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Posted by on May 14, 2024 in Blog | 2 comments

How Do They Do What They Do?

 

 

I was speaking with someone recently–who shall remain anonymous. This person does social work–more specifically in the mental health field. This person deals with tragic situations almost daily. Many of the patients’ circumstances are heartbreaking. I won’t go into detail, but some of the stories mental health professionals must deal with day in and day out are excruciating. I’m speaking about real HORRORS.

Following our conversation, I thought more about what it must be like to do that kind of a job. I wanted to ask how someone could possibly separate *work* from a home life. In other words, when their day is done how does someone go home at night and manage to block out those terrible things that happened (and in many cases are still happening) and live a “normal” life?

This isn’t really the same thing as PTSD, which is a common affliction among veterans and others who faced unbearable tragedies in wartime. That’s because with most PTSD cases the disturbing event occurred in the past. It’s over. But when social work professionals deal with deeply troubled people and their tragic circumstances, they must know that when they leave at the end of a day many of their patients’ troubles are just beginning. Days can be long, but the nights can be longer. And tomorrow will bring a new set of victims and their problems.

I’ve shared these thoughts before. Admittedly, I couldn’t do those kinds of jobs. I don’t know how you shut off emotions or “clock out.” Surely, seeing suffering and misery daily must take a toll. When most of us stop woking, our day is finished. But what about those who try to help victims of abuse? Do they think about the patients they saw earlier that day?

I’m curious to know what coping mechanisms are used to separate work from home. It seems that some forced separation is mandatory, if only for self-preservation.

Still, I wonder how they do it and also manage to keep optimistic, or even sane given the constant deluge of struggles they witness. Domestic abuse. Child abuse. Animal abuse. Cruelty has no end.

Comments welcome, especially from those who have to deal with these issues.

Finally, let me sincerely THANK all of those remarkable people who do this work that must be so difficult, yet is essential. There should be far more recognition for your noble efforts, and undoubtedly–greater awareness of your personal sacrifices.

2 Comments

  1. My father was a child psychiatrist. He was beloved by his patients and their parents. He was often distant and authoritarian with his family. He required a HIGH standard for us that he set upon himself. I often remember him leaving the dinner table for hours long phone conversations. We had big vacations and great family weekends, where he was successful at leaving it all behind. I often felt like I didn’t live up to his expectations.. but I never doubted he loved me. He had a huge heart, I believe anyone in that profession must. Finally, I never got away with anything, as so many of my high school aquaintences were patients…. and they would tell them,
    “oh, I saw Sarah at that party!” Busted and grounded!

  2. Seeing people struggling in the throes of absolute hell at work makes it much easier to be intensely grateful for having a semi-normal, stable home life.
    In a perverse way, it’s an advantageous reminder to have consistent gratitude rather than being in a never-ending greedy, hungry state of ‘wanting more’, an endless hamster wheel designed to have no resolution.

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