Heather – Humans of Avon and Somerset
“The longer I was off work, the more I realised how much stress I had been holding.”
Heather, Police Sergeant
Friday 27 September 2024 – a date that is permanently etched into my mind. The date that I broke down in front of one of my team members and two Inspectors.
There were many factors that contributed to my burnout, which I was only capable of realising months into my recovery process.
I have had a varied career since joining Avon and Somerset Police in 2006, including response, neighbourhood policing and my most recent role, as a sergeant for BANES Early Intervention Team (EIT). It’s an area of policing I am passionate about, which involves managing the risk around children aged 11-17 who are vulnerable to serious violence and exploitation, in partnership with other agencies. My first year in post was challenging, with a lot to learn.
Alongside work, I was juggling other issues in my personal life, mainly around my health. For the last 20 years I believed I had IBS or food intolerances, and in recent years it seemed like every piece of food I ate was making me poorly. I never took time off work for this, even though it was a big hinderance in my life. On 22 December 2023, I was taken into hospital in an ambulance with a gallbladder infection. After being on IV antibiotics for 36 hours, I was released on Christmas Eve, having been placed on a waiting list for a gallbladder removal after doctors discovered many gallstones. As time went on, post-diagnosis, I found it increasingly difficult to engage in exercise because it left me exhausted and in lots of pain.
Despite the tough festive period, come 2024, I had my career mapped out – having been in the job for 18 years at that point, my plan was to stay put doing what I love until my son had taken his GCSEs. We had a good family routine and after years of shift work, he had some stability with me being at home. Once my son was free of exams I planned to progress my career again, going for the police sergeant to detective sergeant conversion. I also hoped to move into ROCU where I could re-focus on county lines and really target those who exploit children. Eventually, I would go for progression into an Inspector role. I spoke to my Inspector about my plan, and he fully supported me and believed me to be capable.
As much I loved my job, I would find it increasingly sad and frustrating that in all the strategies and safeguarding meetings, we were almost always discussing different versions of the same story. I constantly felt like I was failing, and that we were fighting a losing battle all the time. I felt incompetent – what was I doing wrong? What could I do better? Why couldn’t we have infinite money and resources to help these children? The imposter syndrome was strong, and I couldn’t shake off the feeling that I was failing, but not through a lack of trying, caring or passion for the role. I developed a pre-work anxiety, worrying about what would await me when I logged on. Had one of the children we work with been involved in a serious incident? If so, who and how bad would it be?
I have always felt that I have been good at managing my time; I live for a to do list. Suddenly, my to do list never seemed to shrink, my calendar was always full. I had so many meetings that I scheduled time to get my admin done, and then almost every hour of my day was accounted for. My unread emails were increasing because I just couldn’t find the time to read and action them.
Almost 3 years ago I entered perimenopause and had since been struggling with a few different symptoms because of this. For quite some time I had been feeling like my HRT wasn’t working effectively anymore. I was feeling stressed, irritable, emotions up and down. Brain fog was a nightmare; I often felt like my head was clouded over and I couldn’t find the words to complete a sentence. I was ridiculously tired; my sleep pattern was all over the place – my brain wouldn’t switch off. This resulted in crashing fatigue by mid-afternoon, which meant driving home was sometimes a real struggle. Some evenings I couldn’t bring myself to cook dinner. My family weekends were non-existent, and any possible time we had together I had no energy to do anything. I was also in constant pain daily due to my gallbladder.
On Friday 27 September I was working from home, my pre-work anxiety clouding my thoughts as had become a regular occurrence. I logged on as normal, checked Teams messages first, followed by emails. I had an email letting me know a file a colleague and I had spent hours working on was still not ready to go to the Crown Prosecution Service (CPS). Usually when this happened my normal response was to feel frustrated, have a rant, and then crack on with the work.
I called the colleague I had worked on the case file with to update her and have a little moan. She had worked so hard on it, and it wasn’t even her job. My anger quickly turned to tears and I was suddenly crying in front of her. I felt unprofessional, embarrassed, and ashamed. After the call ended, I composed myself and dialled into a daily supervisor’s meeting. I had to keep turning off my camera because I kept tearing up, I had no control over it. Who cries over a returned file? I told myself I must just be having an overly emotional reaction because my HRT isn’t working effectively.
Immediately after the meeting I tried to prepare myself for a call with my new Inspector. He had only been in post for a few weeks, having only met me once on Teams and seen me in the morning meetings via my camera. He didn’t know me, I didn’t know him – and I burst into tears again. All the feelings from my first call of the day returned in full force. He listened to my incoherent babble, reassured me, and encouraged me to log off and have a break from the computer for a while.
Reluctantly, I did as he said, watching mindless TV while intermittently crying. I thought it must be the menopause, my medication wasn’t working, so I would have a quiet day and bounce back the following week. I’d be fine, I always was. When I logged back on, I had a call with another Inspector about a project I was running and requesting funding for. During the call she realised someone from another department had been asking questions about it and I took this in a very negative way, almost becoming paranoid. Was my work really that bad? Why was my own inspector supporting and praising the work if it was really so bad? Am I just playing at being a Sergeant? The tears began to flow again.
The Inspector couldn’t have been nicer, and she spent the best part of 45 minutes convincing me to take the rest of the day off and longer if I needed. She offered to speak to my boss, gently calling me out when I half-heartedly said I would do it. She encouraged me to be kinder to myself, realising I was struggling and affirming it was okay to be feeling the way I was. After messaging my boss, he agreed I needed to take the rest of the day off with no question.
I spent the rest of the afternoon on my sofa, under my blanket. If I distracted myself, I could convince myself I was okay, but as soon as my mind wondered back to work, I would cry again. Texts and WhatsApp messages were being left unread – I can usually write war and peace, but I couldn’t even reply to people saying I was okay. I wasn’t doing well, and I didn’t want to lie – but I didn’t know how to express what I was feeling because I didn’t understand it myself.
My friend came to see me after the school run, with my son and her two children in tow. My son could see how upset I was and gave me the loveliest cuddle. After he and his friends went off to play football, my friend sat with me and let me try to explain how I was feeling. Her husband came round and helped my husband sort an evening meal for us. I was a complete broken mess and two of our best friends had seen it and had supported me/us without question. They left us after dinner, and once my son was in bed I just cried inconsolably in my husband’s arms, still unable to explain why I was feeling this way.
That weekend is a blur. I didn’t get dressed, leave the house, with no energy to cook or clean. My sleep was still irregular, and I was still so completely exhausted. When Monday morning came around, I couldn’t face logging on for work. It filled me with so much anxiety. Reluctantly, I messaged my Inspector to say I needed a few more days. My husband and I started to tell other family members and friends our situation throughout that week, as and when the need arose, all of whom were and continue to be amazingly supportive.
When I finally had a telephone appointment with a doctor, I explained everything to him, and he wasn’t convinced it was all down to menopause. He signed me off with fatigue for two weeks and changed my HRT and citalopram dosages. I’ve been on a hormone balancing medication citalopram for years after being unofficially diagnosed with Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder (PMDD), because it wasn’t very well known about back then.
I wasn’t overly happy at the end of that call, but I thought ‘he’s the doctor, so he knows best’. I took the two weeks off, and during that time started forcing myself to get dressed and leave the house for short periods. I went for little walks and tried to drive, but even that was too difficult because I was so anxious I wasn’t concentrating properly. My husband was trying to manage the house around his long working days.
I only had two weeks off and I needed to feel better. I must just be able to snap out of this low mood, surely? This was the worst I’d ever felt. How could perimenopause be so debilitating for so long? After contacting the Employee Assistance Programme (EAP), I was triaged and sent a self-led Menopause CBT. Perhaps if I was just suffering from extreme menopause symptoms this would have helped, but at the time I couldn’t summon the motivation to follow a self-led programme. I needed more support than that.
The end of the two weeks sign off was looming. I felt so guilty about being off work and leaving others in the lurch, but I also had so much anxiety about going back. I’d only been on the new HRT and citalopram dosages for just under two weeks, so I couldn’t tell if they were helping yet. The new HRT was a nightmare, and I hadn’t had enough time on it to see if it was making a difference. After another phone appointment, I was signed off for a further four weeks.
Having time away from work gave me chance to step back and reflect. The longer I was off, the more I realised how much stress I had been holding. I knew I was anxious about further incidents happening with our young people, but I hadn’t realised the impact that was having on me and how unhealthy those feelings were. The thing that hit me the most was the fact there were three fatal stabbings in my first eleven months in-post. This was three young people who were no longer with us. That’s all I could think about, repeating the incidents in my mind, conjuring up images of what had happened. At the time, I was sad for the loss of life, but my brain kicked into ’getting things done’ mode. I realised I never allowed myself to process the effect those incidents had on me. I also hadn’t realised how negatively it had been impacting on my own parenting. Thinking back, I would mention it a lot in conversations in and out of work. Perhaps me mentioning it a lot was a sub-conscious plea for help? Who knows? I didn’t think I needed help until this happened.
Feeling like I had made some progress in identifying the root cause of this, I got back in touch with the EAP. I explained I had realised I was carrying some vicarious trauma that I was struggling to process. This can be experienced by anyone who engages empathetically with traumatic incidents. I asked to speak to someone about it as I was not in the right place to complete a self-led programme. I was soon ‘matched’ with a counsellor, but by the end of the six online sessions with her, I didn’t feel I had dealt with the core issues I wanted to address. However, she did encourage me to question whether my policing role was suitable for my well-being going forward.
The four-week ’fitness for work’ note was due to expire, and I really wanted to see someone in person. I just couldn’t imagine that I would ever be able to return with the way I was still feeling. I was starting to accept this was a little bit more than just a blip. I resolved to visit the surgery in-person to book an appointment, and I managed to do so.
The GP was so lovely and was a similar age to me so could relate to my journey. I completely broke down in her room going through everything again. She confidently told me it wasn’t just menopause; I was burnt out with anxiety and fatigue as well. I absolutely made her late for her other patients, but she did not rush me or make me feel like I needed to get out. The GP encouraged me to question whether my current role was suitable for me anymore and extended my note by two months. The relief was immense. Suddenly, it was all starting to make sense. I was also referred to the Menopause Clinic where they could review my HRT and make changes if needed.
In December I finally had a gallbladder removal operation. The surgeon told me afterwards there were lots of stones compacted at one end of the gallbladder, blocking the duct, so it was no wonder I was in constant pain. The change was incredible. I could now eat pretty much anything I wanted to without issue. Physically, I was a different person.
Week-on-week I was making progress, but I was still nowhere near ready to come back to work. After a lot of soul-searching, I came to the realisation that I really wouldn’t be able to cope with returning to the same role. Every time I thought about it, I became upset and all I could picture was me sitting at my desk and breaking down again. My Inspector submitted a management referral to Occupational Health Unit (OHU) for consideration of a medical redeployment in mid-December.
As we entered the new year, I realised this was longest period of absence I’d had other than maternity leave. It was a very strange feeling. I hated that I was in this position but knew I couldn’t rush back. I needed to get myself into a place where I was ready. However, I also had a lot of anxiety around the medical redeployment. Imposter syndrome crept in once again. Is this just all in my head, will they tell me I’m fine and to just get on with it? There are people struggling far more than me. It’s vicarious trauma, is it even that bad? I didn’t even witness these events first-hand. These thoughts often far-outweighed the positive thoughts I needed to prioritise to aid my recovery.
I was becoming more active, making myself go for an hour-long walk most days, when I was able to post-op. Being ou5t in the fresh air does work wonders. Returning to Pilates and joining an over 40’s netball team were more activities I could join. I was doing more around the house, finding myself having little bursts of energy and able to do some deep cleaning – it was quite therapeutic and made me feel better about myself.
I had a lot of time to reflect and identify causes of the burn out and anxiety. As well as the vicarious trauma and general work stresses, my Inspector retired in the September, and my DCI would be moving on due to a promotion. They were both brilliant and supportive leaders. I felt trusted, when I wasn’t getting too into my own head and imposter syndrome was taking over. I felt secure. I was dreading them leaving. I had so much anxiety. I was anxious about the unknown: who would replace them? How would it be? Would they see through me and realise I shouldn’t be a police officer, let alone a sergeant? Would they change everything I knew and understood? Would I get on well with them?
Even with the progress I was making, there were often setbacks. I was using social media a bit more – just ‘doom-scrolling’, not actively engaging. There was a post about a serious but non-fatal knife crime incident in our force area, and I read it without thinking of what effect it could have on me. It was too much, and I almost reverted to how I was on that day in September. I was shaking, holding my breath, my mind went blank with panic. I was able to use breathing techniques my counsellor had shown me and I was able to discuss it with her in my next session. It still bothers me now when I think about it.
I had been working to get myself to a place where I felt I could return to work and had a time frame in-mind. I resolved to return to work in March; setting a date gave me something to work towards. My Inspector had found a project work for me to do that was completely away from the EIT world. I finally had my phone consultation with OHU, and the nurse was absolutely lovely – so kind, caring and reassuring through my tears. She supported a medical redeployment into a ‘low/no risk of trauma’ role, and a phased return to work. I was also referred for psychotherapy, which I accepted – these sessions have been an incredible help.
Facing a flurry of emotions and fears, I got up on Monday 4 March and logged on at 9am. My first day back was essentially a day with IT, as I struggled to log back on to the various systems we use, and by the time these were sorted it was time for me to log off for the day. I had to face the fact that someone was now confirmed in post to replace me in my old role. I don’t begrudge this, the team needed a supervisor, and I know how these things work – but that didn’t make it any less of a gut punch. Even though I couldn’t do the role, it was the one I was passionate about and had worked so hard towards.
I cannot stress enough the importance of having a support network. I have had a lot of support during this period, for which I am forever grateful. My husband, close friends and family, and some amazing colleagues who I was able to open up to and trust, whether over a message or meeting up in person. Just knowing all those people were there and understood and cared helped more than they will ever know. The Inspector who encouraged me to take some time off back at the beginning had messaged me a few days after we had chatted, checking in on me. I was really touched by her follow up, and we spoke on Teams during my first week back. She was just as kind, supportive and caring then as she had been that day. People like her make a huge difference to this organisation.
I am back at work, but I am not ‘cured’. I still have wobbles. I am not the person I was before. However, I am better than I was, and I want to keep getting better. I spent a week at Flint House on their Mental Health Programme, which was fantastic. I want to know who I am now. I want to be a police officer, a sergeant. There are a lot of restrictions to what I can do at this present time, but that won’t be forever. I will get to a place where I can take on roles with a heightened risk of trauma again, where I can hopefully make a difference. There are multiple places I can draw support and advice, from undertaking psychotherapy sessions, to trialling a different HRT with the Menopause Clinic. Furthering my understanding of my mind, I am also seeking assessments for ADHD and autism.
I spent a lot of my time and brain power writing this since being back at work, and it was very cathartic. I wanted to share my story to encourage more openness around mental health. As an organisation we are making good strides, however, when telling some people why I had been off, there was a tangible awkwardness, not knowing what to say next. It would be amazing to be able to talk about mental health as openly and comfortably as we would a broken bone. I have made a lot of progress on my recovery, and I am in a place where I am neither embarrassed nor ashamed. I hope that sharing will help even just one person to recognise the signs in themselves or someone they work closely with. Or be able to recognise the impact menopause symptoms may be having on them. It is ok not to be ok, and it takes strength to seek help and support. I think we all need to remember it’s okay to admit when we’re struggling.
