"They can never replace you at home..."

The question I get asked more than any other is ‘how do you manage it all?’

People see my writing commitments, podcast productions, social media posts, full-time job as a frontline social worker, part-time job as an independent social worker, and my development of other projects, and wonder how on earth I fit enough time in for my wife and two young children; there being an assumption that my days are so full, that my passion for social work leaves my family picking up the scraps of what’s left over. The truth, I explain, is the opposite. My wife and children get the best of me, and social work gets the rest of me.

Regardless of how much I have ahead of me in the morning, I get my children ready for nursery and school, and drive them there myself.

Weekends are mostly theirs too, with my bygone beer-fuelled Saturdays as a Newcastle United season ticket holder replaced with junior football club for my son, ballet lessons for my daughter, swimming classes for both, and a family outing to Costco.

My children are my number one priority in life, and nothing comes before them. It wasn’t always this way. In early 2018 I thought it would be a good idea to work away for six months as I was offered an exciting opportunity as a Signs of Safety expert within an improving authority. The experience would do wonders for my CV, the pay was the highest I’d ever had (before or since), and it would be a chance to experience life in a new part of the world. I chose all of those things over my 2-year-old daughter. One early Sunday evening about four months into my role, my daughter held onto my leg and wept as I was getting ready to leave- saying ‘Daddy no go.’ I handed my notice in the next morning and terminated my contract two months early.

Since then, it’s always family first. Unless there is a real-life emergency (not a paperwork or arbitrary deadline emergency, but a situation where someone is in grave need or danger) I work my contracted 37 hours a week. No more, no less. If I can’t complete the tasks expected of me in spite of working as hard as I can, then that is the fault of my employer and not I. They need to give me less work or employ more staff because their business model is unsustainable if it relies upon the goodwill of staff sacrificing their own wellbeing for the sake of propping up an underfunded and inefficient department. My writing, projects, independent social work, and podcasts all take place between 5am-8am, then 8pm-10pm, during unpaid leave from my frontline job, or when I mercifully get to swerve a children’s party where my wife is more than happy to take the lead.

This means that my days are full, but those days are happy and meaningful. Having moved around a number of different local authorities and seen far too many colleagues burnout and drift away from the profession, I’ve learned one thing that rings true throughout: They will replace you at work, but they can’t replace you at home.

If you passed away and moved on tomorrow, there is a strong likelihood that your cases would be reallocated before you were laid to rest in accordance with your wishes. Your seat would be filled, your desk taken, and your assessments and interventions changed. You’d be remembered fondly by those you worked alongside and, from time to time, ex-colleagues would express their sadness at your passing. But that would fade away over time as the old team fell apart and people’s lives moved on.

Your family would miss you forever though. Your place at home could never be filled. Your own children could not be reallocated. All those plans with your partner could never be completed. It is those thoughts, which I bear in mind in a stoic manner, that help set my priorities in social work. I love my job, but I love my wife and children far more. I am committed to my job, but I am committed to my family far more.

My wife and children get the best of me, social work gets the rest of me. They will replace you at work, but they can’t replace you at home.