I am a qualified a counsellor and have worked in schools as a child and young person’s counsellor and with adults in private practice and in the community. For years, I was the one people turned to for help with their issues and problems. I was working at one time with three job roles, as a school counselling manager, school counsellor and two evenings of private practice.

As a counsellor, I held space for countless people’s stories, some were of grief, anxiety, trauma and hope. It was my job role, and I was trained to listen, to guide, to support. I did this with my heart and soul, wholeheartedly. Feeling pride and happiness when I saw the light shine again in my clients faces and they were able to live their life fully without pain.

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But somewhere along the way, I stopped hearing my own voice.

The weight of compassion fatigue crept in quietly. I dismissed the exhaustion, the emotional heaviness, and the physical aches. I told myself over and over again I was fine, that it was just a phase. That I just needed a break. That this was part of the job.

Until my body whispered what my mind refused to hear.

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The burnout arrived not as a single moment, but as a slow unravelling, so slowly I hardly saw it coming. It began with a feeling of disconnecting, not only from my work, but also my joy, my vitality. The tools I once used to help others felt distant, ineffective, I felt depleted, hollow and empty.  I couldn’t tell anyone, I didn’t know what to say, I didn’t understand what was happening to me.  I didn’t feel like myself anymore, as a counsellor I was supposed to help people, how I could help people when I felt broken inside. Deep inside of me, beneath the surface, I quietly grieved for the parts of myself I had neglected and lost, for the healer who had forgotten to heal herself.

I eventually spoke to my clinical supervisor about how I was feeling and she told me that it sounded like I had compassion fatigue, I had never heard of this and had no idea what it was.  But when she described the symptoms it all fell into place, it was as though she had got into my head and knew how I was feeling. It felt so wonderful that somebody understood how I was feeling and what I was going through.

 

“When Caring Hurts: A Gentle Guide to Compassion Fatigue”

Compassion fatigue is often called “the cost of caring.” It’s a state of emotional, physical, and spiritual exhaustion that arises from prolonged exposure to the suffering of others, especially in home carers, counselling, medical, social work, police and healing professions.

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But it’s so much more than burnout. It’s a quiet erosion of empathy.

For me it was a slow burn, I didn’t see the compassion fatigue symptoms coming.  Arriving in the guise of tiredness and lack of concentration. The emotional symptoms were the first to appear and probably as a counsellor the most painful. I still cared about the people I worked with but it hurt to care. I began to feel numb, detached, overwhelmed by others pain.  It was so painful to listen to people’s problems that I found myself withdrawing, irritable, I questioned my purpose and my ability to help others.

“I used to feel everything. Then I started feeling nothing. And that scared me.”

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To say it was scary is an understatement, this was my job, my livelihood, in that moment I found I was unable to do it. I had difficulty concentrating or making decisions. My mind would go blank during sessions, I found myself unable to think what to say or do and how to respond to my client’s needs. This was really hard to deal with and worst of all I began to lose confidence in myself and my abilities as a counsellor. I felt like I was a failure, no good at my job, even when I was trying to do my best. A sense of helplessness, uselessness and hopelessness descended over me.

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At the height of the compassion fatigue I felt lost, alone, I didn’t know how to help myself or others.  I felt detached, numb and emotionally disconnected.  Everything that I used to enjoy doing had no meaning anymore, I felt a real loss of interest in activities I that I once enjoyed.

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Then the physical symptoms crept in anxiety, sadness, anger, panic attacks and irritability. I had difficulty sleeping and had sleep disturbances like nightmares, I would wake in the night in a sweat of panic or worry. Then the aches and pains crept in with headaches, aching in my shoulders and neck, feeling physically sick with anxiety and concern.

 

It was then that I decided that I couldn’t do my job anymore, the job that I once loved, I now began to dislike and dread. I realised that it was my role as a counsellor that was making me unwell.  What began as emotional symptoms went into physical symptoms and this began to scare me. I knew that for my own personal wellbeing I had to take a break from work, from counselling to get better, to get well again and to heal.

 

It’s really hard to explain the pain and the hurt that you feel inside when you are looking at a person in front of you who desperately needs help. When you know you could have helped once upon a time.  But now you cannot help them, you don’t know how to. Be it a client who you are counselling, a relative you are caring for or a patient on your hospital ward. To feel that all the skills and knowledge you once had as a helper have disappeared, are lost.  Instead the feeling of depletion, emptiness, helplessness, and hopelessness have replaced your joy and enthusiasm.  It is hard to explain the sadness that feels your heart inside when this happens, the heartache weighing down on your fragile shoulders.   But most of all it is the loss of yourself that is the most sad, your spirit and your soul crushed.  The person who you used to be is gone, an empty shell remains, broken and shattered. Unable to pick up the pieces, not knowing where to start, where to begin.  That’s how I felt in the midst's of the compassion fatigue.  It felt like everything I once had, everything I was before had disappeared. I didn’t recognise this person I had become,  I couldn’t find myself, I didn’t know who I was anymore, I needed to desperately find myself again.

 

My road to healing wasn’t a quick process, it was several months before I began little by little to feel myself again. I’m in a good place now but I doubt that I will ever be fully recovered from the experience.  I still sometimes shed a little tear when I think about the pain that I went through, often I do this to remind myself to keep myself safe. I still do some work as a counsellor, but my love is holistic therapies.  But these days I am very mindful of my work load, I am constantly monitoring and keeping on top of my own self-care and wellbeing.  I have to do this, it scares me to go back to when I had the compassion fatigue.

 

Compassion fatigue should be taken seriously, it effects every part of the person, emotionally, physically and spiritually.  And it very often affects the people that we need most in our society, the police, nurses, doctors, home carers, social care workers and counsellor, therapists and healers.

 

The Call to Healing

 

For my own healing journey from compassion fatigue I didn’t begin with a plan. It began with a pause.  After years of holding space for others, my own spirit felt like it was tattered and in shreds. The ache was inwards, I didn’t shout it out, it was quiet, persistent, like a colour fading from view. I knew I needed to heal, but I didn’t yet know how.

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I had lost all interest in everything, I used to love to paint, to read, I couldn’t concentrate anymore, even watching TV was a struggle.  For some reason I found doodling. I picked up a pen. Not to write a solution, but to let my hand move. With no pressure for it to be good or bad, right or wrong I drew random, lines, swirls.  I had found something that I could focus on, concentrate on, I let my mind rest while I doodled away, without intention, judgement or agenda, just lines and twirls. Then the lines became shapes. The shapes became feelings. Feelings became release.  My mind often played tricks on me and told me I was being frivolous, just sitting there doodling.  But there was nothing else I could do, I had no interest in anything else at all.  It became my place of comfort, my sanctuary, in my corner, quietly making art and doodling, while I rested my overloaded mind and focused on my healing.

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My doodling turned into small pieces of art, again with no judgement or agenda, just to sit with peace and tranquillity.  It quietened my troubled mind, slowed my breath, and calmed my heart, helping my body into a state of rest and repair. I couldn’t verbalise how I felt, I couldn’t find the words, but I could draw it. It wasn’t just making art/doodling, it was my medicine, it was the first phase to my recovery.  While doodling and making art I was able to safety tap into my mind, to gently meditate, close my mind down and think of nothing, go into a state of mindfulness. 

 

Finding Reiki - The Path of Discovery

 

One day a friend told me about a quaint little shop that sold crystals and jewellery.  I had discovered jewellery making during the covid pandemic and made my own jewellery out of crystals and gemstones. I went to see the shop out of interest.  The shop was so peaceful, so calming and spiritual.  While getting engrossed in all the crystals and gemstone I noticed a poster advertising a workshop on Reiki, the poster talked about learning to heal yourself through Reiki.  Being in need of some self-healing I was intrigued and signed up.  I had heard of Reiki but had no idea what it was and went to the workshop with a complete open mind. During the workshop we did some healing on ourselves and on others.  I was invited to go to do another day of reiki and to my surprise I had completed the Usi Reiki level one.

After discovering Reiki I was hooked, I had never experienced anything like it before.  During my self-healing and healing from others I felt a sense of peace, calmness, relaxation, I felt at one with myself.  As my body relaxed and found balance, my mind begun to unravelled bringing a sense of self compassion and kindness.  I found the clarity and understanding to know that my mind and body were hurting and that it wasn’t my fault.  With each reiki session a deep relaxation and healing passed over me and my eyes begun to open and see, I could now see hope in front of me. This was so wonderful for me as all I could see previously was darkness and sadness.   

I instinctively gave myself permission to heal, all the guilt and self damning disappeared. I suddenly realised that I had blamed myself for what happened and that it was somehow my fault, something that I had done wrong. With this understanding my mind and body began telling me how to heal myself and how I needed to do this. Reiki helped me feel again, not just emotionally, but physically. I began to notice subtle shifts like tingling in my palms, warmth in my chest, a soft release in my shoulders. My body and mind, once a battleground, became a sanctuary, with warmth, stillness and presence instead of hurt and pain.

 

People who work in the helping professions are always giving, holding space, absorbing emotion, offering support, Reiki helped me to reverse the flow. Reiki asked nothing of me, no judgement, no expectations, it didn’t ask me to be strong. It asked me to be open, it simply offered and gave. After years of helping others, I was helped, I was healing and it was the first time I allowed myself to be held. Reiki reminded me that healing isn’t something we do, it’s something we allow, and that’s our gift to ourselves.

 

It was through this that I began to see a breakthrough in my healing, although this had taken several weeks and months.   

I chose to create a healing space that feels gentle, beautiful, and deeply supportive. A space where people can exhale, release what they’ve been carrying, and reconnect with their inner strength. A space where healing is not clinical or heavy, but sensory, soulful, and empowering.

Today, my work blends everything I’ve learned, the emotional insight of counselling, the intuitive depth of Reiki, the vibrational wisdom of colour, and the grounded guidance of holistic coaching. I hold space not from depletion, but from alignment. Not from obligation, but from purpose.

The headaches and pains in my shoulders and back slowly began to ease. I practiced Reiki self-healing on myself every day along with mindfulness meditation and over time and my sleep improved.  I was on the road to healing. The change in me was phenomenal, I begun to feel alive again, at last there was hopefulness, positivity and optimism.

 

There is something quite wonderful about reiki, it brings about a sense peacefulness and deep relaxation.  When the body is relaxed it can begin the healing of mind, body and spirit.  The body has a unique innate ability to heal itself, reiki helps to shed light on what needs to heal and where to heal.  When the mind is still and present in the moment we can find clarity and knowing, helping to find solutions to difficulties. Also there is something quite soothing and comforting about therapeutic touch, the reiki healer gently laying their comforting hands on your shoulders or feet, helping to instil serenity, tranquillity and peacefulness.

 

Journaling: The Voice of My Inner Witness

 

After a while and a period of transformational healing I was able to think about my experience with compassion fatigue and I desperately felt a need to try to make sense of it.  I began to write down my thoughts and feelings. At the beginning of my journaling I wrote in fragments.
“I’m tired.”
“I miss myself.”
“I want to feel again.”

And slowly, the fragments became threads. Journaling gave shape to the fog in my head. It helped me name the unnamed. What began as a few simple words became a ritual of return, with each page and word became a step back to myself. Journaling was painful at first and hard to do.  But after a while it got easier words began to flow, thoughts and feelings flowed, pain turned into inner healing. Journaling helped me to make sense and understand what had happened.  With this knowledge I am able to put the experience to good use, to help others.  I’ve found Reiki, meditation, mindfulness.

 

I have since trained in other healing therapies, colour therapy, Indian Head Massage.  It has also changed my view of counselling.  I take into account the whole person mind, body and spirit not just the problem or the issue. I understand better how the mind affects the body, the body affects the mind, the mind body connection. I like to focus now on the positive aspects of the client issues, we all have the power to bring about positive change and transformation.

 

I am really mindful of my life style now, taking care of myself, my emotional and physical wellbeing are always my priority.  I entwine into my life self-care, self-compassion, healing and positivity.  As well as Reiki healing, mindful meditation and other healing therapies.

My life has changed in so many way, I no longer stress over the small stuff, and when I need help I get help, whether it be healing, counselling or friendships.

Mine is a story of hope and positivity, we can all heal and feel better.  Even when the road ahead looks gloomy, there is always hope, positivity and healing, it’s there in front of us, we just need to find it.

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And we can find it if we look.