I went on a solo retreat last December during the week between Christmas and the New Year. I booked myself a small Airbnb about an hour and a half away from home and brought a book, a bible, a craft project, and a journal for a short, one-night stay. I’d wanted to do it for a long time – years in fact. But there were always reasons not to. The stresses in my life didn’t seem to warrant the time off of work or the expense. Though I could have objectively identified stressors in my life: moving multiple times in four years, adopting a puppy, family members with serious health challenges, my husband’s transition from business owner to a new career, a stressful job situation, leading a home group, perimenopause, and the small matter of a global pandemic — I still couldn’t rationalize prioritizing myself in this way. My life just couldn’t possibly be“stressful enough” to do something that so few people do.
Fragile. Like dust.
Maybe you have this tendency too. The tendency to downplay your own needs because they don’t seem nearly as significant as the needs of everyone around you. So you push through and you push through and you push through some more. This tendency to endure instead of offering ourselves the grace of downtime is, of course, multi-faceted. Sometimes our striving is born of a particular personality type. Perhaps we’re ambitious doers, or maybe a strong work ethic was instilled in us from a young age (hear my own story about that on a recent episode of Human Together). Some of it may stem from cultural narratives. As a person of color and a woman, my need to be seen as fully (more than) capable is very strong. It can even stem from whispered societal narratives, like the one that says if you’re married without kids or if you’re single, you’ve got all the time in the world and should always be the one to adjust your schedule or be available to meet the needs of parents.
But the truth is, God is faithful to give us all an abundance of life to live. Lives rich in relationships, jobs, personal challenges, and demands on our time. And when things happen to our people…when the diagnosis comes, or the surgery is imminent, or our spouse’s work hours are extended—it all adds up. And because we’re connected, these things don’t just happen to the folks directly impacted, but to those closest to them as well. I don’t mean to say that we’re experiencing traumatic things at the same level as the person directly impacted, but we often experience some level of vicarious trauma in the face of multiplying events. And if we’re trying even just a little to help those people in our lives, we likely start to feel a weariness we’re unable to name. Similarly, if we are able to name it — we may feel guilt for doing so.
Psychologists have coined this weariness as “compassion fatigue” or secondary traumatic stress (STS). Most often it’s associated with medical professionals, therapists, and people who spend a lot of time in volunteer spaces, however, a layman's understanding of the symptoms makes me wonder if many of us (even those outside of these vocations) experience this depending on the seasons of our lives,
Symptoms of compassion fatigue can include exhaustion, disrupted sleep, anxiety, headaches, stomach upset, irritability, numbness, a decreased sense of purpose, emotional disconnection, self-contempt, and difficulties with personal relationships. (Pyschology Today)
Admittedly I’ve felt all these symptoms either in isolation or combination with one another during the past year. In my work, I communicate daily with people experiencing or recovering from trauma and my irritability has been high. I’ve had to remind myself often to offer the “with-ness” I talk about here in Curious Compassion. It’s a difficult thing to offer clients who are angry and frustrated without allowing my anger or worse – numbness - to take over.
I’ve struggled to see myself as someone needing compassion amid several jam-packed years where very little has felt stable. I’m so grateful for a loving God who knows I need it and for a new therapist to listen.
Both.
A “Shall Do” That We Won’t Do
Out of ten, there are 2 commandments framed in the affirmative – meaning things we should do, as opposed to things we shouldn’t. One is to honor our father and mother, and the other is to keep the Sabbath. I find it strange how little we talk about the Sabbath in the church. In a day and age when mental health is such a huge conversation both in the larger culture and within the body of Christ, we’re surprisingly quiet about one of God’s primary ways of helping us rest. He rested on the seventh day not because He had to; God doesn’t require rest. But as a model for us. In Psalm 121:4-5 we hear the psalmist calling us to a peaceful reliance on the Lord because he does not slumber. For this reason, we can lay our troubles down, as the Sabbath commands, at least for a day. Our majestic and capable helper is on the job! But it’s not something we’re taught to think about in a culture that likes to go, achieve, and win. Instead, we work every day; whether at our places of employment or in our responsibilities to family and household.
We are most often human doings. Not human beings. I’ve discussed the sabbath in smaller friend groups of mine, and attempted to put a monthly sabbath on the calendar – but, these things are always aspirational. Like most, I’ve never embraced the idea with the kind of seriousness with which I hold the other commandments. My soul longs for it though; as an act of obedience to God and self-compassion.
Someone on social media is always beckoning us to “normalize” this, that, and the other. What if normalized Godly fulfilling sabbath rest instead of settling for the junk food version of Netflix bingeing or once-a-year PTO-approved vacations? Those things aren’t bad, but they don’t offer the kind of nourishment that we all so desperately need.
The Sabbath commandment makes no mention of needing to be earned or forfeited in the face of incomplete work. If compassion is primarily a practice of with-ness in suffering then having self-compassion is offering ourselves time with God in whatever ways we best meet with him when we need it. Some might call this self-care, but I think the biblical call to rest goes far beyond what many of us would call “me-time.” I think biblical rest calls us to acknowledge our humanity and our need to for comfort, restoration, and healing found in the arms of The Father.
Are you in need of self-compassion today? What might self-compassion look like for you this coming week?
The things of life are often hard and trauma is real, even when God is good. Here’s a reminder that anxiety and depression are not always indicative of mental health issues, but our soul’s reaction to essential needs not being met.
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In other news, I recently sat down with my amazing friend, Sarah E. Westfall to discuss compassion for others, ourselves, and the goodness of chili. ;) I hope you’ll listen and subscribe to her beautiful podcast, Human Together.
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I love the idea of getting away for a solo one day/night retreat - I envision incorporating it to this year's personal rest plan!
The field of spiritual formation has helped me put some of these things into practice, but like you, sometimes I can justify not doing them. I am about to do one from home simply because of what you mentioned as a response - hotel and airbnb check in and out times, and I just have a short opening to do it this time. (Didn’t take enough time to plan) So I am having to be intentional with my family to say for these hours I plan to be in quiet reflection. We’ll see if I make it work. You can also search monasteries in your area as they may have a better setup for quiet retreats. I plan to do that next time.