I'm not gonna lie;

it's hard.

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;

it's hard.