A little over a year ago I wrote a post on "Dealing with Compassion Fatigue", but today I'm here to talk about something equally as challenging...the rehab process.
Today, I severely miss my kids. Three in particular rest heavy on my heart and I wish I could spend time with them. I am tempted to think back upon my time with them and list off all the things I did wrong and all the responses I wish I had given to them instead. To wish that I had done better; that I had shown more love while the window of opportunity was still open.
Ironically enough, compassion work often becomes an addiction to those involved in it. There are so many that I know who have left residential care just to turn around and run back to it. They love; they crave it.
"I'm Out!"
Three months ago I left residential knowing that I needed a break. The chronic stress was taking its toll on my heart and the signs all pointed to one single truth: I had poured out all that I could. Though I loved my job, I saw bitterness and anxiety in greater measures than I had ever experienced filling me up, and worse yet it was showing in my interactions and my conversations. I was beyond compassion fatigue.
On the Road
While I've done a lot of work and I'm rediscovering myself and my passions, I am still a long way out from recovered, but I'm getting there. Thanks be to God.
The first couple of weeks after I left were freeing and life-giving. I felt the weight of responsibility rise of my shoulders and I was able to reconnect with people that I hadn't been able to. Then it started to hit me...the lack of responsibility moved from being free to feeling a lot like purposelessness.
I missed my community, I missed my kids that I loved so dearly, and I missed being able to exercise my gifts in a way that was caring and gave life. What made things worse was the knowledge that, in that moment, I wasn't able to just walk right back into it. I wasn't rested, I wasn't healed from the three years of chaos, trauma, and hurt that had accumulated.
Working it Out
Today, I severely miss my kids. Three in particular rest heavy on my heart and I wish I could spend time with them. I am tempted to think back upon my time with them and list off all the things I did wrong and all the responses I wish I had given to them instead. To wish that I had done better; that I had shown more love while the window of opportunity was still open.
Instead, I chose to pull up the photos that I had and started rolling through the memories and think upon each one with gratitude.
With tears rolling down my face. I thanked God for every one of those kids and for every precious moment that I had whether it be cooking, listening to music, arguing, or sitting in the mud in the middle of the woods.
With tears rolling down my face. I thanked God for every one of those kids and for every precious moment that I had whether it be cooking, listening to music, arguing, or sitting in the mud in the middle of the woods.
I have tried distraction, meditation, and so many other methods to deal with my sorrow, but this is the only productive means of coping with the withdrawals. Gratitude as a discipline of the mind. It does more than get me through the rough patches. It heals me and it gives me life.
I will be forever grateful that I got to know them and spend time with them. I cherish the memories that I have of them and I thank God that they are alive, healthy, and clearly growing. It saddens me to no longer be apart of that process, but I'm grateful that they no longer need me to process or face their challenges.
Now I am free to go and find other ways that God wants me to be active in His world. I can trust Him to take care of my guys. Even better...I can trust Him to take care of me as well and take this time and turn it into something incredible!

