Compassion Fatigue





This pandemic came to me in the middle of a full-blown splondylo-arthritic flare. For the first time it's my heel. When foot meets floor, it feels like it was hit by a cricket bat two days ago. Anyone who understands this disease will now what I'm talking about, and how scary it is when a new part of the body is attacked.

It's horrible. And at a time when I would benefit from looking after myself first, tending to myself first, I'm so distraught about the plight of migrants. About doctors I love, and doctors who have kept me alive and well. I worry about the economy; and investment leaving the country and bad loans. About bad laws. About data privacy. About consolidation of wealth in the hands of few. About the families in villages not receiving their remittances. About the old and lonely and sad. About friends with fragile parents, friends working too hard, friends not feeling ok, family not feeling ok.

For a while the overwhelming worry has been building and building and I haven't found a way to cope and now I'm tired. Now I feel burnt out. I feel like there's nothing left. I feel like I have nothing more to give.

My therapist and I have been talking about something called compassion fatigue. Where we respond to the needs of others, or worry about things far out of our control because we believe it is our duty to worry, and then burn out. I have hit severe compassion fatigue. I can't care anymore.

Where's my wonderful-person award from the universe for trying so hard, for responding to the emotional needs of others, for examining again and again the ways in which I can better the world I am in. I want my wonderful-person award.

Ofcourse we all know that I'm the one who needs to give this award to myself. And here's how: I'm learning (excruciatingly slowly) to recognise when I'm heading towards being overwhelmed. I'm learning now to tend to myself first, to make sure I feel nurtured and loved, by myself and the universe, before I say that kind and generous thing to someone who may need it.

This shouldn't be revolutionary, but it feels revolutionary. My friend Shivangi calls this the Surabhi syndrome. (Surabhi is my friend who truly drives herself crazy worrying about the universe and then gets crippled by the futility of worrying. I'm quite tempered in comparison. But she's learning too. Badhai to the both of us.).

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