2 days ago
It's not weak to speak: Mark's message to brave first responders everywhere
After nearly four decades serving with the NSW Police Force - most of it as a detective sergeant in my home town of Dubbo - I've come to realise that while first responders are trained to protect others, we're not always so good at protecting ourselves.
Every day across Australia, police officers, paramedics, firefighters, emergency call operators, and countless volunteers suit up and show up - not knowing what their shift will bring. Some days, it's routine. Other days, it's chaos, tragedy, and trauma. And while we carry out this work with pride and purpose, the mental toll is immense - and often invisible.
One in three first responders experience high or very high psychological distress. Think about that. These are the men and women who run toward danger while others flee. Who deliver the worst news to families. Who carry the memories of the accidents, the suicides, the violence. And still, they show up.
I know the weight of this distress all too well. In 2016, my youngest son Perry died by suicide. He was a builder, a rugby league player, and the light of our lives. Losing him shattered me in ways I can't describe. But it also helped me understand - more than ever - the absolute urgency of supporting the mental health of first responders and their families.
Because behind every uniform is a person. A parent. A partner. A mate. And often, someone silently struggling.
Throughout my career, I've tried to lead with a simple philosophy: If we look after each other, we can get through anything. That means being there for your team, listening without judgment, and recognising that mental strength includes asking for help.
For too long, vulnerability has been seen as weakness in this job. I believed it once too. But I've learned - it ain't weak to speak. In fact, it's one of the bravest things you can do.
After Perry's passing, I became involved with LIVIN, an organisation working to break the stigma around mental health, especially among men and tradies. In his honour, I started hosting annual Tradies Breakfasts to promote the message: "It ain't weak to speak". Today, I continue this advocacy as an ambassador through Fortem Australia, a not-for-profit supporting the mental health and wellbeing of first responders and their families.
Fortem's work is critical. It fills a gap that existed when I first joined the force in 1988 - back then, mental health was hardly even a footnote in the job. Today, Fortem runs clinical support programs, social connection activities, mental health literacy training, and career management services. They're on the ground helping people not just survive their career, but live fully throughout it.
This year's sixth annual Thank a First Responder Day is June 11, 2025. The idea is simple, but powerful: show first responders and their families that they are seen, valued and appreciated.
From school shout-outs and community barbecues, to illuminated landmarks and social media messages, it's a moment for the nation to say, "We see you. We thank you. We're with you".
Saying thank you isn't just polite - it's protective. Research shows that feeling appreciated boosts wellbeing and resilience. It reminds first responders that their sacrifices matter. That their families' sacrifices matter. And that when the sirens stop, they're not forgotten.
But gratitude alone isn't enough. We must also back it up with real, ongoing support. This means properly funding mental health services for first responders, creating safe, stigma-free workplaces, and acknowledging the toll this job takes not just on individuals, but on families and the wider community.
My wife Liz and I have been married for 37 years. She's stood by me through the toughest parts of this career: late nights, harrowing cases, the loss of our boy, and the rollercoaster of grief. Families like ours carry this burden too. We also need care, community, and acknowledgment.
So this Thank a First Responder Day, I'm not just asking for a thank you. I'm asking for awareness. For compassion. For commitment to change. And for every first responder reading this: raise your hand if you need help. There are people - like Fortem - ready to take it.
It's important we continue building a culture where it's okay not to be okay. Where first responders are supported not just during disasters, but every day after. A world where those who serve don't have to suffer in silence.
Because the bravest thing I ever did wasn't running toward a crime scene. It was speaking up about my pain - and helping others do the same.
To all first responders and your families: thank you. You are not alone. And to every Australian: your words of gratitude, your actions, your donations - they matter more than you know.
For donations and to show your gratitude, visit
After nearly four decades serving with the NSW Police Force - most of it as a detective sergeant in my home town of Dubbo - I've come to realise that while first responders are trained to protect others, we're not always so good at protecting ourselves.
Every day across Australia, police officers, paramedics, firefighters, emergency call operators, and countless volunteers suit up and show up - not knowing what their shift will bring. Some days, it's routine. Other days, it's chaos, tragedy, and trauma. And while we carry out this work with pride and purpose, the mental toll is immense - and often invisible.
One in three first responders experience high or very high psychological distress. Think about that. These are the men and women who run toward danger while others flee. Who deliver the worst news to families. Who carry the memories of the accidents, the suicides, the violence. And still, they show up.
I know the weight of this distress all too well. In 2016, my youngest son Perry died by suicide. He was a builder, a rugby league player, and the light of our lives. Losing him shattered me in ways I can't describe. But it also helped me understand - more than ever - the absolute urgency of supporting the mental health of first responders and their families.
Because behind every uniform is a person. A parent. A partner. A mate. And often, someone silently struggling.
Throughout my career, I've tried to lead with a simple philosophy: If we look after each other, we can get through anything. That means being there for your team, listening without judgment, and recognising that mental strength includes asking for help.
For too long, vulnerability has been seen as weakness in this job. I believed it once too. But I've learned - it ain't weak to speak. In fact, it's one of the bravest things you can do.
After Perry's passing, I became involved with LIVIN, an organisation working to break the stigma around mental health, especially among men and tradies. In his honour, I started hosting annual Tradies Breakfasts to promote the message: "It ain't weak to speak". Today, I continue this advocacy as an ambassador through Fortem Australia, a not-for-profit supporting the mental health and wellbeing of first responders and their families.
Fortem's work is critical. It fills a gap that existed when I first joined the force in 1988 - back then, mental health was hardly even a footnote in the job. Today, Fortem runs clinical support programs, social connection activities, mental health literacy training, and career management services. They're on the ground helping people not just survive their career, but live fully throughout it.
This year's sixth annual Thank a First Responder Day is June 11, 2025. The idea is simple, but powerful: show first responders and their families that they are seen, valued and appreciated.
From school shout-outs and community barbecues, to illuminated landmarks and social media messages, it's a moment for the nation to say, "We see you. We thank you. We're with you".
Saying thank you isn't just polite - it's protective. Research shows that feeling appreciated boosts wellbeing and resilience. It reminds first responders that their sacrifices matter. That their families' sacrifices matter. And that when the sirens stop, they're not forgotten.
But gratitude alone isn't enough. We must also back it up with real, ongoing support. This means properly funding mental health services for first responders, creating safe, stigma-free workplaces, and acknowledging the toll this job takes not just on individuals, but on families and the wider community.
My wife Liz and I have been married for 37 years. She's stood by me through the toughest parts of this career: late nights, harrowing cases, the loss of our boy, and the rollercoaster of grief. Families like ours carry this burden too. We also need care, community, and acknowledgment.
So this Thank a First Responder Day, I'm not just asking for a thank you. I'm asking for awareness. For compassion. For commitment to change. And for every first responder reading this: raise your hand if you need help. There are people - like Fortem - ready to take it.
It's important we continue building a culture where it's okay not to be okay. Where first responders are supported not just during disasters, but every day after. A world where those who serve don't have to suffer in silence.
Because the bravest thing I ever did wasn't running toward a crime scene. It was speaking up about my pain - and helping others do the same.
To all first responders and your families: thank you. You are not alone. And to every Australian: your words of gratitude, your actions, your donations - they matter more than you know.
For donations and to show your gratitude, visit
After nearly four decades serving with the NSW Police Force - most of it as a detective sergeant in my home town of Dubbo - I've come to realise that while first responders are trained to protect others, we're not always so good at protecting ourselves.
Every day across Australia, police officers, paramedics, firefighters, emergency call operators, and countless volunteers suit up and show up - not knowing what their shift will bring. Some days, it's routine. Other days, it's chaos, tragedy, and trauma. And while we carry out this work with pride and purpose, the mental toll is immense - and often invisible.
One in three first responders experience high or very high psychological distress. Think about that. These are the men and women who run toward danger while others flee. Who deliver the worst news to families. Who carry the memories of the accidents, the suicides, the violence. And still, they show up.
I know the weight of this distress all too well. In 2016, my youngest son Perry died by suicide. He was a builder, a rugby league player, and the light of our lives. Losing him shattered me in ways I can't describe. But it also helped me understand - more than ever - the absolute urgency of supporting the mental health of first responders and their families.
Because behind every uniform is a person. A parent. A partner. A mate. And often, someone silently struggling.
Throughout my career, I've tried to lead with a simple philosophy: If we look after each other, we can get through anything. That means being there for your team, listening without judgment, and recognising that mental strength includes asking for help.
For too long, vulnerability has been seen as weakness in this job. I believed it once too. But I've learned - it ain't weak to speak. In fact, it's one of the bravest things you can do.
After Perry's passing, I became involved with LIVIN, an organisation working to break the stigma around mental health, especially among men and tradies. In his honour, I started hosting annual Tradies Breakfasts to promote the message: "It ain't weak to speak". Today, I continue this advocacy as an ambassador through Fortem Australia, a not-for-profit supporting the mental health and wellbeing of first responders and their families.
Fortem's work is critical. It fills a gap that existed when I first joined the force in 1988 - back then, mental health was hardly even a footnote in the job. Today, Fortem runs clinical support programs, social connection activities, mental health literacy training, and career management services. They're on the ground helping people not just survive their career, but live fully throughout it.
This year's sixth annual Thank a First Responder Day is June 11, 2025. The idea is simple, but powerful: show first responders and their families that they are seen, valued and appreciated.
From school shout-outs and community barbecues, to illuminated landmarks and social media messages, it's a moment for the nation to say, "We see you. We thank you. We're with you".
Saying thank you isn't just polite - it's protective. Research shows that feeling appreciated boosts wellbeing and resilience. It reminds first responders that their sacrifices matter. That their families' sacrifices matter. And that when the sirens stop, they're not forgotten.
But gratitude alone isn't enough. We must also back it up with real, ongoing support. This means properly funding mental health services for first responders, creating safe, stigma-free workplaces, and acknowledging the toll this job takes not just on individuals, but on families and the wider community.
My wife Liz and I have been married for 37 years. She's stood by me through the toughest parts of this career: late nights, harrowing cases, the loss of our boy, and the rollercoaster of grief. Families like ours carry this burden too. We also need care, community, and acknowledgment.
So this Thank a First Responder Day, I'm not just asking for a thank you. I'm asking for awareness. For compassion. For commitment to change. And for every first responder reading this: raise your hand if you need help. There are people - like Fortem - ready to take it.
It's important we continue building a culture where it's okay not to be okay. Where first responders are supported not just during disasters, but every day after. A world where those who serve don't have to suffer in silence.
Because the bravest thing I ever did wasn't running toward a crime scene. It was speaking up about my pain - and helping others do the same.
To all first responders and your families: thank you. You are not alone. And to every Australian: your words of gratitude, your actions, your donations - they matter more than you know.
For donations and to show your gratitude, visit
After nearly four decades serving with the NSW Police Force - most of it as a detective sergeant in my home town of Dubbo - I've come to realise that while first responders are trained to protect others, we're not always so good at protecting ourselves.
Every day across Australia, police officers, paramedics, firefighters, emergency call operators, and countless volunteers suit up and show up - not knowing what their shift will bring. Some days, it's routine. Other days, it's chaos, tragedy, and trauma. And while we carry out this work with pride and purpose, the mental toll is immense - and often invisible.
One in three first responders experience high or very high psychological distress. Think about that. These are the men and women who run toward danger while others flee. Who deliver the worst news to families. Who carry the memories of the accidents, the suicides, the violence. And still, they show up.
I know the weight of this distress all too well. In 2016, my youngest son Perry died by suicide. He was a builder, a rugby league player, and the light of our lives. Losing him shattered me in ways I can't describe. But it also helped me understand - more than ever - the absolute urgency of supporting the mental health of first responders and their families.
Because behind every uniform is a person. A parent. A partner. A mate. And often, someone silently struggling.
Throughout my career, I've tried to lead with a simple philosophy: If we look after each other, we can get through anything. That means being there for your team, listening without judgment, and recognising that mental strength includes asking for help.
For too long, vulnerability has been seen as weakness in this job. I believed it once too. But I've learned - it ain't weak to speak. In fact, it's one of the bravest things you can do.
After Perry's passing, I became involved with LIVIN, an organisation working to break the stigma around mental health, especially among men and tradies. In his honour, I started hosting annual Tradies Breakfasts to promote the message: "It ain't weak to speak". Today, I continue this advocacy as an ambassador through Fortem Australia, a not-for-profit supporting the mental health and wellbeing of first responders and their families.
Fortem's work is critical. It fills a gap that existed when I first joined the force in 1988 - back then, mental health was hardly even a footnote in the job. Today, Fortem runs clinical support programs, social connection activities, mental health literacy training, and career management services. They're on the ground helping people not just survive their career, but live fully throughout it.
This year's sixth annual Thank a First Responder Day is June 11, 2025. The idea is simple, but powerful: show first responders and their families that they are seen, valued and appreciated.
From school shout-outs and community barbecues, to illuminated landmarks and social media messages, it's a moment for the nation to say, "We see you. We thank you. We're with you".
Saying thank you isn't just polite - it's protective. Research shows that feeling appreciated boosts wellbeing and resilience. It reminds first responders that their sacrifices matter. That their families' sacrifices matter. And that when the sirens stop, they're not forgotten.
But gratitude alone isn't enough. We must also back it up with real, ongoing support. This means properly funding mental health services for first responders, creating safe, stigma-free workplaces, and acknowledging the toll this job takes not just on individuals, but on families and the wider community.
My wife Liz and I have been married for 37 years. She's stood by me through the toughest parts of this career: late nights, harrowing cases, the loss of our boy, and the rollercoaster of grief. Families like ours carry this burden too. We also need care, community, and acknowledgment.
So this Thank a First Responder Day, I'm not just asking for a thank you. I'm asking for awareness. For compassion. For commitment to change. And for every first responder reading this: raise your hand if you need help. There are people - like Fortem - ready to take it.
It's important we continue building a culture where it's okay not to be okay. Where first responders are supported not just during disasters, but every day after. A world where those who serve don't have to suffer in silence.
Because the bravest thing I ever did wasn't running toward a crime scene. It was speaking up about my pain - and helping others do the same.
To all first responders and your families: thank you. You are not alone. And to every Australian: your words of gratitude, your actions, your donations - they matter more than you know.
For donations and to show your gratitude, visit
