Tag Archives: compassion fatigue

Open Heart, Open Mind — How to Avoid Compassion Fatigue

In her workshop on Compassion Fatigue, Hilary Hager shared with our group of around 50 participants why she has devoted her career to animal welfare. Hilary is now Senior Director of Volunteer Engagement for the Humane Society of the United States (HSUS). She travels around the country and internationally, helping animal welfare workers care for themselves so that they are happier and healthier, and thus can work more effectively on behalf of needy animals.

She told about her service as a Peace Corps volunteer in Mongolia many years ago, when she somehow attracted a large number of dogs. They just gravitated toward her, until her canine family finally numbered 16. Then one day she came home to find that hunters had shot all her dogs—a measure sanctioned by the Mongolian government to control the stray population.

It took her a long time to recover from her shock and grief. When she returned to the States she began working at an animal shelter, and to this day she says that everything she does for animals is in honor of those lost Mongolian dogs.

Everyone in the room had experienced – thankfully, most of us not to that same extent — that loving and caring for animals has a high emotional cost. We were there to learn how to maintain our wellbeing amid the stress of the work. The audience was made up of shelter staff and volunteers, animal control officers, animal rescuers and legislative advocates. Like any caregivers, we’re a population vulnerable to compassion fatigue, defined as “emotional, physical, social and spiritual exhaustion that causes a pervasive decline in the ability to feel and care for others.” It is a multi-stage process which may begin with zeal and idealism, but then progresses to anger and cynicism, a sense of guilt that you can never do enough, emotional numbing, possible addiction, and other dysfunctional states. It can end in total burnout.

No Complaints. Hilary started by having the group list all the things we like about our work, and then all the things we dislike. She then asked, “How prevalent is complaining in your organization?” Sheepish smiles and nervous laughter gave her the answer. “Why,” she went on, “do we spend so much time talking about the stuff on this list” – she tapped the paper taped to the wall on which she had listed all our negatives – “instead of on this one?” — the list of the many positives.

Everyone agreed that complaining is toxic, demoralizing, divisive, and contributes to compassion fatigue. “I made a policy for myself,” Hilary said, “that I would only complain to the person in my organization who could solve the problem.” Then she laughed. “For the first several days I had to stop myself. It seemed like everything I wanted to say was a complaint.” But it gradually got better, and she found that her work life grew more harmonious. Her home life improved, too; she realized that unloading her work frustrations on her husband merely stressed him out about situations that he couldn’t fix. She recommended that all of us give the no-complaint experiment a try for three months and see what a difference it made.

But how would we handle the buildup of tension and frustration that the habit of complaining is an attempt (unsuccessful) to defuse? Hilary suggested breathing and relaxation exercises – “You can find on the Internet techniques like 4-7-8 breathing, relaxing the pelvic floor, facial tapping, which really do help. Though some of them you can’t exactly do at the front desk while confronting an irate customer,” she joked.

A daily gratitude practice – spending quiet time each morning thinking about 3 things you’re grateful for – keeps the heart open. Allowing yourself to take time off, enjoying activities and relationships apart from your work, dissipates stress and creates a more balanced life.

Changing the Narrative. The most dramatic part of the workshop for me centered on reframing your idea of reality – specifically, the common perception among animal care workers, who see such neglect and suffering, that “people suck.” Hilary explained the “Ladder of Inference,” a concept developed by organizational psychologist Chris Argyris:

· We begin with real data and experience
· We then select the data and experience that we pay attention to
· To this selected data and experience we affix meaning, develop assumptions
· The resulting beliefs then form the basis of our actions, which in turn create real data and experience.

Thus, how we act and how we think depend on how we understand the situation we’re in. And how we understand the situation we’re in depends more on our beliefs, assumptions and values than on the actual situation.

She told a vivid story to illustrate this: A coworker at the organization where Hilary used to work would arrive early in the morning and often would find a dog tied up at the front door. She’d set the dog up in a kennel and go about her day, without really thinking anything of it.

One day, though, she arrived at the same time as another employee who, on seeing a dog tied up, vented about people “dumping dogs all the time.” For some reason, Hilary’s friend’s narrative changed, and what had been just a normal occurrence started to cause her anger and distress.

The next time she arrived to find an abandoned animal, she took a moment to consider the situation and her reaction. After she got the dog set up in a kennel, she passed the receptionist, who commented with distaste,”They dumped another one, huh?”

“Yes, but this story is pretty amazing,” Hilary’s friend said. She explained that the previous night a family was rushing to catch the ferry (the shelter was in the Seattle area, with a ferry to the San Juan Islands)— “and they saw this dog running panicked in the street. They stopped their car, and the dad managed to halt 4 lanes of traffic while the mom coaxed the dog into the back seat with the two kids. They couldn’t keep the dog and they were rushing to catch the last boat, so they brought him here where they knew he would be safe. And you know what else? As a result of that experience, one kid said she wants to be a vet when she grows up, and the other one wants to be an animal rescue officer.”

The receptionist stared at her. “How in the world do you know all that?”

“I don’t,” Hilary’s friend admitted. “I made it all up. But based on the available evidence it’s just as likely to be true as whatever people-sucking scenario we could come up with.”

I was stunned by this simple yet powerful example of attitude adjustment, a reminder that most of the time we can’t know the circumstances that make people behave as they do, and that erring on the side of compassion will help us feel better about ourselves, other human beings, and life in general.

Staying Positive. The session concluded with recommendations for achieving “Compassion Satisfaction”: Validate yourself by considering what you do well and how you positively contribute to your organization. Think about what you appreciate about your coworkers. Find ways to defuse your emotional triggers. Cultivate a daily gratitude practice.

At this stage in my animal care work – 3 years of volunteering some 400 hours per year – I needed this workshop. I had begun comparing myself unfavorably to younger, more energetic volunteers who can walk the big rowdy dogs tirelessly, or who have leadership gifts that I don’t possess, or who can handle the public with the right combination of directness and tact, whereas I shrink from any hint of confrontation. I had begun to lose my zest, my belief that I was really making a difference.

Hilary Hager helped me see that the things I am able to do also have value – driving transports, using my writing skills to promote the shelter’s mission, giving affection and walks to the dogs I feel capable of handling (God knows there are always more dogs in need of loving attention than there are people to give it), doing my share of the chores required to keep the shelter clean, healthy and functional.

Most of all, she opened my eyes to the possibility of creating a different reality: one governed by kindness, understanding, and choosing to believe the best of people. Including myself.

When Caring Hurts: Compassion Fatigue and How to Protect Against It

It takes a strong heart to deal with the cruelty that confronts animal rescue workers on a regular basis. One day at the shelter I saw an article posted on the bulletin board in the staff area. Its subject was “Compassion Fatigue,” and it described the psychological burden on vets and animal workers of seeing so much suffering and death, and also of being the instruments of death in the performance of euthanasia that shelter work sadly often requires.

Shocking initiation. Veterinarian Dr. Douglas Fakkema has been a pioneer in the identification and treatment of compassion fatigue. When he began his career in the 1970s, things were very different. His account of what happened on his first day of work in a California shelter is chilling to read.

As reported in Animal Sheltering magazine, “Fakkema showed up at 8 a.m., and the very first minute he was there, a shelter employee named Bob greeted him and told Fakkema to come with him. ‘So I followed him, we put a leash on a dog, and I walked behind him with this beautiful dog on a leash and went into this back room,’ he recalls. “I didn’t get a tour, there was no orientation, there was no training. They had me pick this dog up and put the dog into this cage on wheels. So I did that, I shoved the cage into this weird-looking machine, and closed the door, latched it and hit a green button.’”

The machine was a decompression chamber, a particularly inhumane form of euthanasia that has since been widely banned. Dr. Fakkema didn’t have a chance to process what he saw and experienced that day; he was put to work right away cleaning kennels.

A force for change. Back in the ’70s, spay and neuter were not commonly practiced, and uncontrolled breeding of animals meant that shelter workers like Dr. Fakkema were euthanizing as many as 90 animals a day. Understandably, this took a psychological toll.

Douglas Fakkema helped to make the humane form of euthanasia-by-injection the standard practice in shelters today. Still, it can be a heavy emotional burden on those who must perform it frequently, largely because of people’s continued refusal to spay and neuter their animals.

Four stages. Dr. Fakkema used his own experience to identify the common, successive stages of compassion fatigue: Honeymoon (“I’m going to save them all!”); Depression (“Nothing is changing.”); Anger (“It’s the owners who should be euthanized, not the animals. In fact, the person who just cut me off in traffic should be.”); and, hopefully, Resilience (“I have done the best I could and made a difference. I am developing a rich life and meaningful relationships outside of work.”)

For more information see Dr. Fakkema’s website http://www.dougfakkema.com/articles.html and the profile in Animal Sheltering magazine https://www.animalsheltering.org/magazine/articles/good-man-hard-job

Limited ability, limitless need. For myself, though as a volunteer I am insulated from the very hardest work that has to be done in the shelter, I am sometimes overwhelmed by all the need I see and my own inadequacy in meeting it. In any given dog-walking session I can only walk 6 or 7 dogs – and that leaves some 50 others in the adoption wards who I know are desperate for attention and a break from the confinement of their kennels.

And there’s always much, much more that can be done. Drive a transport of animals to a city two or three hours away…take dogs to an all-day adoption event, or an outdoor concert, or a shopping center, or a ballgame, where one of them might just meet his or her forever family…volunteer at a spay and neuter clinic in a poor neighborhood….It’s easy to think that these potentially life-saving activities should take precedence over anything else that I have to do.

I see big-hearted staffers and other volunteers at our shelter taking orphaned newborn kittens home to bottle feed through the night, or adopting just one more dog when they already have three. I admire them – and yet I’m concerned about their psychological stamina.

Self-care strategies. Everyone has to find his or her own way of coping with the stress of shelter work. “I go home and hug my dog.” “I hike in nature.” “I spend time with my fiancé.” “I sleep.” These are some of the healthy strategies that my fellow workers have told me they use.

And you have to draw boundaries. You have to say no.

Speaking personally, I feel fortunate in that I have faith — or, at least, hope — in a power greater than myself. I pray to this power for the shelter animals and those who care for them. Sometimes pausing before a kennel, or hanging out on a bench with a shelter dog whom I love and whose future I worry about, I will murmur the beautiful blessing from Numbers 6:24-26:

“The Lord bless you and keep you; The Lord make His face shine upon you, And be gracious to you; The Lord lift up His countenance upon you; And give you peace.”’

And then I go home and hug my dog.