Sometimes someone hurts you so bad, you stop hurting at all. Until something makes you feel again, and then it all comes back.

Today I sat in a courtroom while I looked at one of the teenagers I work with testify against her father. The person she had trusted to take care of her had raped her.

Although she had a large group of supporters sitting in the gallery, she seemed so alone on the witness stand. As I saw her tears of sadness, turn into words of anger, I couldn't help but feel the transfer of feelings upon me. She had been victimized and now she had to re-call all of the details of her abuse. I felt sick to my stomach hearing the pain she had gone through. My eyes swelled with tears and my jaw clenched as the defense attorney tried to confuse her.

I admired the strength it took for her to stand there and tell her story to the public, her family, and her friends. But I also know that her life is changed for ever. The person she once called father, will never be that to her. Her innocent childhood was stolen away and replaced with weekly therapy sessions and long working hours to avoid thinking about what happened.

As a social worker, I have had my heart wrenching moments-and today was one of those days. But seeing the sense of relief that came from my client after her testimony, made me realize that she is a resilient and strong individual. And it gave me a sense of hope and realization that one day her golden cheer will return.

You Would Never Know

She was 6 years old. She witnessed her stepmother get pushed down the stairs by her father. She held on to the baby covered in blood that came out of her stepmothers womb. She said, "Oh no mommys doll baby came out." Her father ran down the stairs, pulled the dead baby from her arms, and put a gun to her head. He told her "Never tell anyone our business-or I will pull the trigger next time. She stopped trusting. She stopped talking. She was six.

She is 14. Magnet school. Straight A's. Athletic. An artist. You see her laugh without a care in the world. She loves joking with you. You would never know that she was that same 6 year old.

My Wealth

As a child did you ever go to bed hungry-because there was not enough money for food?

I did.

As a child did you ever watch your single mother work 3 jobs just to buy you a pair of tennis shoes?

I did.

As a child did you ever have to lay on the floor because of a gun fight going on between gangs?

I did.

I learned very early in my life what it meant to be wealthy. I watched classmates eat while I went hungry. I watched kids show off their new school clothing as I wore hand-me-downs and off brand shoes. I went to a school in California surrounded by gang involvement. All I wanted to have as a kid was enough money for my family to eat, to have my mom stay home to be with my siblings and I, and to feel safe.

As I grew up, my mother remarried, we had more money, we ate, and we moved to a safer area. I realized that even having a little bit more money did not change what my definition was of wealth.

To me I was always wealthy. I had the love of family and friends. I had teachers who inspired me. My family had friends who reached out and helped. You see my wealth was love. Because even without all the material things, I always had the support and care of people. People who did not judge me for what I didn't have. And got to know me for my character. 

As I continue to work with foster youth I strive to present them with conversation, care, and a sense of hope. I let them know that the real value of life is not in monetary value but in the strength of the relationships they acquire through the years. This to me is why I became a social worker.

Always,

Emily