The flip side of being a professional eavesdropper

I love my job, it’s wonderful. I get to help connect people to the outside world, which is so very nice, but…

Ever since I got out of the crisis unit, it’s been harder to be here. It’s harder to hear the pain and suffering of others. It’s harder to have to repeat slurs that are used to cut people down. It’s hard to listen to the isolation, death, hardships, tears… I feel trapped. I can’t get off the phones. I can’t run. I can’t quit. I need the job, I need the money, my family needs the money, whether I live there or not.

I’m searching for another job right now, but in the mean time, I have to deal with all the dark things, and it’s become so incredibly difficult.

This job doesn’t do well for my head, so I need to do well for my head. I have to keep myself safe, and hold myself after a hard day working here. I have to tell myself that it’s okay, that I’m okay. Reassure myself that it’s okay to be sad for these people, but I must not allow it to ravage me with a soul crushing depression.

I need to be better.

For my children.

For my husband.

But most of all, for me.

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