” Don’t talk to me about “acceptance”—that means being passive, standing back and letting the world go by and not caring. I cannot, I said, and I will not accept, ever, even on my deathbed, people who talk in movie theaters, litterbugs, knotheads who drive with their heads below the dashboard, people who take my shopping cart, the guy who hangs the pizza ad on my doorknob, or the guy who races up on me when I can’t change lanes.

So, a therapist once asked, how could you change all those things and all those people? Easy! “Have them arrested!” I shouted. “Put them up against the wall!”

“Acceptance,” she reminded me, again. We kept coming back to that until I finally began to realize it was the only answer left for me if I didn’t want to live a life of anger and frustration over a world that didn’t want to change for me no matter how hard I tried to change it.

Most of us have heard that portion of the Serenity Prayer that encourages us to “accept the things we cannot change.” This means more than angry resignation, however—more than taking things as a loss. It means being realistic and really and truly letting things go—not letting them fester and eat at our guts. By “letting go,” we stop fighting ourselves and everyone else and let a little peace into our lives.

We move on.

For example, one kind of acceptance is very easy for me—the acceptance of things I like. I love rocky road ice cream—I can accept that. I also like accept certain kinds of music that bring me joy—they help me relax and lighten my day. So—right off the bat I have no problem accepting those things. Indeed, accepting the things we like is a breeze!

Our challenge is accepting those things we don’t like. We don’t want to do that. We prefer to be angry, object, complain, and be unhappy when they don’t change. Even as cops, life might have been easier for us had we not taken some of those briefing items and idiotic directives so seriously—instead of grousing about them at the coffee shop, it would have been so much easier to recognize that it was beyond our power to force a change—and move on to the more important stuff.

I don’t like paying taxes one bit. And it’s not so much a fear of doing time in Leavenworth that helps me accept it—it’s the recognition that I can’t change it. Instead, I look for the things I can change. If my heating bill was too high, last month, I can turn the thermostat down a bit this month. I can vote for representatives, perhaps, to influence energy costs. But I can’t change the fact that winter is cold or that last month’s bill already came and must be paid.

As we grow older (or more “mature,” as I learned in a seniors’ driving class) we are challenged to accept more things. Our bodies begin to protest more, but acceptance can help us carry on in spite of those complaints. I have two bad disks in my back for which I was certain I would have surgery several years ago. I decided to live with the pain (accept it) instead and continue working part time in a warehouse and, in time, I’ve realized I notice the discomfort only when I think about it.

In time I began to realize that, had I understand these basic principals of "acceptance" long ago, I could have relieved much of the stress and anxiety I had undergone during my long career as a police officer. How could this have happened, of course? Those mental health checks would have been a good start.

“Acceptance.” A valuable tool for your mental health arsenal, whether you’re an active or retired police officer. It allows you not only to let past grievances go, but allows you to begin each day with a clean slate and keep it that way—and to let new and exciting things into your life where there used to be clutter.

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