I am exhausted.
My body aches from the stress and the long hours. My mind hurts from the non-stop adrenaline needed to stay on top of my work.
But there will be no rest for me these three days off. We are seriously short of staff and I have to work overtime just to try to keep a handle on my cases.
I feel like such a failure.
I know that’s not rational. After all, I am doing the best that I can. But what if I miss something? How can I juggle each of these families, many in crisis, all with unique needs, and get their cases wrapped up while more and more new cases get assigned to me?
And I do all of this with no relief in sight. The soonest our unit will get an additional, fully trained investigator is September. Until investigators are fully trained, they can provide support, but they are limited in the kinds of tasks they can do.
Our bigwigs show us how grateful they are for killing ourselves by scheduling a cookout, then cancelling it because it rained. It was not rescheduled. Then they scheduled for us a getaway at a resort an hour away, but it’s for the second half of the day on day one and the first half of the day on day two. And we will still be assigned cases on those days. So it’s really not a getaway so much as a punishment.
For my sanity, I’m scrolling through the daily Indeed job recommendations and applying for anything I feel I’m remotely qualified to do. It’s not much of a job search, but it gives me hope that my life won’t be this way forever. I feel like I’m one of the children of Israel awaiting the day God leads my people out of Egyptian bondage.
Until that day of sweet release, I will continue to exercise to keep up my physical and mental health. I’ll continue to walk my dog, because that is the equivalent of meditation for me. I will pet a cat when I lie down at night and when I awaken in the morning.
And I will pray that someone calls me to interview for a job.