Compassion Fatigue. I love this term because it is so apt; you see it and know exactly what it is—that feeling of scraping the bottom of the barrel, when you have nothing left to give. It’s harder to recognize in real life. It doesn’t announce its coming, but rather reveals itself through that short-tempered response to our child’s endless questions, sluggishness when it’s time to get out of bed, that persistent sore throat. 

Compassion fatigue means we have supported and rallied and stayed present for those who needed us—but we’ve forgotten to extend that same grace to ourselves. It can develop following one difficult experience or multiple ones across months or years. It shows up in a myriad of effects, including trouble sleeping, anxiety, anger, sadness, fatigue, a sense of isolation, helplessness, rigid thinking, apathy or numbness, guilt, appetite changes, hypervigilance, and a weakened immune system. It can impact our productivity, our relationships, our judgment, and our health.

The best protections against compassion fatigue are healthy boundaries and ongoing maintenance. Having healthy boundaries means recognizing the limits of what you can provide. Don’t take on the role of holding up another person all by yourself. In particular, do not tie your own happiness to someone else’s recovery. Those you are trying to help may reject your assistance outright, make progress and then fall backward, or start therapy or drug treatment and then quit. This is their path, not yours. You can help them along the way, but you can’t walk it for them. 

By ongoing maintenance, I mean take care of yourself. We’re no good to the world when we’re depleted. Here’s what helps me: 

• Make it a routine. Whatever your self-care is, make it as much a part of your routine as brushing your teeth. I do a little yoga and meditation every morning after my shower. Yours could be a morning walk with the dog, playing the piano for thirty minutes after dinner, saying a prayer before bed, or anything else. 
• Talk about the hard stuff. Find someone to talk to—a friend or family member, a therapist, your journal. 
• Know your warning signs. Maybe it’s when you can’t fall asleep at night, or you lose your appetite, or you find yourself craving a beer. If there is some addiction or unhealthy behavior that tends to haunt you, this is when it will pounce. When this happens, it’s time to double down on the self-care. 

My final point is to be careful of the temptation to think of these steps as things that other people need, but not you. There is a hubris to the sentiment that you alone do not need self-care, support, and the opportunity to discuss difficult things. You are human, with all of the strengths and weaknesses of our kind. Equally, you are no less worthy than all others; you deserve the same care and attention. You are entitled to the air you breathe, the space you take up in the world, and all that you need to feel whole and full in the world. And we need you whole and full, because there is much work to do.