I first heard about “compassion fatigue” at my office.

We lead a program focused on the national opioid/fentanyl overdose crisis, and we learned about the fatigue that often follows substance abuse providers after treating their patients over the course of time. You also may have heard about compassion fatigue in the context of the workplace, in general. Compassion fatigue, in fact, was exacerbated by a pandemic stretching already limited resources – especially for essential workers like nurses and teachers who couldn’t just “work from home”. In sum, it’s a condition that leads to burnout. Many workers, during the Public Health Emergency and thereafter, found themselves simply walking out of work and quitting their jobs because they were totally “burned out.” You may be one of them.

However, as a caregiver to my mother, previously my father, and now my brother, I felt myself utterly drained and exhausted – lacking the compassion for others that I always thought I had. As caregivers, a job I first became acquainted with in my late 40s when my father was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, we are always tending to someone else’s needs and often neglecting our own. The constant need to be positive, solution-oriented, and focused on the cure can result in feelings of irritability, exhaustion, and resentment. Honestly, I never saw my life going this way. I moved far away from home at 17 (graduating early from high school) and eventually launched a vibrant and exciting career on Capitol Hill in Washington, DC. I loved my fast-paced, intellectually rigorous life and never saw myself returning home. Until I hit 47. And my dad got sick. I am the oldest. I know health care as I do it for a living. I don’t have children. It seemed only logical that I would be the one to come home and take care of things.

I took care of my Dad for 5 months until he passed away – moving into a hotel next to his hospital. I quit working, exercising, socializing – everything. My Dad had numerous complications so I needed to be at the hospital for 12 hours a day to help him make quick but important medical decisions. I still do not regret a single thing about my decision to take care of my Dad. Caring for him was a privilege. But it did take a toll on my health and my career. Admittedly, I lost myself in his disease and just let myself go. Several years later, my brother became immobilized and depressed after a botched knee replacement. And shortly thereafter, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. Selfishly, I started to feel like I would never get a break -- that my life was now forever laden with a series of disease states.

I became irritable with my family and colleagues. I found myself withdrawing and hanging out with the characters on my favorite Netflix series instead of the real people in my real life. I could not get motivated to do simple tasks like reading a book or writing a memo. I realized that I too was experiencing compassion fatigue, and I had to find a way to get myself out of it. Being a caregiver should not be all consuming. As I have learned, even overachievers have to set boundaries. In sum, you have to care for the caregiver. This means self-care that is practiced on a daily basis. Self-care can be something so simple as scheduling a lunch break or taking a 20-minute walk after work. Or it can be something more structured like scheduling a massage or facial on a Saturday afternoon.

For me, it meant making a concerted effort to carve out time for me every single day. Instead of my usual pounding the pavement to reduce stress, I started going to restorative yoga every single Sunday evening. While it didn’t burn nearly as many calories, it forced me to just relax and clear my mind for an hour – which was a perfect way to start my next week. I also started walking outside to get a jolt of Vitamin D and fill my body with mind-elevating endorphins. I started writing more creatively, which has always been a way for me to escape my problems. Finally, slowly but surely, I started reconnecting with the outside world and making lunch dates with some of my healthier, more supportive friends instead of the toxic ones I associated with in the past. Last week I started a book and began shutting my cell phone off for hours during the weekend. Incremental measures. But I think I’m on my way. I don’t feel like I’m going to fly off the handle anymore, but I’m also giving less and taking more. We as women are not raised to do this, but it’s actually okay to give less to others and more to yourself during certain periods in your life.

I’m still a caregiver and still navigating uncertain waters, but I’ve learned that I have to care for myself too or I won’t be able to fully be there for anyone else. And despite the challenges that I still have to face, now that I’ve begun to slow down and make myself a priority, I know that I am living my best life yet.