Justyn Backhouse loved being a cop, particularly serving in Aviation Command, PolAir. He was trained to always be prepared and expect the unexpected. But he never saw PTSD coming. It crept in, quietly.
“I went off sick. I just thought I was stressed, and I was having panic attacks. I was having all these symptoms, but I just thought I was just going through a moment,” Justyn said.
“We didn’t realise till later, till I was diagnosed, how serious it was.”
In 2021, the Cromer local was diagnosed with PTSD, a year later, with 25 years of service in the NSW Police under his belt, he was medically retired.
After being deployed to over 170 search taskings, helping people had become second nature. But who was Justyn if he wasn’t a cop?
As Justyn explored his diagnosis he discovered many other first responders suffering a similar way. And so he put pen to paper.
Justyn has been painfully retelling his experiences as a general duties officer, highway patrolman and a Tactical Flight Officer (TFO) in PolAir as part of a personal therapeutic process. But as he connected to so many others suffering in a similar way, he decided his story was one more valuable as a shared experience. His diaries and journey through PTSD has just been published as a book, Hidden Scars.
“I really hope people read it – maybe some young police – and go, okay, well, he’s like me and he got through it,”
“I really hope people read it – maybe some young police – and go, okay, well, he’s like me and he got through it,” he shared.
However, the road to recovery was far more treacherous than this and in aspects are still continuing for Justyn. In 25 years he experienced much trauma, pushing it to the back of his mind, unaware it will one day need to be unpacked.
A Crash Course In Policing
After reading his book, we invited Justyn to our office for an interview. Faced with a lifetime of impossible choices and life threatening scenarios there wasn’t much the 50-year-old hadn’t dove first head into; although, an on-camera chat about these experiences wasn’t on that list.
Sitting on the couch, as the camera’s were being prepared, Justyn fiddled with his hands promising he wouldn’t take up too much of our time.
Even with a career of implementing authority he still emitted a humble grace.
Justyn joined the Police Force n 1997. It wasn’t a result of a childhood dream, but rather a thirst of adventure after drifting through uni, unsure of his chosen career path.
The freshman had donned the nickname ‘Crash’ for enduring three severe car accidents within his first two years.
His kick-off era was a time of turmoil – and not just because of intense police corruption investigations by the Wood Royal Commission – the freshman had donned the nickname ‘Crash’ for enduring three severe car accidents within his first two years.
Fortunately, each time he escaped with minor external injuries, but his confidence was rattled, driving in a car felt uneasy for a while. There was no time to dwell on it though, so early in his career this was one of the first instances he simply ‘got on with’.
“When I started in 1997 mental health was not something that was talked about, and I was aware that there were people with mental health issues, but it really wasn’t spoken of, and we really didn’t get counselling,” Justyn said.
“It would have been a sign of weakness to put your hand up and say, hey, I’m struggling.”
Justyn went on to work in general duties, highway patrol and then as a TFO in PolAir – a time he admittedly looks back on fondly, for the most part.
Domestic violence cases, graphic suicides, assaults, murders, and absorbing abuse from victims enduring the toughest time in their life was a part of the job.
If there was a psychological toll building up, it was often pushed aside for later reckoning, as there was always another job to do.
“I don’t know how you can mentally prepare someone for the things that you’re going to see as a police person… it’s confronting,” Justyn explained, before drifting off a moment.
“No amount of academy or on the job training can prepare you for having to knock on a door at night and tell someone that their their child has been killed in a crash, or having to go to a violent domestic and see a woman that’s been assaulted or having been in a brawl or something like that.. It is.. it gets.. it gets in your face..”
An Issue Within?
Justyn was unaware he had been subconsciously traumatised throughout his time in the police force. He considered himself incredibly lucky to have received his career trajectory, insisting if he had his time over, he would do it all again.
“Getting paid to fly around the state was a true gift. And I couldn’t believe it. There were days when I thought I had to pinch myself, the amazing things that we saw, getting involved in really interesting jobs, complex jobs… I just feel really blessed to have had those opportunities.”
He particularly enjoyed their Cannabis Eradication Programs where they would aerially spot acres of illegal plantation, often cleverly disguised – one time among hundred of citrus trees.
However, there was no rewarding feeling better than rescuing people. Whether locating lost hikers or winching victims out of imminent danger during natural disasters, “being able to help people in a meaningful way,” was a perk of the job.
But it wasn’t all roses. Many jobs were grim, navigating a corpse retrieval from a headland following a mental health incident wasn’t uncommon. One particular incident where a man ended his life with a knife following a dangerous police pursuit was one of the trigger incidents which sent Justyn over the edge.
Even when his anxiety began to manifest and he took time off field work to manage operations at the computer, the cop felt as if he had to ‘play God’ choosing where to delegate limited resources during a storm of relentless requests for help.
Despite mutually shared experiences, Justyn said to this day speaking up about mental health issues in the force seemed like a sign of weakness, especially when you had others depending on you.
“There’s that fear of causing damage to your career. I was a sergeant, and I was leading a team, and I had to show that I was on my game,” Justyn said.
“I’ve been out of policing now for about three years. I believe there have been some new changes in this area… we did have an Employee Assistance Program where you could ring up a 1800 number and get help, but it didn’t really work for me. I tried. It didn’t really work. I don’t think there was all that much support.”
There are 1,261 NSW Police Force employees who are on long term sick leave with reportable psychological workers compensation claims, 536 with PTSD, since February 2024.
During the twilight of his career, Justyn said he became quite closed off with his friends and colleagues at work. Confused by his newfound anxiety, he felt ashamed and undeserving of the job and therefore chose to serve in solitude.
Hope Floats If Your Feelings Fly
Justyn didn’t initially mean to write a book. As a technique for healing, his psychologist suggested he begin writing his previous experiences down in order to better process them.
A deep regret for the new-novelist was showcasing ‘the worst’ part of himself to his family, particularly his kids as well as closing himself off from the world as he felt ashamed of his anxiety and confusion.
But the more time spent writing, the more he learnt about himself. As he began to heal, it became clear he could use his words to assist or prevent others going through a similar situation or at the very least, help others understand it.
“I don’t want to turn people off wanting to be police. Young people who might decide that they want to be police, if that’s what you want to do, go for it. but they should go into it with their eyes open,” he asserted, strongly believing the venture of a police officer is career worth pursuing.
“There’ll be days you’ll go home and think, this is tough, but it is worthwhile. It gets under your skin, but it can be really rewarding. You definitely need to think of your resilience and keeping those friendship groups up, talking to your mates – that’s the main thing, talking to people.”
Justyn has undergone various treatments through a specialist team of psychologists and psychiatrists who he is eternally grateful for. He has made significant progress since his PTSD diagnosis in 2021 and admits there is a way to go.
However hard this journey was, the way forward is now easier than when he started as he appreciates the power of communication and connection. His family being one of his biggest sources of joy, gifting him a newfound sense of identity following his life as a cop.
“My kids are just amazing, and I think kids are so resilient and so strong. They and my wife have really helped me. They’ve given me purpose.”
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Justyn’s book Hidden Scars is available to read now.
