compassion fatigue

I am okay.  Better than I thought I would be.  Grief looks lots of different ways.  It can mean being at the bottom of a deep deep hole with no way to get out, no energy, no desire to save yourself as water pours over the edges.  But it can also be mingled with gratitude and love and peaceful energy.  (Maybe that newfound peace came from your prayers.  I don't know how to pray, but other people do, other people who care about me.  And I get better at being cared for.)

We made a plan to go away for the weekend to Galiano Island, which is a cottage weekend of hikes and sea otters (I hope) and driftwood and whales (I hope) and sex and quiet and focused time and energy and love.  This is what I need, a disconnection from the daily routine and time alone with the person I love most.

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I am experiencing what I would call compassion fatigue.  I work hard, and I pride myself on that, but it is possible that I work harder than I should.  T frequently tells me to pace myself, and I see there is wisdom in that platitude that I have brushed off as just words.  I do need to pace myself.  I care so hard and it is making me tired.  Today I mentioned to N that I have three girls on my caseload all of whom are in the midst of pregnancy scares, and needing me to go with them to various medical appointments.  N told me he has never done this in his entire time counselling, which is more than ten years.  He told me that I am doing it so often because I am "too good" at my job.  He said that it's because the kids talk to each other and tell each other that I can do this for them.  It's a punishment, is what he's saying, a punishment you receive as a reward for being trusted, for being good at your job.

When I was a teacher I was punished for being inclusive by having all the misfits land in my classes.  All of them.  It was exhausting.  And my punishment for working hard as a counsellor is that I get to run myself ragged some more.  Pace yourself, pace yourself.  But I want to do the job I do the way I do it.  I want the kids to know I will help with anything, even if it means I work harder than the other three combined.

The situation with D has been emotionally exhausting and now that the other agencies have finally stepped in I am trying to take a step back, take a breath, and let the other professionals do their jobs.  It's not all on me to fix this.  There are a lot of people involved now, and I no longer have control nor do I have full responsibility.  It is a loss and a gain.  I need to let go.  I need to breathe, I need to sleep.  I need to take my own stupid advice.

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