This week has been a really long, hard week at work. At the risk of sounding too vague and impersonal, all I can really say is that I was part of a system that got a child molester arrested. It may sound like a triumph, but I’ve been working with this particular family for over a year, and this working relationship has meant something to me, as well as to them. All I know is, nothing is ever in black and white, it’s never as easy as it looks, and “protecting children” doesn’t come easy, nor does it come without a price to pay for the family in question. While I know everything that happened was good, and that it must be done, I can’t help but feel an incredible loss nonetheless. This work.. if it doesn’t kill me, it will make me stronger. It has made me stronger. I come home exhausted everyday, but I look at Dave and he calls me a superhero, and his face just expresses how proud he is of me.

All the hard decisions, the hard choices I have to make at work. All the court hearings and the legal proceedings and the advocacy for kids and families — this must all mean something at the end of the day. And it does. I am exhausted to the bone, but the more I do this work, the more I feel like I’m preparing myself to be a really good mother.

I was supposed to take today off, to catch up on paperwork and filing and stuff. But I’m choosing to go visit one of my kiddos in jail because he has been asking for me, his counselor. He doesn’t talk to anyone else but me, and as much as I don’t want a dependent client, I also know that he is at his most vulnerable and I need to be there so that he can let it out.

I used to cry a lot when I come home from work. I don’t anymore. Perhaps I have lost that emotional touch that makes it so hard for so many people to do what I do for a living. But I don’t feel like it. It still weighs on me, but I know that if I take it personally, I won’t be of any help to anyone. Now, instead of crying, I consult with my peers, my supervisors, and other therapists. Now, instead of crying, I come home to a smiling husband who opens his arms so wide to hold me while I shake it off and go on with the rest of my life. And at the end of the day, as my head hits the pillow every night, I know I’ve done something good. I know I’ve made a difference. I have to believe that.