Their days are spent being the rock for those at rock bottom - hearing horror stories and seeing pain first-hand. Those who have to be strong for everyone else share how they look after their own wellbeing for Mental Health Awareness Week.
"Some days I look out the window thinking what the f***, did I just see that, did I just hear that?"
In moments like these, Tauranga Women's Refuge manager Hazel Hape pops on her gumboots and tells the team she's going to the beach.
The working environment they've created means when there are moments like this, the team can take some time to refresh.
"Because of the violence and trauma [women and children] are experiencing, our workers get an insight into what that looks like, sounds like, and feels like.
"At the end of the day, we're all people ... It's going to impact any human being who's working in any space where there's trauma."
Since March last year, the intensity of domestic violence increased two-fold because of Covid-19 and there was a "significant" increase in mental health and wellbeing hardships, she said.
To manage their wellbeing, the team had daily karakia and waiata, and stopped work for an hour on Tuesday and Thursday to go for a walk or yoga, and have healthy lunch days together.
Hape said the team was staggered to allow four-day working weeks since the pandemic, and those who liked to work from home were able to.
"That's just one small way of acknowledging that they're valued ... We forget that in our helping people and trying to save lives, we're asking a lot of workers."
All practitioners had to see an external supervisor to help with their wellbeing and
burnout was managed and prevented by sticking to their roles - they did not try to be mental health practitioners, doctors, nurses, or police.
Team building was also important, she said, and they did things like the escape room and fishing to take the focus off of the work they do.
"If we look after our workers, we can look after our family and whānau."
There's a lot of joking and laughing among staff at Tauranga Living Without Violence.
There has to be - the things they deal with daily can be confronting, Karina Liddicoat said.
They work with victims and perpetrators of domestic violence - men, women, and children - in a group as well as one-on-one settings.
One of the caseworkers and facilitators Niki Wade explained vicarious trauma could happen in their line of work - second-hand trauma that can build up over time if left unaddressed.
This could show up as overthinking and internalising, identifying with the trauma, and not being able to separate professional from personal.
They needed to make a conscious effort to stop their work influencing how they viewed the world and their analysis of the people and situations around them.
Fellow staff member Susan Robb said there was open communication between caseworkers and team leaders, and staff felt like they could speak to someone if they needed.
Charlotte Fairhurst said self-care and boundaries were "probably one of the most important things".
She said compartmentalising helped - taking the time on the drive home to leave the work behind and practice the self-care they taught their clients.
One of the policies within the organisation was a ban on taking work phones home and there is peer, cultural, and internal, and external supervision.
"Although our job is really serious, and we're working with life or death situations at times, we make a conscious effort to share the load and check in with each other," Liddicoat said.
This included laughing yoga, having lunch together, having waiata, and singing, on top of supporting one another.
"We try not to take ourselves too seriously ... our jobs can be very heavy."
The team also has access to safety alarms and regular health and safety reviews.
Lockdown was difficult for the caseworkers, and the importance of the policies and practices at work to keep their mental health in check became clear.
Not having the physical boundary between work and home reinforced the need to have good boundaries.
Each week, families and individuals were coming to the service with the stress of being unable to put food on the table, with more people not even able to live week to week any more.
Rotorua Whakaora's Elmer Peiffer said he and his wife, Gina, worked seven days a week with a staff of 10 working a varying number of days.
While it was a heavy workload, seeing what their work did for the community made the fatigue worth it, he said.
One of many examples was the gratitude across the face of one of the men who received a piece of T-bone steak from the couple.
When they first dedicated their lives to helping people put food on the table, there were tears and sadness from being exposed to what the families were exposed to, he said.
"Everyone has troubles ... you have to set that aside and focus on the relief and joy that the clients are going to get when they see they're going to get food security.
He said it was crucial for them to compartmentalise the "heartbreaking" stories they heard.
"You have to have strong mental health ... You can't take on other people's troubles yourself because you will just break down and fall to pieces."
He said it was a balancing act of showing compassion and understanding but not going as far as to "take it on and try and be a miracle worker and try and be a miracle fix".
"You need to understand that their troubles are their own. You can help them through their troubles, but don't take them on as your own."
Part of their balancing act was the weekly trip to Hastings to pick up food - a time where he and his wife tried to talk about anything but work and recharged for the week ahead.
Rotorua Intermediate learning support co-ordinator Dean Henderson deals with everything from minor social or learning issues to major things like contacting Oranga Tamariki with welfare concerns.
It's been an "intense" two years for him from day one.
Covid meant they saw things they didn't expect - "a lot" of kids in emergency housing, families already struggling further strained by economic hardship, and kids generally being exposed to negative news or situations.
"Some of the students we're dealing with on a daily basis and when something big and traumatic happens in their lives, you do tend to carry that a bit.
"You do sort of internalise things, you feel for the kids."
The role could be stressful and emotional, taking on the emotions while working with children and families, he said.
Henderson said because of the heavy nature and load of counselling, they had been able to get a counsellor to come into school through the Gumboot Friday initiative which provides two free sessions per student.
This gave the staff information and helped them understand what the children might need.
There were also "different layers of mental health issues" in his line of work. "We all have our own issues".
Their school support team was made up of a social worker, a counsellor, and himself and they had a big caseload between them.
The team debriefed and unloaded, which Henderson said helped them to leave the heaviness behind before going home.
They also take mental health days if needed, take a caseload home if they can, and have counselling available to them through the Employee Assistance Programme paid for by the school.
"In this line of work, I don't think you can function to your best if you aren't open about your own health issues and you're addressing those."
He said it was "really important" to have an open relationship with family or friends. For himself, he loved going for walks and gardening.
He said getting help, and not being afraid to ask for help, was crucial.
● Lifeline: 0800 543 354 (available 24/7)
● Suicide Crisis Helpline: 0508 828 865 (0508 TAUTOKO) (available 24/7)
● Youth services: (06) 3555 906
● Youthline: 0800 376 633
● Kidsline: 0800 543 754 (available 24/7)
● Whatsup: 0800 942 8787 (1pm to 11pm)
● Depression helpline: 0800 111 757 (available 24/7)
● Rainbow Youth: (09) 376 4155
● Helpline: 1737
● Anxiety Helpline: 0800 ANXIETY (0800 269 4389)
If it is an emergency and you feel like you or someone else is at risk, call 111
Armed police stood guard as the patched members were led out in handcuffs.