The term compassion almost always has positive connotations. This article talks about how draining it can really be and how much we underestimate the mental and emotional toll being compassionate takes. Often death, loss and misery become so familiar that our body becomes numb to the pain, even when that pain may not be ours. This article aims to raise awareness about ‘compassion fatigue’ and the importance of prioritising one’s own mental well-being while taking care of others.
Edited by: Sahana Innuganti
Death is discomfort. It’s heartache, pain, misery. Death instigates fear. Everyone experiences it, but no one really does. Loss is a monster, a monster whose existence is justified by compassion, by empathy. For kindness cannot exist without suffering, goodwill cannot exist without evil. It is indeed the cruel duality of nature. But, what happens when this monster becomes so familiar that it’s not scary anymore? What happens when discomfort, pain, misery and fear fade into numbness? You want to lend a helping hand, even if it is a shaking hand, but you just cannot. It takes every inch of your body to feel, for it is almost as if it has become devoid of emotions. It isn’t grief, nor is it relief. It is fatigue.
With each wave of COVID-19, came an even larger wave of grief, of hopelessness, of death. Many of us found ourselves trembling every time we received a phone call, a new message and it became almost physically impossible to take in the news. I often found myself helpless in front of the wrath of this invisible virus. However, the most disturbing experience of all was the numbness I felt growing inside my body each time I heard of someone losing their loved one to this disease. After a point, the human brain cannot process statistics. Many found themselves feeling the same amount of pain as the death toll rose from a lakh to two. As much as we hated ourselves for reducing human life to statistics, we just couldn’t perceive the fact that one lakh more families had lost someone they loved, cared about, and for them moving on from this pandemic would be a mammoth task. Many felt tiredness, a burnout of sorts, from this constant interaction with misery and it became a lot more digestible to think of human life as numbers. In retrospect, only a few of us realised that what we were experiencing was compassion fatigue.
Compassion fatigue or vicarious trauma, often described as the ‘negative cost of caring’, is the physical and mental exhaustion that comes with being in close proximity with traumatic events or victims of trauma. Studied under the field of traumatology, it leads to a reduced ability to feel compassion. It is a result of second-hand trauma or secondary traumatic stress that often comes from working in the healing capacity with victims of trauma and is termed as ‘secondary survivor syndrome’. It is particularly common amongst therapists, doctors, nurses, NGO workers etc.
Many argue that compassion fatigue should instead be called ‘empathy fatigue’. For this tiredness comes from empathy, understanding what someone else is experiencing by putting yourself in their shoes. Compassion can exist with detachment and it is the lack of detachment that leaves one feeling like a secondary survivor.
People experiencing compassion fatigue may often find themselves feeling like they are losing control over things. They may also feel hopeless and easily overwhelmed. The diminished ability to feel empathy or show care often manifests itself in the form of guilt, frustration and anger. People suffering also experience reduced efficiency and may find themselves feeling ill-motivated and/or physically and mentally burnt out. Loss of sound sleep, feeling physically weak, dizziness, nausea and headache are common physical symptoms.
The lack of awareness and the stigma that surrounds mental health, often limits access to resources, awareness and discussion and becomes a huge barrier when it comes to dealing with compassion fatigue. Moreover, we often romanticise the idea of caregivers and attach greater than human attributes to them. The notions of otherworldly strength, compassion, and ability to serve that we associate with certain people and put them on the pedestal of ‘God’, makes it even more difficult for them to ask for help. In desperation, many resort to poor coping mechanisms such as substance abuse, over-sleeping or not sleeping at all, over-eating or not eating at all etc. Therefore, first and foremost, we all need to have discussions about mental health more often and more openly. Secondly, we need to let humans be humans, who struggle, falter and deserve a break.
Some tips for dealing with compassion fatigue include making self-care a priority. It could be as simple as dressing up, starting a new hobby/ reconnecting with an old one or redesigning your room. Be intentional with your routine- eat healthy, exercise well, take care of personal hygiene etc. It is important to remember that no one can pour from an empty cup. If you are working in the capacity of a caregiver, take a break when you need one. Create a framework wherein you can take time out for yourself and your well-being and set healthy interpersonal boundaries. Spending time with loved ones, venting to them helps to cope with the feeling of helplessness. There are a lot of support groups that exist for caregivers or those who have had similar experiences as you and connecting with them can make you feel less lonely in your journey. Talking to a counsellor or therapist can help lighten the burden that you are carrying due to the residue of negative emotions that you feel as a secondary survivor. Lastly, a lot of times kindness can be all-consuming and you leave very little of it for yourself. Be kind to yourself, allow yourself to heal, before you extend that kindness to everyone else.