the high cost of caring

 There is a term called compassion fatigue.  It points to feeling emptied out and dried up and overwhelmed by caring a lot about things for a long time.....It's almost as if the compassion expires, the caring gives out, the empathy runs dry.  One of the words often used to describe me has been compassionate.  I identify deeply with feelings of connection, love, hurting and longing to heal others.  It is why I am a nurse.  I care.  Beyond caring I find it unacceptable to know someone is suffering and not move to relieve, help, heal, hug, and work to a better option.  It's who I am.  It's how God wired me.....and it has been this way my whole life.  

    Recently, things have happened that poked big holes in my jar of compassion.  It wasn't just one hole with a slow leak....but over and over again, big holes pierced my jar and I could feel all the goodness pouring out and I was filling and filling and filling, running to the well, crying out for more and more to fill the jar that was just emptying from the bottom as it filled from the top.  

    I know who I am.  I am very comfortable being me.  I don't run from the solitude.  I don't startle at the image in the mirrow.  I know.  So I opened up my mouth, and my heart and I let someone know that I was feeling all of the things that lead to compassion fatigue and that it wasn't ok.  What I cannot do.....is not care.  Therefore, I made some adjustments.  

    There are no magic answers for fixing this.  It is different for everyone because each of our jars is unique (thank goodness).  God, in his great love for me, made me aware of it at just the right time.....the dog days of summer that give way to early, sweet, romantic and familiar autumn.  Crickets and cicadas singing in the late afternoon.  Cooler breezes after dark.  Gorgeous sunrises.  Structured days of school and work and lots of activities to build around and explore avenues of self-care....self-compassion.....slowing down on the inside even as it speeds up all around me.  I picked up my jar.

    For me....time spent outside is good.  Gardening.  Going for walks.  Noticing trees and plants and wind and living things in nature.....patches up holes in my jar.  Reading the bible patches up holes in my jar.  Good music....specifically music that sings scripture to me so I can hear the word of God and learn a song I can sing loud and alone at my dining room table not just patches the holes but fills my jar.  Mindfulness, meditation, pilates, prayer, deep breathing, self-awareness.....all of these things fill my jar.  Chopping vegetables and making good food, whole food and eating well with people I care about is something that cares for me....and the fatigue and exhaustion of caring about very big and very hard and very immovable things begins to feel less like mountains and more like rivers.  Rivers move and flow and change and I can put my feet in the water of that instead of banging my head against a mountain that cannot be moved.  

    It has taken a few weeks and some effort to choose to not stare at a jar full of holes but instead patch it and fill it and use it again....but I can tell a shift has happened and my jar now feels full enough to continue.  I will pour from it, fill it, admire it, respect it and use it.  I will set it down and let it rest from time to time.....and take a bit of time to just breathe and make sure all is well.  If it's not well, then there is work to do.