I am a sensitive person. I don’t mean this in a – I need thousand thread count sheets and my food served at exactly eighty-seven degrees because I’m very delicate and sensitive. I mean I’m a very emotional person, which can make life difficult.
There are books I’d love to read yet I’m afraid to because of how sad or angry I’ll become.
In my job I have kids come and go from my care. Some I’m happy to send on their way, just so long as they go. There are others who are being placed somewhere good, a well arranged foster placement, with healthy family, or sometimes adoptive parents. Then there are those kids who, through issues with the system, are going somewhere that breaks my heart. I will try to avoid venting about that here.
I have co-workers who are able to detach. They care for the kids, have fun with them, and love on them and don’t cry and become depressed when they leave.
I tried to be detached. I just wound up bitchy and resentful, not a fun place for anyone. So I’m trying to open my heart, accept that I’m an emotional person, and I’ll cry when some of them leave, feel betrayed by the system, get depressed, and wallow in self pity. I’m sure all of you will get to read about it here.
I’m not emotionally stable, but I’m not broken, there’s nothing to fix. And maybe someday I’ll learn a few more coping skills or at least make sure I always have a full supply of fine quality chocolates and funny comedy romance novels to get me through the rough times.