I left my home city and moved to my current town because I was the victim of a home invasion. I was living in a ghetto and it was bad news. Like, really bad.
Close to everything I owned was stolen as I stood there, not daring to say or do anything...just watching my possessions being dumped, grabbed, carried out. Everything from my wedding dress to lovely bookcases that had been given to me. Thank the universe that my pets weren't hurt. And for some odd reason, the people who broke into my home didn't take my computer.
After they left I grabbed my pets, boxed them up (the mammals), stuffed caged animals into my car. I filled 2 large lawn bags with anything I could grab that hadn't been taken (which wasn't much). Jammed my desktop into my car and took off. I was a state of terror, but I made it to a town where I had a relative I could stay with until I found my own place.
Anyway, I know that people in the "rescue" fields experience some God-awful things and that most of them develop PTSD pretty quickly. But they are trained, they know what they're getting into, they are paid for their work, and they have each other. It is for those reasons that I separate victims from people employed in certain fields.