Its been a year!!!
Thirty-three years. Three decades and then some, spent serving my country and community. From the disciplined ranks of the army to the unpredictable streets of the police force, it was a life lived on the frontline, a life of showing up, of facing the unknown, and carrying the weight of responsibility. Each day was a new challenge, a new story, a new opportunity to make a difference. And while those years were demanding, they were also deeply rewarding. Now, a year into retirement, I find myself reflecting on these experiences, not with a sense of loss, but with a profound sense of gratitude. This isn’t the end of my story; it’s the beginning of a new chapter, a journey into health, into personal growth, and into living my next life with purpose and passion. It’s a transition I embrace wholeheartedly, a chance to apply the lessons learned on the frontline to a new mission: helping others find their own path to well-being
The nature of trauma is that it often doesn’t reveal its true face in the heat of the moment. On the battlefields of Bosnia, I performed my duty. It was upon my return home, in the quiet aftermath, in the familiar comforts of civilian life, that the delayed echoes of conflict began to resonate. The stark realities I witnessed, the harrowing experiences I endured – they left a mark, I encountered the raw nature of trauma, the kind that burrows deep, silently shaping your perceptions and reactions. Managing my unease, I continued my service in Northern Ireland. There, amidst a different kind of tension, I found a way to reduce my anxiety, to gradually come to terms with the lingering effects of Bosnia. I learned to compartmentalise and rationalise, to create mental space between myself and the emotional turmoil. This ability to, in my head, step outside of the situation and reassess, proved invaluable. It was a skill honed in conflict, a way to ‘keep my head when all around me were losing theirs’. This mental agility, this capacity for detachment, would serve me well in my subsequent years in the police service, laying the groundwork for the challenges ahead.
Looking back, those thirty years on the “coal face” taught me a brutal truth: no matter the new regimes, the shiny initiatives, the paperwork and objectives, ultimately, it’s the person on the ground who has to deal with what’s in front of them. It’s the camaraderie, the teamwork, that keeps you going when the system fails. And let’s be honest, both the army and the police, in my experience, were masters of ticking boxes and claiming they were doing the right thing, while the reality on the ground was starkly different.
The years spent policing, particularly in my specialised role, were defined by an unrelenting sense of responsibility. It wasn’t about dramatic, singular traumas, but the sheer, unavoidable pressure of ‘having to be there.’ In a city as vast and demanding as London, with only a handful of us in my department on any given day, the tasks and calls simply had to be met. There was no slack, no room for error. most mornings, I rolled out of bed at 4:30 am, knowing that the day ahead could be a relentless cycle of demands. There was no option to call in sick, no backup to rely on. The service we provided, the tasks that needed completing, were at times, time-critical and essential. The weight of knowing that if we didn’t deliver, the system would falter, was immense. It wasn’t just the physical exhaustion of the early starts and long shifts; it was the constant mental pressure of being indispensable, of knowing that every call, every task, rested squarely on our shoulders. This relentless ‘having to be there,’ this constant pressure to perform, ultimately takes its toll, eroding my resilience in subtle, yet profound ways
The symptoms were undeniably present. The persistent burnout and lethargy, the consistent difficulty in relaxing, the noticeable grumpiness that became a fixture at home – these were all observable realities of my daily life. I attributed them to the demands of the job, a simple byproduct of the constant pressure. I reasoned that it was just part of the job, a necessary aspect of the work. I believed I was managing. However, the fact remained: these symptoms were there, a part of my existence. They were markers, indicators of the stresses of an emergency service worker.
Retirement, in its initial stages, was a peculiar blend of liberation and disorientation. After decades of my identity being linked to my service, I found myself adrift, but embraced feeling strangely free. This newfound freedom allowed me to explore uncharted territories. I launched Stevens Coaching Ltd, CPTSD Relief, and Mentally Healthier, ventures that allowed me to become my own boss, my own marketing manager, my own everything. It was a daunting leap, but undeniably empowering. The absence of the rigid shift schedule unlocked a world of possibilities, allowing me to finally prioritise my own well-being. I reconnected with long-dormant passions, delving into the world of culinary medicine and completing a diploma to become a nutritional coach. The freedom to study, to research a variety of subjects in health and wellness. The persistent, unrelenting fatigue that had shadowed me for years hindering my ability to learn and retain information had disappeared.
I prioritise long walks with the dogs, understanding its role in my mental and physical health. This realisation extended to the importance of human contact. Regular coffee meet-ups with friends, attending networking meetings, and becoming part of a great gym community have all played a role in my well-being, providing not only social connection, but also a crucial sense of belonging and support. Self-care, in its entirety, has become a deliberate and essential practice, encompassing both personal well-being and meaningful interaction with others.
I’m not going to lie, although I established my businesses a year ago, it has taken time to establish, but my focus has recently become crystal clear. It’s a journey, not an instant destination. My direction now centers on working business-to-business, developing healthier, happier workplaces, and providing one-to-one coaching to reduce symptoms, stress and to have long health. My motto, ‘Healthy Mind & Healthy Body lead to a long and Healthy Life!’. It’s a continuous process of refinement, of learning and adapting, and I’m excited to see where this path leads.
To anyone standing on the precipice of retirement, particularly those leaving the police or any emergency service, I want to offer a message of reassurance. Your years of service have made a profound difference, an impact on the lives of others. But let’s be honest, that service carries a burden, a weight that we all carry in silence. Know that there is a positive, vibrant future waiting for you, a future filled with possibilities. Whether your vision involves a part-time role, embarking on an entrepreneurial journey, or simply putting your feet up, enter into this next phase of your life with pride, positivity, and a sense of excitement for what lies ahead. You’ve earned the right to explore new horizons, to rediscover passions, and to prioritise your own well-being. Embrace the freedom, the opportunity to redefine yourself, and step into the next chapter with confidence. Your service has shaped you, but it does not define your future. That future is yours to create. Create a Healthy Happy Future.
