What “Safe Spaces” Means in Mental Health Treatment for Veterans & First Responders
The phrase “safe spaces” seems overused and perhaps even triggering in mental health treatment for Veterans and first responders. After all, if you are dealing with trauma, depression, or other mental health diagnoses, there are no safe spaces. As someone in recovery and a Resident Support Specialist at J.O.H.N. (Just One Hero Needed), I’d like to try to define “safe spaces” because I recognize firsthand the need for environments that foster sharing, learning, and healing without judgment.
“Ultimately, when there’s repeated exposure to trauma, the body releases adrenaline and cortisol, and it doesn’t just sit there stagnant. It builds up in our bodies and our brains over time. If we don’t process these significant events, we start to see release in other ways that aren’t always safe, healthy, or adaptive. An example might be an increase in substance use. We see high rates of maladaptive, unsafe substance use in first responders and Veterans. We see ongoing isolation, agitation, frustration, and hopelessness.” Sanford Behavioral Health Clinical Director, Tessa Sterling, LMSW, LCSW
Safe Spaces: Trained to Survive
The clients we serve at JOHN are a very specific niche; first responders and military personnel are trained to perform in inherently dangerous conditions. When they clock in, answer a call, or report for duty, they are literally putting their lives on the line. The statistics for this population are alarming: an estimated 30% of first responders develop conditions including depression and PTSD. Meanwhile, a nearly equal number of Veterans develop PTSD after returning from combat, and according to the VA, Veterans experience substantially higher rates of suicide than the general population.
Our nervous systems are delicate things; part of their beauty is their adaptability. After years of operating at high levels of stress and what therapists call hypervigilance, first responders grow accustomed to this highly attuned state. In the field, this is a feature, not a bug. But in everyday life, the effects can be crippling. Reactions sharpen. Sleep suffers. Cortisol rises. The alarm bells are ringing. Equilibrium is lost. With a loss of community and no outlet to safely process trauma, many turn inward to substances or other unhealthy coping mechanisms.
Clinical Director Tessa Sterling, Matt VanLiere, and CEO Tessa Sterling on the front steps at JOHN.
Safe Space to Survive
Walking into JOHN, the first thing you notice is the space itself: warm, cozy, lived-in, and cared for. Second, and most importantly, you notice the people. Not just staff, but the fellowship of clients who have come to call this place home for a few weeks. Many clients arrive afraid, unsure, and reluctant. Some are still questioning whether they should be there at all. But after a week, sometimes just days, individuals find their stride. They open up, connect, share, and welcome newcomers with open arms and minds.
A safe space is an environment where the nervous system can finally stop working in overdrive, a space where trust, community, and compassion help people begin to let their guard down. Vulnerability is not weakness in a safe space. In fact, it’s encouraged. Saying “I’m not okay” isn’t a red flag, but rather, a white one. And when it comes to addiction and mental health, surrender isn’t a failing; it is the first step in a journey toward a healthy life.
“An individual can build upon progress. Just tuning in and finding, even in small moments, the ability to be open, transparent, vulnerable about where you’re at and what you endure in your day-to-day life. Hopefully, that is a skill that you can develop further and also model for others. Seeking support does not have to be career-ending. However, not seeking support can absolutely be career-ending and life-ending! Getting help can be the catalyst to continue to access the life that you are so passionate about.” Sanford Behavioral Health Clinical Director, Tessa Sterling, LMSW, LCSW
Community
Isolation is a killer. Addiction and mental illness thrive on convincing people they’re the only ones experiencing their problems. Safe spaces aren’t about protecting people from their experiences; they allow the clarity to process and make peace with them.
When clients are having particularly difficult days, I sometimes tell them I miss rehab. Not the early days of sobriety or the struggle to find myself again, but the group of people I found myself growing with. Intense friendships are formed in just weeks that leave a lifetime impact. Stories shared over games of Euchre, or old reruns of COPS. Co-parenting our therapy dog, Hero (it takes a village). Small talk while washing dishes or doing laundry. The proverbial smoke-break conversation that unexpectedly leads to deeper discussions about family, friends, and life. I see these things every day, the tiny, real bonds forming between scheduled therapy sessions, only possible in a space that fosters unashamed intimacy.
The Coin-Out Ceremony
An hour before a client discharges back into the “real world,” everyone gathers in the group room for our graduation (coin-out) ceremony, where a coin is passed around the group to commemorate completion of the program. There’s a tinge of sadness in the air, fear for some, about the new shot at life waiting beyond these safe walls. The passing of the coin isn’t just symbolic: it’s a physical gesture requiring a literal exchange. People hug and cry, and the coin makes its way around the room until it returns to the person leaving.
For me, the coin-out ceremony is the pinnacle when communal encouragement, hope, and kindness come together with abandon. In that earnest and often tearful moment, people put words to feelings they have never acknowledged. Vulnerability stops feeling dangerous and starts feeling desired.
What Safety Makes Possible
One of the tenets of AA is lending a helping hand to others struggling with addiction. The same goes for mental health; the only way to keep what you have is to give it away. I’ve found that my time in the spaces at JOHN has been just as healing for me as for the clients. We are a team, a squad, a family facing challenges together, sharing stories, scars, and pain.
For me, the “safe space” definition is really a question. What does it take to build environments where people feel safe enough to be honest and human? At JOHN, we believe that healing begins when the guardrails come down, the silence is broken, and people begin to share what they have been carrying.
