Not the "OMG, did I just 'clear' some kid to go home
and get raped again or killed" hard
that I had in the ER;
just the "banging your head against a brick wall,
loosening a brick or two -
only to find they've reinforced it overnight
plus added a few more layers" hard
of dealing with systems
that actively - and passively -
resist all change.
The daily grind of having too much to do;
the majority of which is outside
both my control AND my comfort zone
and is someones else's job to boot.
Not listening daily to multiple stories of sexual abuse
but seeing those same kids,
removed from their families for their own safety
but feeling rejected and struggling
in home after home,
desperate to belong;
desperate to know someone loves them.
There are all kinds of hard.
There are all kinds of ways of being broken open
by being witness to children's pain.
I've simply found a new way
and I'm not gonna lie;