Sometimes It Sucks to Care

Sometimes I feel like I just wander through life wondering where all the empathy and compassion has gone. Does everyone just think about themselves first, second and third? I certainly know I’ve been guilty of this, but at least I’m trying and that must count for something. I hope it does anyway.

One place I do find those elusive qualities is when working with one of the shelters in our program and hearing about their daily acts of kindness, which aren’t random at all. It helps me to stop complaining for a bit, and actually want to do more.

I doubt I’m alone in finding animal shelter workers to be amazing, but I probably have a bit of a unique perspective on them, since I get to hear their stories so often. I hear about the times they receive a big box of blankets, and feel like it’s Christmas morning. I hear how they often pour over the blankets, matching them to the perfect pet. I hear about how much they enjoy watching the cats knead their new blanket or how cute it is when the dog drags their blankie everywhere they go throughout the foster home.

Words will never be able to capture just how happy this makes me. To hear that the pets are enjoying our blankets, but to also know that each creation can be a drop of sunshine in a foster mom’s, or shelter volunteer’s, day. It’s an amazing thing, to be able to package up sunshine and ship it across the country, but every box we send, or bag that’s dropped off, can be exactly that.

So it’s easy to admire these people who dedicate their lives to helping pets, but it’s harder to wrap your mind around the emotional cost of doing this work. Some of that cost shows up as Compassion Fatigue, which is why I say it just sucks to care sometimes.

Compassion Fatigues is more than being tired, it’s more than needing a vacation, it’s more than being burned out. It’s complete emotional exhaustion, from the constant exposure to the suffering of others and the never-ending demand for empathy. Of course all caring people deal with this as part of life, but we can usually tune it out by changing the channel or putting down the smartphone for an evening. When you’re caring for a host of little lives, with wagging tails and amazingly big eyes, it’s a whole level harder.

Compassion Fatigue is also specific to caretaker roles. It affects people who are constantly giving, without their emotional tanks being refilled by either themselves or those they care for. “I just can’t keep doing this, I haven’t had a full weekend off in, well years” or “it’s the 24/7 nature of it, I’m constantly and forever ‘on’”, are all things I’ve heard directly from shelter workers.

Over the years, I’ve partnered with organizations of all sizes, from large, fully staffed municipal shelters to small foster care groups run by one or two women. And yes, they are almost always women. The worst cases of this fatigue sadly show up in the smallest of groups. It’s the ones started by a single, passionate caregiver who becomes the founder, medical liaison, social media manager and custodian. Walking away, taking a break, is simply not an option. Trust me, I’ve seen this in my own mirror, but I don’t have the lives of innocent critters in the balance.

Since I have battled this fatigue myself, I can honestly tell you what makes a huge difference, and that’s the smallest of gestures. Small kindnesses that say simply, “we see you, we support you.” I find these so helpful to my mental health that I actually have what I call a “smile file” for the times I need encouragement just to open up the email and start a new day.

So how can we begin to address this for shelter workers? In that respect, we’re ahead of the game. When a box of our creations shows up, comforting the pets is just the start of the story. These blankets, your blankets, are a tangible reminder to the people who open the boxes and bags that what they are doing, the sacrifices they are making, really do matter. It matters so much in fact, that there are strangers out there spending hours meticulously crafting blankets. We give of our time, because we care deeply.

Shelter workers can see the effort and time put into each creation and I hope they experience a moment that’s free of the sadness and stress they may be facing that day. I had one shelter manager tell me “when your box shows up, it’s like someone reminding us we’re not alone.” I think we all need that reminder more often than any of us realize and more often than any of us receive it. Ah, the reality of the world.

Over the many years at CFC we’ve included with our blanket shipments a thank you card at top of the box, small angel ornaments for the staff and coloring pages that are filled out to express gratitude to the shelters. Small gestures to be sure, but if CFC has taught me anything it’s that small gestures can have big impacts. The next time you are packing up your creations to help the shelter pets, remember the people who care for them as well. Remember, when you comfort the caregiver, you’re also helping every pet they touch.