Hard Lessons and Warm Reminders

It's Thanksgiving Eve, and I'm exhausted. It was a marathon day at work, and my 7 year old son can attest to that. Working at a homeless shelter/coalition provides daily challenges, and lessons. It had been a long day, and I put too much stock in the hopes that the end of the day would calm. I picked up my son (Thanksgiving vacation always throws a wrench in the works), and I figured he could weather the last two and a half hours of the day with me in my office.

My poor little empathic baby got overwhelmed.

At first, it was just busy. Donations coming in although we weren't accepting them (hint, we did accept them all, short staffed and all). Phone calls for intake, general inquiries, all the normal day to day chaos. Then 4:30 happened. A client in crisis came to us. She was the epitome of complete and utter despair. She looked at me, asked me several time through tear streaked face, "what am I supposed to do?" I had no answer for her. I looked to my 7 year old son. He looked at me, and I could feel is anguish. He wanted to know what was going on, but he knew not to. He knew that her big emotions were too much to handle, and that is inquiry wasn't appropriate for her to answer. You could see the conflict on his face. He wanted to tell her that "It's gonna be okay," but didn't. Because he didn't know. I pulled my eyes from him, afraid of what he might think when I tell her that I don't have any options for her. She asked me again with urgency. The only thing I could tell her was, "I don't have an answer for you. I wish I did, but I don't." I then ushered my son away with his tablet to sit in the shelter manager's office while we all worked on this crisis.

All Hands On Deck

We were supposed to leave at 5, but the clock kept on. The crisis wasn't over, and the tears were rolling. Doors were closing, as the options dwindled. It became very clear that just 'shelter' wasn't going to be the fix. All the things that needed to be done, that needed to be in place were all long term things. Seeing someone in crisis being presented options that aren't their expectations and being denied is extremely frustrating, sad, and defeating. BUT... these are not my burdens to carry. You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make them drink regardless of how desperate they are. I knew at that moment I needed to remove myself. I needed to check on my son.

He sat there with a smile on his face waiting to ask me questions. His understanding of the situation was impressive for not knowing the circumstances and also for only being 7. His maturity with such tender matters is truly impressive, and I let him know this. It was nearly 6pm, the night before Thanksgiving, and we needed to go to the grocery store, and to make dinner. He was hungry, I was tired, and we needed to leave. The assistant shelter manager and the assistant director of social services granted me leniency, and told me to go home. As the three minds then dwindled to two, I collected my things and left.

That crisis was not mine, and I didn't need to shoulder it. The lesson wasn't mine, but I knew there were takeaways.

Burning bridges: Sometimes we ask for help, and sometimes we give assistance. These exchanges, when they go sour, test our bridges. They ignite a fire. It stirs, and eventually rages. As the embers cool, you see the damage. There's nothing that can be done to fix the damage, and to rebuild costs too much emotional, financial, and mental burden. When asking for help, do so with caution, and don't bite the hand that feeds you. When giving help, don't judge or criticize. offer unbiased, unwavering support.

Carrying burdens: Don't expect others to carry it for you. Sometimes people will want to help you, but don't expect them to solve your problems. Don't create a shitshow then try to pawn it off on others. Carry your shit, take care of it, sort it out, and then lay it down. Walk away when your work is done.

Be proactive rather than reactive: This can be tough, but you, and only you can make the decision to do your work. Don't stick your head in the sand and expect things to disappear.


This was a hard event for me, but even harder for the woman experiencing it. I'll  hold space with her, but I am not carrying her hard lessons for her. I have my own to carry.

How about you?