Compassion fatigue is a quiet thing. Slow-moving and lacking the hostility that spurs us to action. It grows into us, gradually, and becomes a weight, rooted tightly under the skin. Unknowingly we nurture it, clinging desperately to the known. Roiled by anxiety, ironically dissociated from its source. Collectively we have yet to come to the realization that we are not the pot, but the frog.