A former police officer’s journey through PTSD, addiction and recovery
2 December 2025
For years, a former police officer lived two lives. On the surface, they were dedicated, capable and respected - someone who thrived in the high-pressure world of policing.
But behind closed doors, they battled a growing dependence on alcohol, fuelled by trauma, exhaustion and the silent belief that mental health struggles were a personal failing.
Their descent into addiction was gradual at first, then devastatingly fast. Eventually, they admit they were drinking two bottles of spirits a day, hiding the problem from colleagues, friends and even their partner.
Now, with more than a year of sobriety behind them, they have a new mission, and that’s to help others in the emergency services recognise the signs of trauma and addiction before it’s too late.
They joined the police in their early twenties, eager, determined and proud. But the beginning of their career proved far more emotionally complex than expected.
“I was constantly trying to prove myself,” they remembered. “I’d grown up in a very different environment from the area I was policing. I felt like I didn’t fit in. I didn’t gel with my colleagues straight away, and I felt like I was always trying to prove I had a right to be there.”
They never turned down a job, never hesitated to take a call even minutes before the end of a shift. They wanted to be seen as dedicated, capable and unfailingly willing - but underneath, their mental health was slowly eroding.
Crisis
After several years in the role, they felt increasingly isolated and overwhelmed. Feeling out of place in their team, they requested a move. The new team was an immediate relief, they recalled, adding: “It felt like I didn’t have to fight anymore. I didn’t have to prove myself. But the damage had already been done.”
That damage became undeniable when they picked up a serious investigation involving multiple offenders and a traumatised victim. They dealt with it from start to finish, putting in weeks of work. Then the case file vanished, and a superior mistakenly told the victim they had lost it.
“That was the straw that broke the camel’s back,” they said, and shortly afterwards, they were taken to hospital under a voluntary section. A week later, the missing file turned up on a desk.
They were off work for months, and while doctors prescribed medication, they resisted the idea that they was struggling.
“In policing culture at the time, mental health was rarely discussed. I thought weakness wasn’t allowed. Nobody talked about mental health - it was taboo,” they said.
During their phased return, they began drinking heavily. “It was the first time I’d self-medicated with alcohol. I was drinking every day.” They gained weight rapidly, then crash dieted to hide it. Eventually, they returned to work and performed strongly - but another incident changed everything.
Trauma
During a shift, their vehicle was rammed repeatedly. Trapped inside, they experienced a terror they couldn’t shake. After that, hypervigilance crept in, and flashbacks followed, with everyday scenarios feeling like traps.
“I couldn’t trust anyone,” they said. They were diagnosed with PTSD and moved away from frontline policing - believing that moving away would ‘fix’ their issues.
They worked in other specialised roles for several years, then took a career break to raise a young family. They assumed they would return refreshed. But life had other plans.
After their youngest child was born, and through the isolation of the pandemic, their mental health deteriorated again.
And what began as the occasional sip of alcohol became two bottles a day. They drank after school drop-off, before pick-up, and throughout the day. They hid bottles around the house, decanted spirits into containers, and kept the cycle secret.
“My life became chaos,” they said. “On the outside, everything looked normal. Inside, I was falling apart.”
Their partner noticed the change, but instead of giving up, they reached out to people experienced in supporting emergency workers and veterans with addiction. A home detox was attempted, but they continued secretly drinking. Medical detox followed, and eventually they entered residential rehab for several months.
Recovery
Today, they are firmly in recovery, more than a year sober, with their life slowly piecing itself back together. They have left policing, volunteers with the rehab centre that supported them, and works with organisations that help people facing addiction.
They continued: “My children have their parent back - a parent who reads bedtime stories and tucks them in. My relationship isn’t perfect, but we’re rebuilding. We’re getting there.”
Having resigned from the Force, their focus now is on helping others - especially within emergency services.
“Addiction affects people from every walk of life - people with careers, families, responsibilities. It’s an illness, and most of the time it’s self-medication for something people can’t cope with,” they said.
They want to visit police forces, speak openly and challenge stigma. They know that most people they talk to might not feel affected - but one person might see themselves in their story, and that matters.
“If you’re hiding your alcohol, something isn’t right. If you’re drinking to numb something, that’s a warning sign,” they said.
“I want people to know that you can’t be sacked for asking for help. Trauma accumulates, often quietly. And addiction is not a character flaw - it is a response to pain.
Grind you down
“The smallest incidents are the ones that grind you down. I didn’t realise how much I’d carried, or for how long.
“If this sounds familiar, you’re not alone - there is help out there before everything falls apart.”
If you, or someone you know needs support with addiction, there are a number of services available. These include:
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Drinkaware / 0300 123 1110
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Alcoholics Anonymous / 0800 917 7650
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Al-non for family and friends / 0800 0086 811
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