I have always heard the phrase “compassion fatigue,” but I’ve never related to what it really means. I have felt extremely sad or devastated about a cruelty case we did or an animal’s abuse, but I’ve never felt those feelings enough to want to quit or to feel completely defeated. Usually even when our rescues are difficult and heartbreaking, we save what animals we can, we keep moving to heal the animals, and we tell their stories. Even in the face of extreme suffering I have always tried to stay compassionate and strong, using the pain to work even harder.

For the first time in the 17 years of The Gentle Barn, I think I know what compassion fatigue is. The cruelty of humans and the suffering of animals has finally gotten to me; this week I have really struggled. I have found it difficult to get out of bed and I have felt unmotivated to do anything, believing that nothing I do truly makes a difference. I felt like I couldn’t move in the face of giant, worldwide greed, domination, and devastation.

At first I allowed myself to just feel the pain; I stayed in bed, watched some TV, disconnected from the suffering, and went numb a little bit. Then I started sorting through the grief and tried to understand where it was coming from. I spent time remembering the animals that we have saved that suffered so much and had to work so hard to heal and overcome. I thought about those we were not able to save: their faces, their eyes, their innocence. And I cried for days.

Ultimately at the end of the week I had a choice to make: let the pain engulf and cripple me, or continue my work. Was I going to stay in bed for the rest of my life? Was I going to quit the Gentle Barn and go bag groceries somewhere? Or was I stronger than that? Would I get up and try harder?

I kept feeling the urge to go out of the house, as if a voice was whispering in my head, “just get up and go outside.” I followed my feet to a place at The Gentle Barn, shrouded by mountains, overlooking the horses, cows, and upper barnyard simultaneously. I let Mother Earth have my weight, closed my eyes, and breathed in deeply. I could feel the most amazing energy! This life force, love, goodness, hope, was all around me and it was filling me with inspiration and courage. It strengthened me and called to me. It reminded me that, yes, there is much we need to do, much darkness and despair, but there is also so much light and love and goodness. And it is everywhere! All I needed to do was listen to the birds serenade me, feel the wind kiss my cheek, sit in the earth and feel mother nature embrace me, and watch the animals at The Gentle Barn live the lives that all animals deserve. It brought me back to goodness. It set me back on my track, so that I can continue to save more animals, heal more children, and bring more light to all of us.

If you have experienced compassion fatigue, or are just simply having a hard time, please come out and hug a cow, cuddle a turkey, give a pig a tummy rub, and experience the joy and the hope that exists here. It will be sure to strengthen, inspire and heal you; it definitely healed me!

Ellie Laks
Founder, The Gentle Barn