By Tammi Pitzen, Executive Director of the Children’s Advocacy Center of Jackson County
By Tammi Pitzen, Executive Director of the Children’s Advocacy Center of Jackson County
The Holidays Hit Different
This is story #15 in Tammi Pitzen’s series of 30 stories from her 30 years working in child welfare.
You can read all the stories here.
This series is a reflection over a 30 plus year career in child abuse interventions. Some are stories that help to understand real life impacts of
that career and vicarious trauma. Some stories are just that. Stories of pivotal moments in that career that propelled me to continue the
work even when it seemed impossible.
The Holidays Hit Different
The year-end holiday season has always hit differently for me since I began my career in child protection in December 1990. Before that, I experienced the holidays like most people: a time filled with lights, laughter, and family traditions. My mom loved the holidays and always made them seem magical and special for us kids. But after entering this field, the season took on a different weight, one that I still feel decades later.
It seems there’s always a heartbreaking case right before, or even on, the holidays. The severity of these cases, combined with the timing, tends to capture the attention of everyone involved: the investigators, caseworkers, law enforcement, medical staff, and others who bear witness to the painful details. But that’s not the only reason the holidays affect me differently now.
Trauma Doesn’t Follow a Calendar
Abuse doesn’t take a break for the holidays, or any other time of the year. There are children who were abused in June who still carry the same pain and confusion in December. The trauma doesn’t disappear just because the world is wrapped in twinkling lights and festive cheer. For those children, the season can stir up powerful reminders of what they’ve endured and of what’s missing.
It also hits differently because of the dedicated professionals who spend their days confronting those realities. Each of us tries to step away from the work long enough to be fully present with our families; to enjoy the holidays without being haunted by what we’ve seen. But it’s never that easy.
You Don’t Leave This Work Unchanged
I am not the same person I was before I began this work.
You can’t stay the same after a young child tells you they’re afraid Santa won’t find them because they had to move to a new home for safety. You can’t stay the same when a child asks if you’ll come to their school holiday concert because no one else can.
And you can’t stay the same after watching a mother hand over her child’s belongings on Christmas Eve, tears streaming down her face, while also handing you a holiday card addressed to “Ms. Tammi and Family.” That particular mother will always stay with me. Removing children from their homes never feels good but doing it during the holidays feels especially heavy.
From those early years, I still keep a few small mementos that remind me why this work matters. A snow globe from a girl on my caseload who saved her allowance to buy me something special. A small brass nativity ornament from a child whose brother was killed by their mother. Each year, that ornament still finds a place on my Christmas tree.
I remember receiving one of those gifts and asking a coworker, “What am I supposed to do with this?” She smiled gently and said, “Accept it.”
Today, of course, accepting gifts from children or families we serve would be considered a boundary violation. But back then, in our small rural community, those tokens meant something profound. For many children, we were the only ones who showed up for them. Those modest gifts picked from the shelves of a dollar store were their way of saying thank you.
Every year, our community comes together to provide gifts for children who have experienced abuse, some living in foster care, others with parents struggling to rebuild after trauma shattered their family. The generosity we see from local businesses, churches, and individuals is overwhelming. But what moves me most is that these children are not forgotten. While they feel invisible; erased by their abuse, the outpouring from the Children’s Advocacy Center of Jackson County supporters reminds them they are in fact seen.
Amidst all of the heartbreak, this outpouring of kindness reminds me of something I’ve learned again and again throughout my career: there is so much good in the world.
And that gives me hope.
A sincere thank you to Blue Marble, Rogue Disposal Community Bike Build, Grange Co-op, KDRV, Baker-Tilly, John L. Scott, Medford Earth Angels, Southern Oregon Toy Run, Karen Scott, DeAnna Eastman, Linda Hutsell and Alexis Acosta. Your generosity helped make the holidays merry and bright for the youth we serve.