Not being a mother for a while. Many recognize the need for personal time, and that's perfectly valid. I'm drawn to the woman beyond the mom—what fuels her? Here's Fien's story, a seasoned professional in the prison system.
Every morning, I pass through the metal detector into another world. Locked in a historic facility with hundreds of male inmates, I immerse myself in a unique subculture few outsiders grasp fully.
Russian, Surinamese, Arabic, and a dozen other languages echo through the corridors. Diverse cultures and personalities converge, united by one fact: conviction for a crime.
Most inmates are deeply frustrated with the justice system and its personal toll. This often spills over to my colleagues and me. Early on, it overwhelmed me, but now I let them vent for 15 minutes, acknowledge their feelings, and gently remind them they'd avoid this if they hadn't, say, assaulted their neighbor. It usually de-escalates. Of course, each case demands a tailored approach, considering the individual's personality and cognitive abilities.
I love my job, though it's tough at times—like reviewing files involving crimes against children. Over years, I've honed a mental switch to separate the acts from the person in conversation, enabling professional detachment.
Yet, some images haunt me. Once, a horrific photo made me physically ill and brought tears at my desk. Thankfully, supportive colleagues are there for these moments.
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What fascinates me are chats with textbook narcissists or psychopaths—their thinking patterns are riveting, if not pro-social. That's why they sit across my desk. It's an exhilarating yet exhausting career.
Confronted daily with grim crimes and detainees' tragic backgrounds, I leave drained but return home thrilled to switch off and be mommy to my two little rascals.
