04/08/2026
My name is Adam Meyers and I’ve been a police officer in Wisconsin for 24 years. I began my law enforcement career in 2001 after serving as an active-duty United States Army Military Policeman.
10 years ago today, on April 8, 2016, I was involved in a critical incident that changed my life forever. I used deadly force on a person who armed themselves with a hatchet inside our Walmart store. That person died.
Police officers routinely face situations that most people will never encounter in their lifetime. I know this because I lived it. Critical incidents are an unavoidable part of law enforcement. Using deadly force on another human being changed me in ways that are difficult to explain unless you have lived it.
We are trained to respond quickly, professionally, and effectively in high-stress situations. We are taught how to control scenes, secure evidence, protect the public, and make life-or-death decisions in seconds. What we are not fully prepared for is the psychological and emotional toll that follows us long after the scene is cleared, and the investigation has concluded.
After using deadly force on someone, I learned firsthand that my critical incident didn’t go away when the investigation concluded. It stayed with me. It changed me. I didn’t address the mental health challenges I was experiencing, and it affected every part of me life.
Before my critical incident, I understood what a critical incident was in theory. It was something discussed in training and policy manuals, any event that overwhelms an officer’s normal ability to cope. After my critical incident, I understood what it truly meant.
Critical incidents are not just calls for service. They are traumatic, emotionally charged, and psychologically impactful experiences that leave permanent impressions. They are moments that stay in your mind long after.
You do your job in that moment. You rely on your training. You protect lives. You make decisions that no one ever wants to make. But afterward, reality sets in. And that reality can be very heavy.
In the hours, days, and years following my critical incident, I experienced shock, disbelief, and emotional numbness. Sleep became difficult. My mind replayed the incident repeatedly without warning. Anxiety, hypervigilance, irritability, and exhaustion became part of my daily life.
These reactions are normal responses to abnormal events, but like many officers, I tried to push through them. I was cleared by the District Attorney. I put my uniform back on, returned to work, and continued serving my community. But the reality is that trauma does not simply go away if it is ignored. It builds. For six years after my critical incident, I suffered in silence.
I’m ashamed of the many ways I poorly coped, but sharing my experience is important because it reflects a reality many officers live through, but rarely talk about. It’s o.k. to talk about your mental health.
I used alcohol, ma*****na, casual s*x, over the counter medications, prescribed medications not prescribed to me, and self-harm as coping strategies. I isolated myself from family and friends. I intentionally injured myself to avoid going to work. I abused alcohol excessively consuming it and by mixing it with medications. I drank and drove at least a dozen times – once with my youngest daughter. I engaged in reckless, self-destructive behavior that put my life and others at risk. I was extremely selfish. I didn’t care about anyone other than myself. And if you look at it, I really didn’t care about myself.
There were times I put my duty weapon (G***k 22 - .40 caliber) to the right side of my head while under the influence of alcohol. Sometimes I placed the barrel in my mouth. I told myself I only wanted to hear the metallic click of the trigger being pulled, but the truth is I was struggling in ways I did not fully understand. I am very fortunate to be alive today.
At the time, I did not care about the consequences of my behavior. I only wanted to escape the memories, the emotions, and the reality of taking a life. I wanted to numb everything, even if only momentarily. My poor coping caused me more stress, anxiety, and depression. That is what untreated trauma can do. It does not always look like someone asking for help. Sometimes it looks like self-destruction.
In December 2021, during an active shooter training at an elementary school, I experienced a panic attack that led to a psychological evaluation. The evaluation lasted seven hours and resulted in a nine-page diagnosis. I chose to be honest during the evaluation, even though part of me wanted to lie and attempt to beat the evaluation and hide my struggles. That honesty likely saved my life.
I was diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder and PTSD with acute stress and dissociative features. I was deemed unfit for duty and required intensive psychological treatment including psychotherapy, EMDR, biofeedback, ACT, and DBT. I was approved a 90 day leave of absence and stepped away from the job to work on bettering my mental health.
In April 2022, during my 90 day leave of absence, I was placed on a safety plan due to suicidal ideations. While I do not remember actively wanting to die, my behaviors showed I was heading in that direction. There were many nights I prayed to God that he would not let me wake up in the morning. That was my lowest point.
In May 2022, I met with my Chief after my leave of absence expired. During that meeting, I was informed that my leave would not be extended and that I had two options: resign or be terminated. I chose not to resign and was ultimately terminated from the department where I had proudly served for 14 years.
In those 14 years, I had never been disciplined or suspended. I dedicated my career to serving the community and was honored to receive numerous awards and commendations along the way. Despite that record of service, I believe my career came to an abrupt end due to work-related trauma and my poor mental health.
Losing my career under these circumstances was devastating. It felt like everything I had worked for was suddenly taken away. I felt abandoned and isolated. The officers I had worked alongside for over a decade disappeared from my life. They ghosted me. The silence was overwhelming. It felt as though the profession I had loved and committed myself to for so many years had disowned me.
I continued weekly psychotherapy and EMDR after being terminated. I began taking prescribed Lexapro and Propranolol to manage my depression and anxiety. Slowly, I began to heal. Healing did not happen overnight. It took more than six years of work, honesty, accountability, and support from family, friends, counselors, colleagues, and even complete strangers.
About one year after being terminated, I was hired again as a police officer. During that time, I became a police officer again because I finally made a conscious decision to put myself and my mental health first and focus on healing. I committed to getting healthy, both mentally and emotionally, and began working through the trauma in a healthier and more constructive way.
Today, I serve as a Wisconsin Police Captain and a Certified Peer Specialist. I am where I am today because I finally chose to prioritize my well-being, take responsibility for my healing, and move beyond the poor coping strategies that once held me back. That decision to put my mental health first changed the course of my life and ultimately allowed me to continue serving others in a stronger, healthier, and more meaningful way.
This experience taught me several important lessons. Suffering in silence is dangerous. Peer support, counseling, and open conversations save lives. Healthy coping strategies matter. Exercise, sleep, therapy, and communication are essential for recovery. Leadership plays a critical role. Officers must trust that they can seek help without fear of judgment or termination. And most importantly, officers are human beings.
Law enforcement leaders must take a genuine proactive approach to mental health. Law enforcement agencies should build peer support teams, encourage counseling, and create environments where officers feel safe talking about trauma. Leaders must ask themselves a simple question: “Are you part of the problem or part of the solution?”
Mental health should never be addressed only at the crisis stage. By then, it may already be too late. Supporting officer mental health is not just about helping officers. It directly impacts public safety and community trust. Healthy officers make better decisions, communicate more effectively, and remain engaged in their communities.
If you believe a police officer is struggling, please reach out to them. Most police officers will not ask for help. Most police officers will suffer in silence. You could be the light during the darkest time in their life.
www.stopthethreatstopthestigma.org
Photo (Not AI) of Stop The Threat - Stop The Stigma Founder and Wisconsin Police Captain Adam A. Meyers, CPS walking through an underground tunnel at the Devil's Punchbowl near Menomonie, Wisconsin.
Milwaukee Journal Sentinel
Wisconsin State Journal
Wisconsin Law Enforcement Officers Association
WLEEDA \\ Wisconsin Law Enforcement Executive Development Association
Wisconsin Field Training Officers Association
The Wisconsin Professional Police Association
NAMI Washington County - Wi
SAMHSA
Daily News
Mental Health America of Wisconsin
WCTC - Waukesha County Technical College
