Compassion fatigue
The past few weeks I found myself traversing a very dark place. Perhaps you’ve felt it too? No specific event or difficulty was the catalyst, it was the convergence of ALL THE THINGS. Pandemic. Political upheaval. Generational fires, floods, winds. Collective stress and distress. A new normal that consists of responding to daily plot twists on both individual and collective levels. You get it.
What I wasn’t prepared for was the response I received when I named that I was struggling and not in fact, feeling OK. In the space of a few days I was told:
“Everyone is having a hard time”
“You just need to get over it”
“You’re strong, keep going”
“If you need more personal time, stop being so afraid and send your son back to school”
“That’s not my problem”
I was stunned. These responses came from people I consider to be my friends, my community, my support system. It felt as though I was in a sinking boat and instead of helping, people were unintentionally making more holes in the boat. It was a loosing proposition.
As I sat with the heaviness and my distress, my fervent prayer for several days was, “Show me. Show me why I’m having this experience. Show me what I need to understand to move through it.”
What I came to understand is that I was the canary in the coal mine. I was not only witnessing, but experiencing, the direct impact of “compassion fatigue.”
In committing to the path of a healing arts practitioner, I’ve been trained to walk through the dark places, to see what needs to be seen and bring back the message to share. What I saw was the impact of the horrors currently unfolding in our world. What I saw is what happens when our quick fix mentality creates the illusion of a sprint, when we're actually in the earliest stage of a marathon. What I saw and felt are the ramifications of collective compassion fatigue.
September is suicide awareness month, which makes this message all the more timely. Sensitive souls, those prone to depression, deep anxiety, those that feel “too much” are our canaries in the coal mine. They sense when things aren’t right and we're each responsible to pay attention.
If someone tells you they’re having a hard time - Believe them. Hear them. See them. Listen.
Our own personal experience is not the barometer for someone else’s pain or challenges. We don’t have to understand someone's situation to offer compassion. Just because a particular situation isn’t hard for you or me to navigate, doesn’t mean it’s not immeasurably hard for someone else. It doesn’t matter if everyone is having a hard time, this doesn’t diminish the uniquely hard time of me or you or anyone else.
The mindset that it’s “not my problem,” or people need to “get over it” is not just unhelpful, it's dangerous. What's unfolding in our world, in our communities, across the physical Earth is ALL our problem. What we're seeing is the underbelly of generations of creations and it’s not pretty. It’s dark and messy and hard to look at. We're being shown the necessity and rightful place that communities of care and systems that support have in our collective thriving and long-term success.
There's an increasing level of fragility and vulnerability that we must caretake in one another. We're only in the beginning stage of the changes to come. It’s not just about the current pandemic. It’s about what's next in line when it's passed. We're are at a fork in the road and what I saw, through my own experience of darkness these past weeks, is that compassion and empathy mean the difference between humanity coming through this passage or this marking the beginning of the end.
Each and every one of us need to check ourselves. Remember and re-educate ourselves as to what compassion and empathy look like in daily practice. It’s not about self-sacrifice and no boundaries. We're each having a very personal and real experience of the challenges at hand. If you don’t have capacity to hold space for someone, even during a short conversation, or in a text exchange, be aware of that and be clear. Own where you haven't shown compassion, mend things where needed. Cultivate vulnerability as your strength.
I've linked a helpful article on the subject of surge capacity and it’s impact on our ability to handle long-term stress and challenges. I encourage you to take a few moments and read it to better understand where you are in your own experience.
We're living through a graduate level course on becoming safe people and space places for one another. It’s essential in these fragile and wild times to root ourselves in compassion. To listen to the canaries, those who sense the subtle undercurrent and are alerting others to the present dangers.
The equinox this week doesn't feel like a gentle rebalancing. It feels like a gateway of opportunity to take a clear and honest look at where we each need to return to center and come into right relationship. What extremes in your life, perspectives, experience need modulated? Where does your compassion and empathy need soothed and strengthened?
I too feel exhaustion and fatigue in caring and being concerned for ALL THE THINGS that require care right now. It would be easier to numb out, rely on magical thinking that it will work itself out, or soak in the pools of false positivity to bypass the discomfort. I feel horrified watching the dismantling of so much, so rapidly, so completely.
It’s OK to not be OK right now. It means you’re paying attention. We should all be paying attention, not to live in fear, but to recognize the critical juncture of choosing what we want to create. As one reality is dying, we have the opportunity to consciously build the world that our children and our children’s children will inhabit. May it be a world where sensitivity and compassion are prized and all receive the support and care needed to thrive.
