International Critical Incident Stress Foundation, Inc.
International Critical Incident Stress Foundation, Inc.
Taking Purposeful Action: When Avoidance Turns to Opportunity
By; Rich Creamer
For years, peer support programs in public safety were something we all knew existed but rarely took seriously. They were often a “check-the-box” measure, implemented more out of obligation than any real intention to make a difference. Sure, they existed on paper, but the level of engagement was minimal. I can’t count the number of times I heard, “Well, we have a peer support team,” but in reality, no one used it. It wasn’t that the need wasn’t there; it was that the culture around mental health made it difficult for anyone to admit they needed help.
But as I looked around and saw colleagues suffering in silence—burning out, numbing themselves to the job, or, in the worst cases, spiraling into depression—I knew that something had to change. We were all running on fumes, dealing with repeated exposure to trauma, and trying to live up to a false standard of invulnerability. The peer support program had the potential to be something real, something impactful. It just needed a new approach.
The traditional peer support model was reactive, and that was its biggest flaw. It only came into play after someone hit a breaking point or following a major incident. It relied on people stepping forward when they were in crisis, which is the opposite of what most of us in public safety are wired to do. Admitting that we were struggling was tantamount to admitting weakness. The culture rewarded those who could “handle it” on their own and penalized those who asked for help, even if that penalty was only in the form of social isolation or judgment.
I saw firsthand how people avoided peer support. It wasn’t that they didn’t need it—they desperately did. But no one wanted to be “that person” who reached out. It was like we had the tools to help ourselves but refused to pick them up. And the worst part was, I was just as guilty of this as anyone else. I avoided peer support, convinced that I could manage everything on my own.
Then came the turning point. I realized that if we didn’t make some changes, we were going to lose more people—not just to burnout, but potentially to worse outcomes. It became clear that we needed to move away from reactive support and build something proactive, something that didn’t wait until people were already broken.
The first step in transforming our peer support program into a real public safety wellness initiative was education. We had to reframe the way we thought about mental health and well-being, both for ourselves and for the people we served. Instead of thinking of mental health as something that needed to be addressed only in times of crisis, we began to talk about it as an ongoing process. It wasn’t about failure or weakness; it was about resilience, self-awareness, and staying strong over the long haul.
We brought in experts to teach us about the biology of stress and trauma. We learned that the repeated exposure to traumatic events literally rewires the brain, making it harder to regulate emotions and cope with stress. Understanding this helped to destigmatize the need for mental health care. It wasn’t about being “tough” enough to handle it; it was about recognizing that our brains and bodies were responding exactly as they were designed to in the face of trauma. This education wasn’t limited to formal training sessions. We made sure that conversations about mental health became a part of our everyday life. It was about normalizing the idea that asking for help wasn’t just acceptable—it was a necessary part of maintaining long-term wellness.
The next major shift came with the idea of being proactive. Instead of waiting for people to come forward and ask for help, our peer support team was trained to recognize the early signs of stress, trauma, and burnout. We started reaching out before people hit rock bottom.
This proactive approach meant building real relationships, not just swooping in after a major incident. It meant checking in regularly with our colleagues—not just when something went wrong, but as part of the normal course of our work. We started talking about how we were doing emotionally, not just in passing, but in a meaningful way. And because we were more intentional about these conversations, people began to open up.
I realized that peer support wasn’t just about reacting to a crisis—it was about preventing one. We could make a difference simply by showing up for each other regularly, not just when things were bad. That was the real power of proactive peer support. We were no longer just “checking the box”; we were investing in each other’s long-term health and resilience.
One of the most unexpected and impactful changes we made was the integration of facility dogs into our peer support program. At first, I wasn’t sure how it would work. I’d seen therapy dogs in hospitals and schools, but in public safety? It felt a little out of place. But I was quickly proven wrong.
The facility dogs became an integral part of the team, providing emotional support in ways that human peers simply couldn’t. It was amazing to see the immediate effect they had on people. There’s something about the presence of a dog that breaks down emotional barriers. First responders who would never talk openly about their feelings would soften in the presence of these dogs, and suddenly, conversations became easier.
These dogs weren’t just there for the big debriefs or critical incidents—they were a part of our everyday lives. Whether it was at the station, during training, or even after a particularly tough shift, the dogs were always available. They had an innate ability to sense when someone was struggling, offering comfort without judgment. Over time, their presence became a key component of our wellness initiative, helping people feel more at ease and more willing to engage in peer support.
We also began to fully embrace Critical Incident Stress Debriefing (CISD). In the past, debriefings were hit-or-miss. Sometimes they happened, sometimes they didn’t, and when they did, not everyone participated. There was a sense that debriefing was optional, something you could skip if you didn’t feel like talking.
But we made CISD a regular part of our process, and not just for the major, high-profile incidents. We acknowledged that even routine calls could have a cumulative effect over time. We started holding debriefings more consistently, facilitated by trained professionals who knew how to guide us through the process. These sessions provided a safe space to process what we’d experienced, to talk about the emotions that came up during and after critical incidents. It wasn’t mandatory, but it became more accepted. Our leaders participated openly, which helped normalize the idea that debriefing wasn’t a sign of weakness but of professionalism and self-care. The more we talked about our experiences in these structured settings, the less we carried those experiences with us in harmful ways.
The final piece of the puzzle was adopting a truly holistic approach to wellness. We recognized that mental health wasn’t separate from physical health—it was all interconnected. With that in mind, we built partnerships with wellness centers that offered a range of services designed to support both the body and the mind.
At the center, we had access to float therapy, massage, infrared saunas, nutrition counseling, and personal training. These services weren’t just an afterthought—they were a crucial part of our wellness strategy.
What started as a “check-the-box” peer support program turned into a comprehensive public safety wellness initiative that changed the way we approached mental health. Through education, proactive peer support, facility dog integration, CISD, and a holistic approach to wellness, we turned what was once a culture of avoidance into one of opportunity.
We realized that by taking purposeful action, we could support each other in ways we never thought possible. We created a space where it was okay to ask for help, to be vulnerable, and to prioritize wellness. In doing so, we didn’t just help individuals—we made our entire team stronger and more resilient. This is what purposeful action looks like when we stop avoiding and start embracing the opportunities for growth and healing.
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