Making a powerful choice to leave AND come back

In the almost 15 years I’ve been supporting animal welfare pros, I’ve learned that many people who work in animal shelters AND feel reasonably healthy have something in common.

Is it therapy? A trust fund? Supportive friends? Liveable wages? A ringworm kink?

I mean, sure. All of that would help, but that’s not what I’m talking about.

Lots of people who are doing pretty OK while working in animal shelters did this:

They quit.

No, really. They couldn’t take it anymore, felt like shit, and left animal sheltering altogether.

They started working in private veterinary clinics, pet stores, and nonprofits that had nothing to do with animals.

But then…

They decided to go back.

By giving themselves permission to leave and explore their options, they discovered that they really missed working in the shelter.

Turns out, the vet’s office was boring. The nonprofit’s mission didn’t light them up.

They missed the meaningfulness of their old jobs, the faster pace, directly supporting vulnerable animals and people, and the absolutely disgusting sense of humor they shared with their former coworkers.

Turns out people who work in, let’s say, environmental nonprofits do not want to talk about explosive diarrhea over lunch. #Knowyourpeople

So they went back to sheltering, either to their old organization or a new one (with better working conditions), but this time around they had new skills, perspective, and support strategies.

They set boundaries from day one with themselves, peers, staff, and bosses around their availability, roles, compensation, and expectations.

They went back knowing the work would be emotionally, physically, spiritually, and mentally challenging. So they committed to noticing their early warning signs and asking for more support.

The job hadn't magically changed. But they had. And that changed their experience of the work.

Here’s the biggie:

Doing the work became their choice.

Before, they felt like they couldn’t leave. The animals and their coworkers depended on them to stay. They thought, who am I if I’m not doing this work?!

Until, finally, they couldn’t take it anymore and left under a dark cloud of guilt and shame. 

But now, after some time passed, they knew they could survive leaving. They knew the animals and their team could do the work without them. 

They also knew there were other jobs out there that might pay better or be less stressful. But they learned that wasn't what they wanted.

So they chose to return to sheltering, knowing things they hadn't known the first time around.

And when things got hard, they could remind themselves:

It’s my choice to be here. I was bored at the clinic. I want to be here. I chose this particular flavor of stress.

That doesn't mean they don't get angry, sad, or exhausted by impossible working conditions and unrealistic expectations from their bosses or communities.

It means they know they have choices, big and small ones, and that gives them a sense of power over their lives. 

Sometimes the choice really is to leave your job  (ask me how I know). But sometimes we can make meaningful choices that will support our wellbeing…without quitting.

We can choose to set boundaries with systems that never will, get more support, change our perspective, reconnect with joy and meaning, recalibrate our expectations, learn to recover from the intensity of the work, and recognize when we're struggling before we're completely depleted.

Laura van Dernoot Lipsky wrote: “Nothing has to change in the world for us to transform our own life experience.”

And guess what?

I just made a powerful choice, too.

I’m choosing to relaunch Compassion Fatigue Strategies this year!

CFS is the course I taught through the University of Florida for 10 years. It’s been two years since I last taught it, and now that I’ve had some space from it, I realized something:

I miss it.

I miss being in a multi-week course with you, sharing the tools, ideas, connections, and strategies that can help transform your experience of work, no quitting required (unless you want to and we can talk about that!).

I miss watching everyone realize they're not alone as they connect with and learn from each other.

And I miss being in the room with animal people who care deeply about this work and have a truly dark, disgusting sense of humor about the things nobody else wants to hear about while they eat lunch.

So I'm bringing it back.

The name is the same (we’ll talk about that next week), but the course is being updated as you read this.

This time, it will live on my own online platform rather than UF’s learning system, so it’ll be much easier to access.

The course starts on October 26, with an early-bird discount through September 26.

If you're curious, take a look at the course page. And if you have questions, hit reply!

Compassion Fatigue Strategies

P.S. If you're in Maine or NH: My friend Jen Howlett and I are hosting a small Hands + Hearts gathering in September at the MSSPA in Windham. We'll spend three hours making tiny memorial altars and sharing stories about animals we've loved and lost. It's open to anyone who's experienced animal loss, personally or professionally. There are only 12 spots (10 as of this writing), so if this sounds like something you'd like to be part of, check this out!