“No death, no doom, no anguish can arouse the surpassing despair which flows from a loss of identity.”

The professional lives of frontline workers become deeply entwined with their personal identity – this isn’t what we do; it’s who we are.

This identity crisis became a two-pronged attack on my, and many others, race to rock bottom – firstly, inspiring the difficulty it takes to speak up when you’re struggling, and secondly, finding meaningful purpose following a life of service.

For people who identify as good in a crisis, strong, and performing best under pressure, difficulty speaking up when they struggle comes less from a conscious fear of external judgement but more from an inability to recognise or acknowledge symptoms so foreign to an entrenched identity. As a problem solver, having a problem just doesn’t fit.

Studies show the road gets no smoother at the end of one’s career with “significantly better” quality of life and “significantly fewer” trauma symptoms reported in non-emergency retirees.

When your life, purpose, and identity are so tightly wrapped around an individual pursuit, the inevitable post-career question arises – ‘If I am no longer this, who am I’. The inability to recognise symptoms, coupled with a newly detached identity, creates its own existential crisis, significantly hindering an individual’s ability to effectively contribute to relationships, future employment or meaningful engagement post-service.

Identity foreclosure is an individual and cultural crisis that cannot be solved through policy and procedure alone, but can be solved. A conscious commitment to creating a well-defined identity and meaning, separate from the ‘brotherhood’, is the first step in helping those who help others, find their own success. And there is a simple process to achieve it.

This is my story. What I have lived, what I have learned, and what I have earned.