In this profession, there are inevitable atrocities. Everything from the break room sink full of dishes (no, your mom does not work here) to calls for service where the victim’s teeth are falling out as they try to explain which way the subject ran. Perhaps you might feel irritated by your co-workers’ lack of respect for the break room or decide to skip the trip to Universal Fright Night this year, but generally, cops are resilient and can shake off most things. You have likely been to a class where you learned about stress and trauma. You’ve heard that “it’s OK not to be OK,” and maybe your department does debriefs after critical incidents or has an embedded clinician. All of this is great — as a culture, we are moving in the right direction by taking action to care for our people. However, we are not where we need to be and are still trying to understand all that needs to be woven into officer wellness. I want to introduce you to something called moral injury.

His compassion and relentless pursuit of justice made him a good detective, but after four years in the unit, he found it harder and harder to care about his victims. Why pour his energy and soul into this case when there were 10 more in the queue? There were always more in the queue. No matter how many child molesters and rapists he put away, there was always more work to do. After this last trial, which came out favorably, might I add — the guy got 30 to life — he found himself sitting at home, staring out the window and feeling numb. What was the point?

She was on her ninth day in a row pushing a black-and-white. She was supposed to be on vacation with her family, but staffing sucked and it was her on-call week, so work was an easy out for her. As she waved goodbye to her husband and kids, she felt a sense of relief. “One less thing to worry about,” she thought to herself. And then came the self-loathing. “That one less thing is your family … something is wrong with you …” She started her workday the same way she had for the previous eight days: at the hospital. A little over a week ago, she was first on scene to a bad TC, one where there were multiple victims all needing immediate medical attention. There were two children on scene, but she was only one person and had to make a choice. The kid she didn’t render aid to was still in the hospital, and his prognosis wasn’t looking good.

He had been on the job for almost 11 years. Motors had always been his passion, and the spot he had been working toward was finally open. Everyone, even the undersheriff, told him (off the record, of course) that he had this one in the bag. He and his wife talked almost daily about how much better life was going to be. Yes, he was going to be on call, but he would be working day shift, which meant that he could coach his son’s baseball team. After testing was done, he was called in to the commanders’ office and that’s when they told him he wasn’t going to be getting the spot. “It’s outside of my hands. Sorry, man. You know this place — politics.”

By definition, moral injury refers to the psychological, biological, spiritual and behavioral impact of, or bearing witness to, acts that transgress deeply held moral beliefs and expectations. Examples include: “It shouldn’t have been that house, or that family,” almost any kind of kid-related call, “I was supposed to stop it,” “I had to choose who to render aid to; they both needed my help,” suicide calls, “humans shouldn’t be capable of doing that to other humans,” administrative betrayal and more. These aren’t necessarily the “big” calls where the world shows up and you’re on the 5 o’clock news; many of these circumstances fly way below the radar. Often, the officer who is struggling with a moral injury is left wondering why they have negative feelings. If they didn’t use their duty weapon, their life wasn’t in danger and everyone went home, what do they have to be upset about anyway?

One way to think about it is this: stress is the part of the job that is hard, trauma is the part of the job that hurts and moral injury is the part of the job that changes you. Let’s pretend for a moment that you haven’t worked out in years (hopefully, that’s not the case, but work with me). Today, you decide to do some sit-ups. Twenty sit-ups are hard, 50 sit-ups hurt and 200 sit-ups leave you questioning your life decisions. Would you expect to be sore for a few days after doing 200? Absolutely! More than a few days? Maybe. If the soreness persisted or got worse over time, you would probably seek out a professional who could tell you if you injured yourself, how bad it is and what you need to do about it. Some traumas and moral injuries are like doing 200 sit-ups. It makes sense that you feel sore for a few days or, frankly, weeks. But if, over time, the soreness gets worse (you start doing shitty investigative work because you don’t want to develop relationships with your victims; you avoid all TC calls and your partners are noticing; or you can’t even look your commander in the eyes three years after you were passed up for the promotion), maybe there is a bit more to the injury than just feeling sore.

My suspicion is as you’ve read this article your own experiences on the job over the years have come to mind. There is nothing wrong with remembering the things that have hurt and changed you. What I want you to understand is that there is a reason — a good reason — for why you might think and feel the way you do. Moral injuries are not excuses for bad feelings or bad behaviors; they are often the gateway to things like burnout, substance abuse and a bad case of the “f— its.” And if that’s where you find yourself, you have a choice to make. You can continue grappling with the soreness and hope that the injury isn’t so bad that it won’t ever go away (hope is not a plan, by the way) or you can choose to seek some professional help and solve the problem.

In this profession, there are inevitable atrocities. Your mental health doesn’t have to be one of them.