I didn't tell my family or friends the first time I went to Mosul. Colleagues knew, of course, but my parents thought I was back in the Kurdish capital of Erbil interviewing refugees and internally displaced people.
I didn't want them to worry. I didn't want them to check the news, or WhatsApp, or look at the little notification on Facebook that says when a person was "last active" - and I knew they would.
When a friend found out, he told me I was selfish - that by placing myself in danger to tell a stranger's story, I was prioritising my career over my loved ones' feelings.
I see his point, but I disagree.
From 80-year-old great grandmothers taking on terrorists and the patriarchy at the same time, to the wide-eyed Yazidi teenager who told me how she jumped from the fifth floor of a tower block because she'd rather die than remain imprisoned by her Islamic State captor, reporting in Iraq is important.
More than three million people in Iraqi Kurdistan have been displaced since 2014. They've lost their careers, their houses and their family members.Children talk tearlessly of climbing over their parents' bodies to get to safety, and men weep as they explain what they fear their futures hold. In a society of Facebook echo chambers and "fake news", where the world feels increasingly divided and humanity is treated like an afterthought, these are the people whose stories we need to be telling.
It's true that Iraq is one of the world's most dangerous places to be a journalist. This week, Kurdish fixer Bakhtiyar Haddad and French reporter Stéphane Villeneuve were killed, and their two colleagues Samuel Forey and Veronique Robert were severely injured when a mine exploded as they reported from the frontline. Last month, translator Shaheen Nazdar died after he was shot in the stomach by an Islamic State sniper. But freelancers and staffers from all over the world will continue to risk their lives to bring back photographs and news.
Fuelled by meals of undercooked rice and weighed down with 10kg of body armour in 45°C heat as they run - ears pricked for the crack of sniper rifles in otherwise silent streets - they're some of the most talented, determined, selfless journalists I've met. Their families should be proud of them. They're prioritising the truth...