I sat beside Rach at a High Tea fundraiser, for a great cause supporting women and children escaping domestic violence. We were there representing doTERRA, a corporate sponsor, sitting in a room of 300 guests, buzzing conversation and gentle laughter filled the room. We were mid-way through the beautiful event, and as the next speaker, an ex-cop turned criminologist took the stage and began to talk, something shifted inside me.
At first, he spoke of a few anecdotes about his days in the force. As he continued, his voice seemed to drift over the room. I listened to his words but didn't hear what he said. My body was in that room, but my mind was wandering off somewhere else - somewhere within. I began placing myself in my stories, sinking deeper into various scenarios. I became overly self-aware. My heart picked up speed, and the edges of my vision blurred, but I couldn’t quite place why.
As the speaker continued, I caught parts of his story about a domestic incident where he and his partner were attacked, then something ‘clicked’. Not consciously - there was no single word or phrase that I could grasp. But the feeling… it started to pull me in. The walls felt like they were closing in, my chest tightened and it was challenging to draw breath. My heart was pounding, faster than I could keep track, and the air in the room seemed to vanish. I was struggling to keep it together!
A career as a Police Officer—the gift that just keeps giving, right?
Seven years have passed since I walked away from the NSW Police Force, leaving behind more than just a job. I carried things with me, unspoken things. Things I never really knew what to call. Is it Trauma, PTSD, or Anxiety? Regardless, it's been tucked away neatly into the corners of my mind, randomly coming forward to be unpacked.
This story is uncomfortable for me to walk through here, and it may be confronting to read. It might not be for everyone, but I feel like it’s important to share.
Mental health isn’t something you can predict - not when it’s buried deep inside you that you don’t even know it’s there. When I left the cops, I set off towards a new life. Travelling Australia, focusing on family, our Essential Oils business, and personal growth. I had the ever-present loving support of Rach, our incredible oils, endless wellness products, and our incredible community to seek out and receive help from. I also wasn't shy of jumping into the dark spots and examining them for what they were. I gave myself the best chance of combating my way through the mess. I've done a lot of work. I’ve come a long way. Well, at least that’s what I thought.
Yet, somehow, here I am, sitting in a room full of strangers, spiralling inward!
I was no longer listening to the speaker. His voice had become background noise, distorted like a muffled radio. My chest felt impossibly heavy, like something was pressing down on me. Each breath felt shallower than the last. I sat there thinking "What's happening to me!", praying no one would notice.
Just when I thought I’d lose control, Rach leaned in and squeezed my hand. Her touch was gentle but firm, a lifeline pulling me back to the surface. "Why don’t you take a walk outside," she whispered, knowing without needing to ask what was happening.
I needed to get out, now! But as I stood up, everything was moving in slow motion and my feet felt missing. My heart was racing, faster and faster. I was barely holding it together, and as I made my way toward the exit, I thought to myself, 'Just don't fall over.'
Each step felt like it was taking me further away from reality, the room closing in more! 'Don't make eye contact with anyone' I thought, even though I could barely see the path leading out of there! The tears started - out of nowhere - blurring my vision more, my breath coming faster and faster! I stumbled down the stairs and out of the room, barely aware of my surroundings, and found myself in the hallway.
I darted for a spot out of sight to hide, behind a wall! With my back against the wall, I clutched at my chest, hyperventilating, breathing rapidly and uncontrollably! As my heart pounded, tears streamed down my face and my vision blackened over, as if the doors were closing over! I barely stayed conscious!
I spent God knows how long there, trying to reground myself and regain control of my breath! Eventually, I managed to settle! I stood there, completely stunned, trying to wrap my head around what just happened. I thought, "What the fuck was that!"
This had never happened to me before—not like that. Not that severe, and definitely not in public. This was new. And it was terrifying!
I kept hoping I hadn’t made a complete fool of myself on the way out—did anyone notice? Then my mind went to Rach, in there on her own, wondering if people were judging her for me walking out like that.
After a while, I calmed myself down enough to leave my little hiding spot and head outside for some fresh air. Standing there, I could breathe again, and after a few deep breaths, I worked up the courage to go back inside. When I got back, it was like nothing had changed. The room was exactly how I left it. And from what I could tell, no one even realised I’d just been through hell outside. Well, except for the few at our table—two ex-cops, Rach was speaking with. They were certainly aware of where I'd gone!
It’s scary when you think about it. Seven years of work— self-care, Connection groups, Personal Development, all the stuff I’ve put in place to deal with the 'gifts of the job.’ Yet it still sneaks up on me when I least expect it. The trauma’s still there, just waiting to remind me it hasn’t gone anywhere. Meanwhile, that ‘job’ has long since forgotten me.
I still don’t know how Rach knew. When I asked her later, she just shrugged and said, “I just knew. You always have a ‘look’ when something like this happens” And honestly, if you know Rach, you know that’s a perfectly reasonable answer. I have no idea what triggered it—whether it was something the guy said, or if it was just my brain deciding to throw me off the deep end. I really don’t know.
This incident reminded me that healing isn’t linear, and the work is never really ‘done.’ But that’s okay. What matters is that I’m still here, still working through it, one moment at a time. I haven’t had an episode like that before, or since, and even writing this now as I walk back through all the feelings and rawness of the moment, it’s not resurfacing the same way.
Maybe that’s a good sign.
I am lucky though. I’ve got a strong awareness of my mental and physical health, and I’m always pushing to keep them in check. I fill my mind with good podcasts, books, and lectures, always trying to learn and sharpen my understanding of what’s going on in my head.
I’ve been thinking of writing this down for a while, and tonight felt like the right time. I hope this gives you some insight into one experience I had. I hope If you know someone dealing with these challenges—whatever you want to call them—that you are able to draw from my words to fill in some blanks you find yourself with.
This ordeal has left me with more questions than answers about my mental health, but one thing is clear: healing happens in moments like these, and it comes from facing our struggles head-on, even if it takes years to fully unpack them.
If any part of this resonates with you and your situation, just know—you’re not alone. I’m here if you want to reach out. Whether you’re curious about my journey (which is clearly still a work in progress) or just need someone to listen while you sort through your thoughts, I’m happy to chat, whether you know me or not!
Thank you for sticking with me through this. It’s tough to talk about, and maybe even tougher to hear, but it’s real.
We all have our struggles, but the most important thing is to keep showing up, even when the days are hard.
Take care,
Clint
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