November 1990 TAKING THE JOB HOME By Richard N. Southworth Criminal Investigator Virginia Office of the Attorney General One day, while riding in the car, my 16-year-old daughter and I began to talk seriously about our relationship. I told Michelle that at times, it appeared as though she was angry with me and that nothing seemed to ease this rage. Almost instantly she responded with tremendous force, "I am! When I needed you, you weren't there for me. When I wanted to cuddle up on your lap and talk, you were unapproachable. Now you want to be part of my life, and I resent the hell out of it. You're damn right I'm angry!" I spent 16 years with the Virginia State Police before leaving to pursue other interests. But I also left because I was burnt out. Something was very wrong in my life, and I knew it was somehow related to being a police officer. No one can deny being a police officer is tough. There is tremendous stress associated with the profession. Most of us have experienced it, or at least have seen it in fellow officers. We know the strain it places on marriages and families, the divorces and family break-ups it causes. We also are intuitively aware that much of this discord is a result of a family member being a police officer. My daughter also is clearly aware of the connection. During our conversation, she admitted that she knew when to keep her distance when I first came home from work, and how she could tell when I responded to a bad automobile wreck or had been involved in a high-speed chase. Recently, when I considered returning to law enforcement, she emphatically stated to a friend, "No, I don't want my daddy doing that again!" When looking for causes of family turmoil, we often focus on the negative aspects of the job--the shift work, being on call, the constant exposure to pain and suffering. Compounding the situation are the frustrations caused by the court system or the department's administration that seems to offer rigid discipline and little support. All have negative effects on personal relationships. The negative aspects, however, are only part of the problem. The positive aspects, when taken home, are just as destructive. The traits and dispositions that make exceptional police officers unfortunately can also make very poor spouses, parents, and friends. To the extent that these traits and dispositions are developed and supported through police training programs and peer support systems, we seem to have institutionalized marital and family turmoil in our profession. DISPOSITIONS To understand what I mean, it is first necessary to understand the patterned responses police officers develop to help themselves function in similar situations. These patterned responses are called "dispositions," (1) which help us to respond quickly and without conscious thinking to similar events. Without dispositions, we would have to evaluate every event, decide on the best course of action, or think about how to perform each action. But, dispositions are more than habits; they include thoughts, emotions, and actions. For example, as a trooper, when I observed a vehicle being operated in a reckless manner, I would think, "That guy's dangerous. He needs a ticket!" I might feel keyed up and even somewhat apprehensive and aggressive as I prepared to stop the vehicle. Then, I would check the traffic, place my vehicle in the proper position, and stop the suspect. These thoughts, emotions, and actions make up a disposition a patterned response to a repeated event. Training, peer modeling, and repeated similar experiences developed my disposition to traffic violators. DISPOSITION TRANSFERENCE Occasionally, dispositions developed for a professional life transfer to personal situations in such a way that they are destructive. Quite simply, it happens when an officer "takes the job home." When my daughter, who is learning to drive, makes a reckless maneuver, I think, "That's dangerous, she has to be corrected!" Feeling keyed up, apprehensive, and aggressive, I respond, "If you do that again, you won't drive for a month!" It is the same response I made to a traffic violator years ago as a trooper. The disposition is still active. It may have been appropriate as a trooper on patrol, but with my daughter, it is inappropriate and destructive to our relationship. Besides, such a response does not help her to learn how to drive. Transferring professional dispositions is a serious problem for police officers, especially since most officers are unaware that it occurs. To make matters worse, police officers usually assume these dispositions are appropriate. We cannot understand why the rest of the world does not think, feel, and act in the same manner. When my wife tells me that I am being too hard on my daughter, I respond bluntly, "She's got to learn to drive right!" Then, we are likely to argue about the appropriate way to discipline children. Not teach, mind you, but discipline. And so, the cycle goes on. LAW ENFORCEMENT DISPOSITIONS To Be Professional In recent years, talk has centered on the professional police officer, one who is well-trained, well-equipped, and well-paid. But, how does professionalism translate into a disposition? As a trooper, I dressed neatly, spoke politely, and carried out my duties with authority. This seemed to capture the professional image. My professional disposition kept me alive in many situations, and there is no doubt that my professional image helped to build the public's respect and cooperation. Besides, it makes us feel good about ourselves. Yet, this same disposition can have a destructive effect on family relationships. For example, when I came home after being on patrol for 8 hours, I walked into the house still carrying myself erect with the hat pulled down over my eyes. My kids would run up to greet me, but would stop short of jumping into my arms. In fact, they kept their distance. This professional image is at least part of what my daughter referred to as "unapproachable." The professional dispositions, which worked in a law enforcement context, were inappropriate at home. I should not have been looking for the same type of respect in my family relationships that I sought in my job. Another detrimental effect of this disposition is that my family knows the image is a facade. At home, I dress like a slob, am known to slump on the couch watching some dumb TV program, and can be heard cursing about some chore I do not want to do. In short, they have seen me when I was anything but professional. When I act out my professional image at home, they either respond to me as being pompous or refuse to take me seriously. All of this sets into motion a destructive spiral. As my family pulls away, I accuse them of not caring. When I perceive that they do not respect me, I fight for that respect in other destructive ways, pulling myself away even farther from my family. As a trooper, the professional disposition built respect and self-confidence. Occasionally, it even helped to keep me alive. However, in my relationship with my family, it built a wall between us, and at times, left me feeling alienated and alone. To Take Control A police officer is expected to be in control, no matter what the situation. We act out this disposition--taking control--every time we respond to a radio call or observe a violation. Once we decide on a course of action, there is the badge, gun, and backup to enforce it. And, although our actions may be questioned later, in the heat of the moment we are in control. Taking control is at the heart of what it means to be a police officer. But, what happens when we take this disposition home? In varying degrees, we become dominating spouses and authoritarian parents. Take, for example, the day my wife was trying to get our son to wash the dishes. They were locked in a battle of wills. After I walked into the kitchen, I evaluated the situation and immediately took control. I admonished my wife for being bossy, talked to my son about responsibility, and told everyone else to leave the room so that the job could get done. In less than 5 minutes, I issued a warning, dispersed the participants in the dispute, and got the job done. I acted like a good trooper. The problem was that I still had to live with these people. I could not get into my patrol car and drive away. Predictably, my wife and I argued, my daughter defended her mother, my son sulked, and I justified my actions like a good trooper. Everyone was upset, all because I took control. My actions were totally inappropriate in the context of the family relationship. I embarrassed my wife in front of the family and undermined her authority. In the end, I alienated myself from everyone. This was not a situation that called for me to take control. Probably, it did not require any response from me at all. If it called for a response, it should have been a supportive, caring response, not an authoritative one. The disposition to take charge was destructive when acted out in my family relationships. To Remain Detached Police officers encounter a substantial amount of pain and suffering, and each time, we must deal with it regardless of the situation. The training to handle whatever comes our way starts early. From the first day at the academy, we are told repeatedly never to become emotionally involved. This desensitization keeps us from being devastated by the human tragedy we encounter daily. Emotional uninvolvement is part of the job. One day, while riding with another police officer as part of a training program, we responded to a suicide. We found two old women sobbing uncontrollably, while a young man screamed and beat the wall with his fists. His brother had hung himself in the next room. The officer's only response to all of this was to threaten to arrest the women and the brother if they did not keep quiet. The training was clear. The only way to deal with this type of situation was to remain detached, and he expected the victim's relatives to respond in the same detached way. It's not hard to see what happens when we take this disposition to remain detached home with us. When my wife's mother died, I wanted very much to comfort her, but all I felt was impatience with the whole matter. As hard as I tried, I could not empathize with her pain, and I knew she could feel my impatience and detachment. To remain detached in emotionally charged situations serves us as police officers in emergencies. Without it we probably could not function. But when we take this disposition home, it is destructive. For me it was a major component of what Michelle was talking about when she told me that I was not there for her when she needed me as a child. To Question Everything Police officers are trained specifically to be suspicious of everything. In the legitimate interest of safety, we approach every vehicle and every person as a potential threat. We frequently sit with our backs to restaurant walls and often follow regulation by carrying a weapon everywhere we go. An investigator questions the truthfulness of every statement made by criminals, witnesses, and victims. Even when preliminary information contains no indication of deception, investigators with well-developed investigative dispositions keep asking themselves what they missed. Even as I write this article, I recognize that I am predisposed to ferret out the negative aspects of my police experience rather than the positive ones that were obviously present. There are good and valid reasons for questioning everything. Quite honestly, it keeps police officers alive and solves cases. Questioning everything permeates police training. Once I helped to teach a class on vehicle stops. For several days, we put the group through every conceivable situation in which they could get hurt or deceived. During the simulations, the trainees were lied to, argued with, threatened, and shot. Not one situation involved an honest person who engendered trust. Indeed, such focus on the risks involved in routine traffic stops serves to keep officers alive. However, when applied to family situations, questioning everything quite simply makes spouses and children suspects in every family encounter. When I discovered that my hairbrush was not on the dresser where I always keep it, I caught myself going from family member to family member, basically conducting a criminal investigation. I questioned each person critically, and when no one confessed, I went back and questioned them again. The second time around the questions were even more pointed. They sounded frightfully like interrogations, complete with accusation and trick questions designed to trip them up. When my daughter got angry, ran up the stairs, and slammed her door, I simply responded, "I was just trying to find my damn brush!" It was not wrong to ask family members what happened to my brush. The problem was in the approach and the underlying attitude of distrust. When they denied knowing where the brush was, I did not believe them. I accused them of lying to me. I responded like a trooper, not like a husband and father. The important point to be made here is that this was not a thought-out response. I did not want to act this way. It was a patterned response that was triggered by the situation. Given the same type of situation at work, the response would have been appropriate. With my family, it served to create conflict and distance between us. This disposition has been the most destructive in the way I handle situations involving my teenage daughters. Like most parents, one of my greatest fears is that my kids will become involved with drugs. But, there are good reasons why I trust my kids when it comes to drugs. Yet, let one of them come home late, looking even a little tired, and the disposition to question is triggered. Recently, when Michelle came home really tired and stressed out, I knew there were good reasons for her appearance. But, I immediately started looking into her eyes and asking questions that could only indicate that I thought she might have been using drugs. I really didn't think so, but I still asked the questions. Michelle's usual response to such questioning is accompanied by anger. This time it was different. She simply looked at me and said, "You really believe I've been using drugs, don't you." The pain in her eyes overshadowed the tiredness. Of course, I denied it and tried to explain. But, the damage was done. After discussing the matter, I think she understood. But, the subconscious effects of that encounter on our relationship, and others like it, will never be fully known to either of us. CONCLUSION Transferring professional dispositions to one's personal life can have a destructive effect. With a little reflection, every law enforcement officer can find instances of this occurring either in family relationships or in other personal situations. This transference also poses a very serious problem, one that is not recognized or dealt with in police training programs. In fact, it is often denied outright, while we argue that the rest of the world is out of step. However, professional dispositions cut at the heart of what it means to be distinctively human. The facade of professionalism keeps family members and friends at a distance. Recognizing this, where do we go from here? While talking to a friend, I stated candidly, "Maybe what makes a good police officer doesn't make a good human being!" I hope this is not true, and I sincerely do not believe that it is. But, some aspects of the profession change us and cause us serious problems for the rest of our lives. If we as police officers are to live full and rewarding lives, and especially if we are to maintain meaningful relationships with our spouses, families, and friends, we must face these and other problems of our profession. We need to work hard to deactivate those destructive dispositions when we leave the job. We must allow ourselves to become vulnerable, to show respect and concern. Most importantly, we have to find a way to trust our loved ones. The problem is not inherent in the profession; it is not caused totally by society or the system. Yet, neither the profession nor society will find the solution apart from us. In the end, we are the only ones with the necessary motivation or insight to find a better way. FOOTNOTE (1) Adrian Van Kaam, Formative Spirituality Human Formation, vol. 2 (New York: Crossroad Publishing, 1985), chap. 1.