Why I Am In Therapy

"Doctor, My Eyes . . ."

I’m in therapy for work-related vicarious trauma, and I suffer from post-traumatic stress. You know John Coffey in the movie “The Green Mile?”

That’s me.

In the work that I do, I have to ingest mentally, emotionally, and even, spiritually a lot of evil, in fact, the worst that human beings do to one another. I represent the child welfare agency in our state charged with protecting children and helping families whose children need the state’s protection . . . from their own families.

The child welfare workers who are criticized from all sides are “damned if they do and damned if they don’t.” It’s my job to bring their cases to court and help them do their jobs, a job that nobody wants, and everybody wishes wasn’t needed . . . except that it is.

And to make matters even harder, the system was never meant to handle the number of cases that come to court as our society slowly unravels under the influences of alcohol, killer drugs, domestic violence, and poverty.

Most of the times, the intervention by the state is constructive and a safe reunification of the children with their families occurs.

Sometimes, the courts need to appoint legal guardians for the children from extended family or friends or kind, big-hearted people who have stepped up to help by taking these “dependent” children into their homes and into their hearts.

Sometimes, the state who I represent must ask the court to terminate the parent’s or parents’ constitutional rights to parent their own children. The state must prove these cases by the second highest burden of proof in our law with clear and convincing evidence and then also prove that termination of parental rights is in the children’s best interests.

Some of my cases leave my psyche and my heart torn apart, and it’s only by the Grace of God and the prayers of His Saints that I am mended again and again to continue doing this hardest, but also most rewarding, job that I’ve ever done in my life. Writing on blogs like this one is therapeutic for me. I’m sorry if I write too much or too often.

Why do I keep doing this job that hurts so much and that most people don’t want?

That’s a good question that I regularly ask myself. I guess one good reason why I keep at it is because my heart and psyche are already all scarred up and it’s better that I do this job than others who’ve not experienced this suffering and, hopefully, never will.

But as bad as my vicarious trauma is, far worse is the first-hand trauma suffered by the first responders, police, fire fighters, and social workers who see the worst of humanity and the devastating damage that can be inflicted upon the must innocent and vulnerable among us.

And far, far worse still is the trauma suffered by little children and teenagers, the ones who Jesus Christ said should be protected and allowed to come to Him.

THIS is my prayer . . . which everyone in the courtroom gets for free.

Maybe that’s the main reason that I am still there.