The story that made me certain that I was doing the exact job I was meant to do this lifetime.

Holy fuck. 

The story that rattled me, shook me to my core and made me certain that I was doing the exact job I was meant to do this lifetime, happened years ago. 

At a time when I lacked confidence, was hesitant to fully step into my role and truly questioned “why me”, “why was I born with this gift?” “What makes me any more special than the next person?” 

I don’t doubt this anymore, I know I am exactly where I am supposed to be and this client was one of the first to solidify that. I no longer question the gifts I was born with.

It was like any call.  It opened with small banter, some excitement to talk and both of us eagerly waiting to see how this call played out. The first 10 min were nondescript, some ah ha moments, some interesting stories, stories of meeting their husband, getting married, stories of finally having a child, a little girl and navigating the balance between work, partnership and newfound motherhood. Then the story of all stories hit. It came about when I asked about her most recent date, another marker in time, an indicator of how her life has played out thus far. She faltered, my breath caught as I awaited her words, and then her voice was different, it was smaller, farther away, and the best description would be in shock.

Her words fell out of her mouth fast. “Are you sure? This was one of the hardest and scariest times in my life. This changed everything about motherhood for me in a blink of an eye.” I reassured her that this was indeed the date, it was significant to her story and if she felt comfortable I was here to listen. The next sentences came out muddled and cloaked in tears, her breath was shaking but she was determined to tell this story. I listened with kind silence, my only goal was to hold space for her, let her know that I was there, my job became listening. 

I’ll paraphrase the words she spoke.

“It was just another day. We had woken up, had breakfast and were planning to have a mellow morning until appointments that afternoon. I was multitasking. Watching my daughter get dressed and responding to messages online. There was a message request on my private Facebook page. It was a mom from one of the support groups I am a part of, asking advice about night training and the kids little potty I use. Over the years I had gotten many of these, one no different than the next. I responded casually. The dialogue led to me sending a picture of the potty and then talking about the versatility. The hairs on the back of my neck started to stand up. Some part of me wanted to share this next picture, it was the versatility of the potty, it was my daughter using the potty at a park last summer. I had a gut feeling as I chose the photo that her face needed to be staring away from the camera, every part of me knew that her privates needed to be covered and the location of where the photo was taken needed to be unobvious. I needed to protect her identity, yet I still felt the need to send it. The response was repulsive, nothing a mother would ever say. I immediately blocked them. Later I had a friend look into their profile, everything checked out, seemingly another mom just asking advice. Then they called me. They had gone to their page and on their stories was the photo of my daughter. The photo I had sent. My heart dropped, my breath stuck in my chest. I went into action. 

I had a friend in cyber security, one that had just crossed my path weeks before. What were the chances? I sent him screenshots, the profile and the picture. Within minutes he confirmed my inclinations. This was what I feared, what my instincts had told me before any facts added up. This account was seeking child porn. Lots happened after this, I trusted in knowing that by sharing this information with the right people, I was doing the right thing. I was told I was brave, I was told that I had been smart. I was told the photo would never come back, it was gone forever. I was a shell of a human for days, I had such a hard time allowing my daughter to be a victim of my mistake.”

At this point of the story I am floored. Pretty sure my face hid nothing, one of those times I am thankful for the audio only structure of my sessions. I was encouraging her to continue, giving my genuine reaction but holding my breath along with her. Somehow I felt if I made one poor response, one wrong reaction, she would be done. I felt for her, the need to get this story out, to have someone listen start to finish. 

Then she continued…

“Weeks passed and I got no update. I was told that I had done the right thing, but these cases typically lead nowhere. Dead ends…and to expect nothing back. A week after I got an update that the case had been turned over to Law enforcement authorities.  Thankfully, the people who targeted me were nowhere near me. They were getting good leads but it wasn’t getting them far. I surrendered again, giving myself the conclusion that this was as good as it would get.”

She paused. She stopped dead in her story and the phone line suspended us in time. There was no air in the room. I nearly jumped in. I nearly interjected, feeling the weight of time that had kept us in this story for longer than usual. I was conscious of wanting to give her insight during our time together. Something made me wait, sit in that uncomfortable silence and take a breath for both of us. Then she began again…

“It was nearly a month after all this started when I got a call from my friend. His voice was light, I never expected to hear the words he spoke; ‘your daughter's photo was posted again last week’.

(both our breaths caught at his words - I felt like I was no longer in a session, I felt like I was in a movie, listening to the cliffhanger, waiting for the conclusion)

“…It was photoshopped, looked nothing like her, different color hair, different background and clearly fake’. He told me it was their way of announcing a profile had been burned. This account would be going dormant, like a fucking sleeper agent, and they would be activating another sick fucking account. I wanted to scream, yell, get loud. My friend continued. But they didn’t know they were being watched. People still visited the site, and the law enforcement people were able to track those. One of the profiles who visited had similar likes, they followed the trail of breadcrumbs. It led to a location.” 

I couldn't breathe, she started to cry, I wasn’t far behind. 

“My friend paused, he was still so light hearted about it, like he was sharing the weather. The profile turned out to be a ‘head of a snake…’ “

(these are the words I remember like she spoke them to me yesterday not years ago. The imagery of snakes with multiple heads, and they had found one. The shit of nightmares was true and she was sharing her reality).

“…The head of the snake had a location. My friend continued on. There was a raid and 10 children, 9 and under were saved this weekend.”

We are both visibly sobbing, I was trying so hard to keep my tears quiet. Her voice was nearly inaudible now.

“Everything that had happened. How scared I was for my family, for my daughter. All of it was worth it. Her photo, my actions, had saved children. Real children. Children who would have otherwise been lost in human trafficking and child pornography, were saved, because… because of me.”

“Holy fuck.” That is all I say. I am returning to my body. This isn't a movie. This is my client. This is real life. This is the definition of a holy fuck moment. 

Years ago. This was years ago. This was when my own child was still too young for me to fully relate. This wasn’t just a story, this was her story, her reality, and I will never forget. 

This was a moment of impact. She concluded by saying,

“Besides my friend in cyber security and my family, I haven’t told a soul before you. I have no idea who you are but I do know you have a gift. Thank you for seeing me, thank you for holding space. Thank you for doing this work.”

She has since become a regular weekly client, utilizing SoleRx and continuing the work we started together years ago. Our time is always important, her story has never left me. I know I am here for a reason.

This is my job, this is my sole purpose and this is the gift of the collective.