From the Streets to the Homefront: The Burden of Hypervigilance

I remember the immense pride I felt marching into Cobo Hall with my academy classmates for our swearing-in ceremony. My family was there, and for the first time, my mom and dad would see me in a police uniform. It was a monumental occasion, and I was proud to be on the verge of becoming a fully sworn-in police officer.

As they announced my name, I had the opportunity to shake hands with many of the top brass of the Detroit Police Department. I vividly recall approaching Deputy Chief Rudy Thomas. He gave me an enthusiastic salute and congratulated me. Deputy Chief Thomas had been one of my professors at Eastern Michigan University, and he was the one who convinced me to give DPD a try. He checked in on me often, making sure I was keeping up with the hiring process.

Next, I shook hands with Chief Ike McKinnon. He said something to me—I have no recollection of what it was. I’m sure it was just congratulatory pleasantries, but I was too focused on rounding my corners, saluting him properly, and not saying something stupid.

Looking back at my 21-year-old self, he feels like a distant memory. I changed so much over my career—some changes for the better, others not so much.

To truly examine how much I—or any officer—changes over a career would take a book, not just a blog post. So today, I’ll focus on one key transformation: how being a police officer forces you into a state of

hypervigilance.

Cops are wired to think of the worst-case scenario. We have to—it’s how we survive. Even the most mundane parts of the job become a constant game of “what if.”

If you’re not a cop, think about a task in your daily life so routine that you could do it with your eyes closed. That’s what some police runs feel like.

One of the most routine runs we handle is an alarm at a home or business. We get tons of them. We could do them half-asleep. But you’ll never see a great officer treat them that way. Great cops remain vigilant—because they were trained to be.

I was a longtime Field Training Officer (FTO), and one of my biggest responsibilities was teaching “green” officers the importance of vigilance. At any moment, someone can and will kill you if you allow it. So, you must be prepared and NEVER let your guard down.

When responding to alarm runs, I’d ask new officers, “How are you going to handle this alarm?”

Their answers were typically:

• “I’m going to pull up to the house and acknowledge my arrival to dispatch.”

• “Then I’ll turn on my body camera.”

• “Next, I’ll walk around the house to make sure no one is breaking in.”

  
  

They weren’t wrong—but they weren’t fully right either.

I’d let the silence hang for a moment. They’d squirm. I’m sure they were thinking, “What the fuck did I miss?”

“And?” I’d ask.

More silence. Then I’d begin:

• What if a car takes off from the house when you pull up?

• What if someone’s waiting in the backyard with a gun?

• What if you hear screaming inside the house?

• What if the homeowner thinks you’re an intruder and opens fire?

  
  

What if? What if? What if?

I didn’t ask these to make the job harder—I was planting the seed of vigilance.

Remaining vigilant on duty is a must. But shutting it off at home? That’s the hard part.

Years ago, I was driving with my wife when she asked, “What are you thinking about?” I imagine she hoped I’d say, “How much I love you.” Instead, I replied, “What I’d do if the guy in front of us jumps out and starts shooting at us.”

First, I’d push her below the dashboard. Then I’d floor it and run the bastard over.

That’s how we think. Vigilance. Always. And it’s hard to shut off.

When my kids were learning to drive, they had to log hours with their parents. I gave them tips like:

• “Check your blind spot.”

• “Use your turn signal.”

• “What road are you on? What direction are you going?”

• “How do you NOT KNOW WHAT ROAD YOU ARE ON?!”

  
  

I could feel my frustration building. They weren’t ready. They had no vigilance. And then it happened—

As we approached a red light, instead of pressing an imaginary brake like most parents, I shouted:

“STOP FUCKING PULLING UP SO CLOSE TO THE CAR IN FRONT OF YOU!”

“Dad, you’re stressing me out!”

Next thing I know, they’re pulling into a parking lot, quitting for the day, because their hypervigilant dad was being an asshole.

I just couldn’t understand how they didn’t see the danger. Why didn’t they know they needed an escape route in case someone jumped from the car in front of us and pointed a gun in our direction?

Their minds were on normal rational thoughts where mine was stuck in hypervigilance mode. In hindsight, all they were trying to do was keep the damn car straight and make me proud.

And honestly? No one has ever jumped out and started shooting at me…. EVER. But my vigilance still kicks in—and I remind myself: it could happen and you best be ready for it.

This was a great exciting time for my young teenagers, and I feel my hypervigilance fucked it up.  It is one of the many moments in my life that hypervigilance negatively affected those I hold so close to my heart, my family.

This is just one example of how a cop’s hypervigilance bleeds into family life. It’s hard to shut off—because it keeps us alive. 

Every shift and every moment we strive to be vigilant.

In our pre-shift roll call, you’ll often hear, “The most important thing tonight is that we all make it home.”   To do that we must take care of each other and back each other up. Most importantly, be on guard for that one dangerous moment that can change your life.

Hypervigilance works. I, along with many before me, have made it to retirement. But I wish I’d learned how to shut it off once I walked into my house. 

We often, unintentionally, bring the job home with us. Hypervigilance becomes a part of us.  It is entangled in our psyche and embedded into our minds and souls. It affects our families, and we don’t even realize it.

Hypervigilance is both a shield and a curse. I wouldn’t trade mine—I believe it kept me alive. But I wish I’d been taught how to manage it.  It just can’t be shut off like a light from a switch in the kitchen.

So how do we turn it off?

I have no clue. In nearly three decades, I was never offered, by my department, any kind of professional mental wellness training.  I had to figure it out on my own.

I’ve received more training on Microsoft Teams than on mental wellness—and our department didn't even use Teams.

That is a leadership failure.

Chiefs of Police must step up and mandate mental wellness training—not once, but routinely throughout an officer’s career. We qualify with firearms multiple times a year, even though most cops never fire their weapon in the line of duty. Yet suicide rates in our profession are 54% higher than the national average (Blue H.E.L.P.).

Where’s the urgency?

Near the end of my career, I requested the department host a seminar: Zero to 60: Career Survival & Emotional Wellness.  The trainers were offering the seminar at no cost to the department.

 It focused on:

• Suicide awareness

• PTSD symptoms

• Managing critical incident stress

• Cumulative stress

• Lifestyle warning signs

• And more

Best part? Families were invited. They are often the first to notice something isn’t right with their cop husband or wife.  Their contribution is invaluable.

At first, the idea was well received—but then came the conditions.

There had to be interest among the officers. It had to be voluntary. And unpaid.

Nothing important in policing is ever voluntary. Imagine if firearms qualification was optional and unpaid. Not everyone would show up and you’d have cops unable to hit the side of barn from 10 yards with their pistols. This is unacceptable.

This training I proposed was never offered and to my understanding still hasn’t been.

I know that some of my blue brothers and sisters will read this and disagree with me.  They may have read up to this point and said to themselves, “No fucking way should we do that!”

I get it.  But I do believe those who feel this way are mistaken.

When I was younger in my career, I would have refused to go to voluntary mental wellness training.  I would have been one of those officers saying, “No fucking way!” 

When I was young in my career, I felt invincible and immune to any mental health challenges.  I would have been tremendously concerned about what my fellow partners in blue would think of me if I had voluntarily attended.

‘Will they think I’m crazy?’

‘Will they trust me on runs?’

‘Will they think I am suicidal and commit me into a hospital?’

"Will I be watched by administration's suspicious eyes?"

But these normal insecurities we have as human beings is exactly why mental wellness training must be offered, and it MUST be mandatory. 

Mental wellness training is not mental competency training or testing.  I say that because many officers refuse to embrace mental health issues for fear of losing their jobs for mental incompetence.

I understand this fear but it is a slight overreaction. 

We, as officers, need to stop viewing mental health issues as “competent” versus “not competent”.  Think about it.  How many times have you been car to car with one of your cop buddies and listen to them complain about their back hurting, knee hurting, or how bad the flu is kicking their ass. 

We hear them complaining all the time about health issues but rarely, if ever, do we consider them not competent to do their job. 

We can do the job to a high standard with both physical injuries and mental injuries.  We will go to the doctor to help us fight off the flu or that nagging back pain.  Why are we reluctant to seek help for our minds?

The purpose of mental wellness training is not to put you in a position to lose your job.  Rather it is meant to give you knowledge and tools to put yourself in a position where you can best serve your community, yourself, and most importantly your family.

Mental wellness matters just as much as knowing how to shoot, fight, or understand the newest legal update.  Police leaders must make their officers’ mental wellness a priority as they do with all other mandated training.

You can’t throw a comfort dog into the squad room and expect to fix this. Real change requires courageous leadership that prioritizes mental health and wellness training.

Failure to do so will make leaders in police departments complicit in any mental health related deaths within their department.

And for the men and women who wear blue we MUST confront our mental health like we would the man stopped at the red light armed a gun. With unabating relentless courage and fierce action.

Stay Safe!

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