When I started out as a caseworker, I have to be honest, I thought there would be more “thank yous” and gratitude.  Perhaps not from parents — but from someone.  Here thirty years later, I can maybe count the thank-yous received on one….maybe two hands. 

Those two words are not something you hear frequently when you work in a field that is inundated with trauma.

But if you look, you can SEE them.   If you are aware, you can FEEL them.  AND occasionally, they come from out of nowhere.  The irony is that I have never been good at accepting thank yous…really compliments of any kind.  I was raised to be humble.  Humble somehow equated to this weird shy brush off and redirection anytime anyone gave me a compliment or said thank you. 

I have learned over the span of my career to hold on to those expressions of gratitude.  To reflect back on them when I am feeling overwhelmed or sad. 

Those sweet little treasures of appreciation are a big part of my resiliency and self-care.

There are a few moments in my career that I hold onto as testaments to me that what I do now and what I have done in the past matters.  They came later in my career.  Not surprisingly, after I left my role as a caseworker behind.

Have you ever noticed that when you need to hear something or feel validated the universe has a weird habit of almost always delivering that to you wrapped up in a bow?  And really this can happen in all walks of life.  We need to be still.  We need to be alert.  If we are not, we can miss it.  Sometimes it is subtle reassurance and sometimes it is in your face!

I was a new mother and working many hours.  My husband, at that time, traveled a lot for his work.  My toddler son was spending large amounts of time in daycare and with the babysitter.  I was also at a point in my career where I was doing both administrative work and still doing forensic interviews.  Some days there was just a whirlwind of stress and chaos.

This particular day was just before Halloween.  I ran into Big Lots to buy some decorations to put up at home on my way to pick up my son.  Big Lots had just opened a store on the way to my son’s daycare.  It still had that brand-new look and all the shelves were organized.  I picked up a few things I was pretty sure would delight my son.

I handed the cashier my card to pay for my purchases.  She read the card.  She stopped and stared at me.  Like one of those full-on stares into my eyes.  It seemed like an eternity.  Probably was like five seconds.  Her eyes welled up with tears.  She quietly whispered; I know you.

There was a line of people waiting to pay for their newfound treasures.  I had gotten this before.  I always let people figure out where they know me from. They usually list church, or say, “You’re so and so’s friend.”  I usually just say something like, “I just have one of those faces” or “I don’t think I know them.”  Or some version of this.  Usually, I walk off before it dawns on them where they know me from.

I want people to have their peace.  To know their stories are kept confidential.

She insisted.  When she handed me my card back, she grabbed my hand and held it. I looked up at her and she was full-on crying at this point. She then said, “Thank you”.  I smiled and sort of nodded my head.  She then said, “You saved my daughter’s life and I will always be thankful.”  I stood there a moment longer.  She told me that she needed me to know that her daughter was okay.  She was okay and both of them were safe now.  I smiled awkwardly and said I was so glad.

I then walked out to my truck and full-on cried.  I did not remember her daughter.  I did not remember her mom.  It is too much of a burden to remember all the stories, but you do carry their trauma.

I cried mostly because I felt guilty for not remembering.  I cried because I felt guilty about being away from my son so much.  I cried because I was overwhelmed by her gratitude.  I cried because that day she helped me identify my value.

I cried because I knew this would be one of those treasures I would need to remember when I felt I could no longer carry the burdens of my job.

Another more recent affirmation came around Christmas time a few months ago.  My husband called me to tell me he had gotten a weird call from someone who said I was their caseworker when he was a kid.  He asked my husband to tell me “thank you.”  He did not leave a number.  He left a name, but it was not the name he went by as a child when I knew him.  I was stunned.  I had not heard from this child since 1996 or 97.

His family was not an easy family to work with.  It was this weird out of nowhere call.  I hauled this kid all over the state of Louisiana.  He blew out of placements.  His siblings blew out of placements.  Memories of working with this child, his humor, his stubbornness, his quirky smile, his pain-filled eyes flashed through me like bolts of lightning.   

I did end up tracking down a number and talking to him. (Actually, give credit where credit is due.  My husband did the detective work and found a number.)  Not to hear thank you, but to confirm that he was okay and is doing alright in life. 

Another treasure to carry with me when I feel I can no longer carry the burdens of my job.

If you do this work those treasures are there.  Look for them.  When I left my last job to move to beautiful Oregon to take my dream job, my colleagues threw me a going-away party.  Two things stood out for me.  And they were not expected and not something I had ever even really thought two seconds about. 

One, a DHS supervisor came to me to thank me for helping her when she was a new supervisor trying to find her way.  She actually pulled me away from the party to an interview room…which seemed somehow fitting to end my career in the “small room”.   She had a hard time learning her supervisory skills.  There were a lot of complaints by both our partners and her staff.  I remember meeting with her a couple of times to talk about things.  I actually felt bad about having to have those conversations as they were not easy.  She felt supported and enough to thank me. 

The other standout from my “going away” party I remembered clearly when one of my colleagues brought it to my attention.  There was a really bad case being handled at the Center.  I won’t go into the details of the case, but there was a lot of disagreement between supervisors and detectives and caseworkers on how to handle the case. 

Something went really wrong.  I was a supervisor by then and I was not “working with” the team but had walked in to check on how I could be helpful and to check on what was currently happening.  The family had been at the Center all day.  By now it was 5 pm and I was trying to figure out how to plan for staff and for childcare for my own son — as it was clear no one was going home soon.  I was informed of the tragedy and there was a lot of anger and accusations being thrown around about who had let this tragic ending play out.  I quietly said, “None of this is helpful.  No one wanted this to happen and everyone was following policy.  Let’s focus on what is next.” 

I left the room because I felt like I may have crossed the lines with some people I liked very much.  I stayed the entire night to support staff and the team.  I stayed busy sitting with children and calling in other team partners.  One of the team from that night told me at my going away party that my comments and “leadership” changed the conversation and refocused the team on helping the family and those children. 

That little treasure has helped me feel confident in many situations that are uncomfortable. 

These happen to be “my little treasures”.  Everyone has them.  This work is hard. 

Sometimes you will have a child thank you but usually not, as they don’t always understand the magnitude of what you are doing to help them.  They are steeped in trauma and focused on surviving.  The parents won’t always say thank you because they are not happy, generally speaking, with the system being involved.  Sometimes your team will not say thank you because of their own secondary trauma, other stresses, or the laser focus on their case and wanting good outcomes. 

I carry these little treasures in my heart to remind me of why I do this incredibly difficult work.  Find your treasures. I bet you have already had these moments happen in your career.  

Be still.  Be alert.  Don’t miss them.  They will carry you through.