At the peak of his athletic powers retired Australian Federal Police Commander Grant Edwards – who visited the New South Wales Institute of Sport (NSWIS) ahead of R U OK? Day – stood 195cm while his 160 kilo frame strained the scales.

Edward used his muscle – and a fierce determination that took root during his traumatic childhood –  to win a bronze medal for Australia in shot put; earn a Gridiron scholarship with the University of Hawaii; become a member of the Australian bobsled team that qualified for the 1992 Albertville Winter Olympic Games, to be crowned Australia’s Strongest Man six years in a row; win the NSW powerlifting championship and enter the Guinness Book of Records for feats of strength which included pulling a 201-tonne steam locomotive 36.8 metres along a railroad track at Thirlmere.

His resume as an Australian Federal Police officer is as equally impressive. He progressed swiftly through the ranks as he worked in fraud, cybercrime, child exploitation and human trafficking, served on secondment with the newly formed Xanana Gusmao-led Timor-Leste government, was the Deputy Head of the Multinational International Police Coordination board, Afghanistan, and sent to Washington DC as the Australian government’s representative to the Americas. There Edwards worked with the FBI, Mexico’s law enforcement agencies, the New York and Los Angeles Police Departments, and he assisted Belizean police to investigate the ‘Belize Ripper,’ a serial killer who murdered five young women between 1998-2000.

When Edwards – who is now a fierce advocate for mental health – visited NSWIS to meet with the Institute’s Senior Employee Experience Coordinator Najat Khoury ahead of R U OK? Day (which inspires and empowers everyone to meaningfully connect and to start a conversation with colleagues and mates who may be struggling with life) he reiterated that physical strength and mental health are vastly different, and how it can prove fatal for people live up to stereotypes.

“It’s easy to find the root of the problem in the police,” said Edwards. “The law enforcement culture is one that rewards strength, stoicism, resilience, and self-reliance, as well as controlled emotions, integrity, and the ability to handle complex problems.

“These values discourage people from seeking help. If, as a cop, you ask someone to help fix a problem, the fear is they’ll think – like you – that you’ve ‘lost control’.

“Police are seen by the community as strong, unflappable, and unshakable people. It’s an unrealistic stereotype, but the pressure to live up to it is enormous. Due to this, there’s policemen and women who feel isolated . . . they suffer in silence . . . because they’re terrified  admitting to having a mental health condition could harm – or perhaps end – their careers.

“As a result, a cop isn’t likely to cry out for help, and, unfortunately, some view death by suicide as their only escape.”

“And I know many athletes believe they need to live up to the image of being tough and resilient . . .  that winner at all costs. However, succeeding in sport should not come at the expense of your mental health – or your life.”

Edwards’ toll as a police officer – especially his fight against online child exploitation, having his compound in Afghanistan attacked by the Taliban, and being on a RAAF plane that was targeted by a missile – all contributed to erode his mental health. Indeed, he came close to becoming a tragic statistic: that of a police officer who died by their own hand.

“I loved my job,” said Edwards. “But it exposed me to terrible things – the greatest nightmare being the evil perpetrated by pedophiles. I did everything I possibly could to protect our broader community, but I didn’t realise the trauma of my job ate away at me until, finally, it reached the point where I was left psychologically vulnerable and exposed. I suffered a complete functional impairment.

“When my GP diagnosed me, I was terrified my identity  . . . my job . . . would be stripped from me. I even forced my doctor to take back the script for the medication he’d prescribed, and erase his diagnosis from my records. I genuinely feared it’d kill my career.”

While Edwards soldiered on, he didn’t realise that his life was falling apart.

“I was suffering inside,” he said. “In the years that followed I hit such a low point I contemplated suicide simply because I didn’t feel I could trust my work colleagues, my friends, or even my family to talk to them about my problems.

“Trust was an issue because the policing profession revolves around an unhealthy level of distrust. This was drummed into my class on our first day at the AFP college when out drill sergeant demanded we ‘distrust and question everything’.

“So, that ‘deficit of trust’ eventually impacts your entire life. But what was ironic, is while I would trust my partner to have my back in a life or death situation, and they’d expect the same of me, I couldn’t bring myself to trust that same person enough to tell them I’d been diagnosed with PTSI.

“So, I wasn’t sure where to go for help. I didn’t know who was there for me. The voice inside me promised my misery could be ended by taking my life. Thankfully I didn’t listen.”

The suicide of a colleague pushed Edwards – a respected Commander – to risk his career by detailing his mental health struggles in an email that he sent to each of the AFP’s 6400 serving police officers.

“A lot of them were shocked, but I was overwhelmed by the support I received,” he said.  “The AFP’s then Commissioner Andrew Colvin was outstanding. Rather than use my “confession” as a reason to condemn me, he – and many other high ranking officers – offered me  solid support and understanding. Stepping forward did not hinder my career. It saved me.”

Edwards said his advice to NSWIS staff and scholarship athletes on R U OK? Day – and every day – was to focus on their mental health as much as they do their physical wellbeing, and to keep an eye out for their mates.

“I’m not talking about mental health in regard to sporting or work performance,” said Edwards. “It’s about how you are, how you feel, what your values are, where you see yourself, and what you’re doing to be the best person you can be – other than your persona as an athlete.

“And if you do need help, talk to someone. The amazing thing is what you’ll learn is you didn’t need to fear the consequences. The most fearful consequences arises from suffering in silence.”

Khoury, who, during her reign as an elite powerlifter was hailed as Australia’s strongest woman, said NSWIS staff and athletes could take a lot from Edwards’s story – especially the courage to step forward should they need help.

“While Grant’s experiences were due to his AFP career, there’s a correlation with what we do in terms of competing,” said Khoury. “It also resonated when he spoke about it being OK to be vulnerable even if you have a persona about you . . .  athlete, coach, CEO, sports scientist, manager, wellbeing coordinator, whatever it may be.

“They’re all important jobs, but we need to remember – and respect – there’s a person behind those roles and they’re much more than their achievements . . . or failures. Grant showed it’s important for a person to have resilience to endure life’s challenges, but he was also brave, if that’s the right word, to speak up when he needed help.”

Khoury said NSWIS offer a 24/7 support service for employees in need of help through Access EAP on 1800 81 87 28 for 24/7 and confidential help, or they could contact other centres including Lifeline on 13 11 14.

“We’re all human and we all have our ups and downs,” said Khoury. “The advice from RUOK? suggest we follow four steps: (1) Ask if your colleague is OK? (2) Listen (3) Encourage action, and (4) Check in. And while RUOK? Day highlights the need for it, caring for our colleagues is something we should do every day.

“You just don’t know what a question that’s as simple as, ‘are you OK?’ might mean to someone who is struggling.”

Daniel Lane, NSWIS

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