Once upon a time ago, I left work at work. Sure, I shared stories about the craziness that is my job, but the details were left at work. I could effectively leave the heartache, the pain, the trauma at work.
Not so much these days. Trauma sits in the passenger seat during my drive home. Trauma makes itself at home in my mind and settles in my heart. Trauma teases my tear ducts. Trauma haunts my dreams. Yes, I'm a therapist that specializes in trauma but I wasn't prepared for the amount of trauma my kids are dealing with right now. They share stories, poems, collages, journal entries. Sometimes it all feel surreal- almost like I'm watching a movie. But when I focus in on the voice and the eyes in front of me, it is all too real.
I don't believe that Trauma is leading toward burn-out. Instead, Trauma is reminding me why it is I do what I do. I have created a safe place where teens can share the worst of the worst. I have been gifted with the ability to ask the right questions, and to keep my mouth closed when I need to listen. And I have hope- hope that one day Trauma will no longer win.
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