Note: This is an article I was asked to write for Foster Families Today recently. I thought it was applicable and interesting enough to all parents, families and people in general. Thank you for reading.

Compassion fatigue is when someone becomes so worn down by trying to help others that they no longer feel normal emotions. They are exhausted; tired of trying to do the same things over and over with what seems like the same result. They might become irritable, lose sleep and feel a general sense of hopelessness.

I’ve never been a foster parent and yet I’ve supported several organizations engaged in this blessed mission. And, as the ninth of 10 kids, I believe I know some of the difficulties foster families face.

I hope you find my words useful. 

When compassion fatigued, the occasional victory no longer gives the boost it once did. For example, if a former client visits to give thanks for a particularly good placement it may not give the same sense of accomplishment as that first great placement did. Focus cures fatigue. The challenges of placement, guidance, training and oversight come at a furious pace; so the trick is to sort them by priority of time and consequence then attack them one at a time.

Foster parents see even greater challenges since their role is 24/7. A good friend of mine told me recently that she can’t face what her foster child has been through. The very idea that a parent would treat a child that way often makes her feel depressed. Another friend, who took on a child who lost both parents to a tragic accident, says he has experienced similar feelings. Add to this the daily behavioral issues that come from a foster child’s experience and one is sure to encounter some pretty low moments.

There is no “cure,” of course, but I’ll share two thoughts that I use to ward off the threat of compassion fatigue.

1. Loving Truth 

I work hard to balance telling the truth with telling it lovingly. We’re human beings so our natural instinct is to “fight or flee.” Rarely is either appropriate. Fleeing the truth creates a burden in that it doesn’t get spoken and then I carry it around. Sharing my truth too boldly often creates guilt. If I’m an executive and our funding is drying up, it doesn’t help to get mad at someone, especially a colleague or a donor. If I’m a parent, ignoring bad behavior is just as harmful as blowing up over it.

So every time I’m getting to the end of my rope — okay, almost every time — I now step back and take a minute to see what is causing me stress. Once that space is created, a minute, an hour or a day, I’m more likely to see things as they are instead of through my unfiltered emotion. As a result, I become able to share my truth lovingly and in a constructive way rather than fighting or fleeing.

The Buddha is quoted to have said, “Pain is mandatory but suffering is optional.” Co-workers and foster children are unlikely to stop pushing our buttons, so it’s up to us to turn them off ourselves, and then share more calmly.

2. Me First

This is the other enduring advice on compassion fatigue, which came from my mother.

My mom was pretty unique. She got married for the first time at 36 to a man who had children ages 7, 6 and 4. His first wife had died suddenly two years earlier. My mom was told she could not have kids so hers was a bit of a “foster mother” strategy. She’d raise his boys and never have the pain of childbirth. Over the unexpected course of the next nine years she bore seven children. The last was Jane, who had Down syndrome.

A few years before Mom passed I asked her how she survived, especially those first 10 or 15 years, without going crazy. She was an incredibly loving mother and calm outwardly. Her answer was: “I took care of myself first or you guys would have worn me out.”

“When did you have time?” I asked.

“I took ‘me first’ time through daily disciplines,” she said.

I now understand why she got up at 4 a.m. to read or why we went with her to the coffee shop or a friend’s house to enjoy a brief cup of coffee. One evening a week and one night a month, Mom and Dad would be gone. For a dinner out, they’d often just go to the local greasy spoon. For the monthly night out they wouldn’t even leave town! It was common for them to book a room at the local hotel in our town. She’d beg borrow or steal a babysitter because she said if she didn’t get away from us and get herself right, she wouldn’t have been able to be right for us.

My daily disciplines are different, but their objective is the same: Me First time so that I can be calm and live my Loving Truth without fatigue.

Peace,

Tim