By Devin Konick-Seese, Crosscut., February 7, 2020
Last August, during a characteristically long Pacific Northwest summer day, one of my siblings was in a Seattle park with friends past closing, enjoying the last few rays of sun. The soundtrack to their night, blaring from a Bluetooth speaker, apparently frustrated a neighbor, who decided to call 911. It wasn’t long before the police arrived at the park, shining flashlights and yelling at them to leave. Bright lights and loud noises are reliable ways to trigger a person with post-traumatic stress disorder, which is what happened to my sibling that night. They felt threatened, confused, terrified and out of control to the point of suicidal ideation. My sibling spent the last remaining weeks of summer being shuffled between hospitals and psychiatric clinics.
Growing up with siblings who entered my parents’ home through the Washington state foster care system, and working in one of Seattle’s emergency shelters, I’ve spent most of my life around people with complex emotional and psychological trauma. While some experiences have resolved quickly and peacefully, I’ve also seen first responders escalate crises on more than one occasion.
A behavioral health crisis occurs when a person’s emotions, psychological state and resulting behaviors put them or others at risk of imminent harm. Our first-response systems need to better understand how trauma causes and contributes to behavioral health crises. Integrating the principles of trauma-informed care — including transparency, personal safety, peer support and cultural responsiveness — can improve public health and make our community safer. Interactions with law enforcement and other first responders should never be a source of added traumatic stress for anyone involved, whether it be the first responders themselves, bystanders or the subjects of the call.
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