A quiet space for those who carry others. Caring this much is not a flaw — it's why you're worth refilling.
When you spend your days absorbing other people's pain — as a nurse, caregiver, teacher, parent, therapist, first responder, or friend who always shows up — your own reserves quietly drain. This is called compassion fatigue. It isn't burnout from too much work alone, and it isn't a sign you care too little. It shows up because you care deeply.
You cannot pour from an empty cup. Tending to yourself isn't taking away from the people who need you — it's what makes the care you give sustainable. This space holds a few small ways to begin refilling: a moment to check in, a breath to slow down, small practices to recharge, and words to rest on. Take only what helps. Leave the rest.
Six soft questions about the last couple of weeks. There are no wrong answers and no score to fail — just a mirror to notice what's true right now. This is a reflection, not a diagnosis.
Compassion fatigue creeps in slowly. A quick three-slider reading, taken weekly, draws a line you can actually see — so you notice drift before it becomes a storm.
It's easier to catch fatigue early when you know your personal first signals. Name the things that tend to show up for you before it gets heavy — so future-you can spot them coming.
Let the orb lead. Breathe in as it grows, out as it softens. Even three rounds counts.
When it's too much mid-shift or mid-moment, you don't need a plan — you need to come back to your body for sixty seconds. This is always one tap away, from any room, using the button in the corner.
Drawn from Kristin Neff's self-compassion practice. Read each slowly. A hand on your heart can help it land.
Secondary stress loves to follow you home. This is a small threshold ritual to set the day down before you step back into your own life — about a minute, with one slow breath.
Saying no or asking for help is easier with a line ready. Edit any of these to sound like you, then copy.
None of these require an empty calendar or a spa day. Pick one. Or let the moment choose for you.
Cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) is built on a simple idea: the thoughts we believe shape how we feel and act — and many of those thoughts, especially when we're depleted, aren't the whole truth. These five worksheets borrow that approach to gently untangle the harsh self-talk that fuels compassion fatigue. Fill one in below, then Save as PDF or Download your copy. You can also save a blank one to print and write by hand. These are self-reflection tools, not therapy.
When you're running on empty, your mind narrates harshly: "I'm failing them," "I should be coping better." A thought record slows that voice down and checks it against the facts — one step at a time.
What was happening? Just the facts — who, what, where, when.
What went through your mind in that moment? The exact words.
Name the emotion — guilt, anger, exhaustion, shame.
What facts seem to support it?
What doesn't fit? What would you notice if a friend told you this?
Something truer and kinder you can hold instead.
Tired minds bend the truth in predictable ways. Write down a thought that's been weighing on you, tick the patterns you can spot in it, then rewrite it with the bend taken out.
What's a fairer, more accurate version?
Fatigue grows heaviest when we carry what was never ours to hold. Sort the weight: what's actually yours, and what you can practice setting down.
My choices, my words, my boundaries, when I ask for help.
Other people's feelings, outcomes, the past, how fast things change.
We speak to ourselves in a tone we'd never use with someone we love. This worksheet borrows your own kindness and turns it inward.
Write it exactly as you'd say it to them.
Depletion quietly cancels the very things that restore us — that's the trap. This gently puts one small restorative act back on the calendar, where it belongs.
No activity is too small to count.
In CBT, distress tends to follow a chain: something happens (a trigger), it sparks an automatic thought, and that drives the feeling. Logging your triggers over time reveals the patterns beneath compassion fatigue — which situations drain you most, what thoughts they pull up, and what actually helps. Once you can see the pattern, you can plan for it. Everything you log stays on this device.
The situation that set it off — just the facts.
The words that ran through your mind.
Even "nothing yet" is worth noting.
A counterweight to the triggers. When the work felt worth it — a connection, a small win, a thank-you — bank it here. On empty days, you can come back and read them.
Compassion fatigue grows in isolation. Naming the people and places in your corner — and keeping them visible — makes it easier to actually reach out on the days that's hardest. Add the people, services, and anchors you can lean on.
Reaching out isn't a sign you've failed at caring — it's how you stay able to. If several of these have been true for a while, it's worth talking with your doctor, a therapist, or your supervisor or employee assistance program:
Please treat that as a reason to reach out now, not later. In the US you can call or text 988 (the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline) any time, or call 911 in an emergency. You deserve care as much as anyone you look after.