“Pagod ka na ba?” is a question casually asked in daily conversations. Lately, however, it carries more weight. In a country where everyone seems to be juggling personal hardship, political tension, and economic strain, exhaustion has become collective.
What the Philippines faces today isn’t just individual burnout; it is the toll of living in a never-ending state of crisis.
Even before the pandemic, the Philippines was under mental and emotional pressure. In 2016, Oplan Tokhang, the Duterte administration’s anti-drug campaign, left thousands dead and entire communities gripped by fear.
Then came COVID-19, and pushed healthcare workers and local frontliners to their limits. Many resigned or went abroad just as other crises mounted: the divisive 2022 elections, escalating tensions in the West Philippine Sea, and surging inflation that made basic goods unaffordable.
On top of that, disasters like the 2020 Taal Volcano eruption and successive typhoons left communities in a near-constant cycle of recovery.
Through it all, the Filipino spirit of bayanihan—coming together in times of crisis—remained visible. From feeding drives during lockdowns to volunteer rescue efforts, collective action has long been a lifeline. But even that spirit is showing signs of strain.
What psychologists call compassion fatigue, or the emotional and physical exhaustion after prolonged exposure to suffering, is now surfacing across entire sectors. Once mainly observed in healthcare and social work, it is now quietly affecting teachers, volunteers, and soldiers.
During the pandemic, nurses endured long hours, poor protection, and public hostility. Many faced threats and discrimination, leading to burnout and resignations that worsened staffing shortages.
In Baguio City, schools had to introduce academic breaks as faculty and students reported fatigue and mental distress from prolonged online learning. Even the military reported cases of PTSD among soldiers deployed in conflict zones, citing years of accumulated trauma and lack of mental health support, both in the lack of programs and infrastructure.
These aren’t isolated cases; they reflect a broader emotional depletion that’s weakening the country’s ability to respond and recover. When people give and give, crisis after crisis, without rest, even the strongest bayanihan spirit begins to fade.
And in a country long praised for its resilience, that fatigue may be the clearest warning sign yet.
