When the World’s Pain Becomes Our Own: Understanding Vicarious Trauma and Finding Your Way Back to Steady Ground
- Griffin Oakley
- 13 minutes ago
- 4 min read
These are heavy days. No matter which community we belong to, all of us (or, someone we love) has been affected by political shifts, policy changes, or the relentless blame games that dominate the news cycle. We’re exhausted. The ground beneath us keeps moving, and it’s hard to find our footing, to know whom to trust, or how to care for others without abandoning ourselves in the process.
And while we try to stay grounded, the world keeps burning. Wars rage. Families are displaced. Graphic images of loss and destruction fill our feeds. Closer to home, we’re told that social benefits are being stripped “for the greater good” while prices rise and futures feel uncertain.
We want to care. We should care. But somewhere between the news scroll and the daily grind, our nervous systems can’t keep up. That’s where this conversation about vicarious trauma begins.
This piece is a companion to my earlier blogs,➡️ When It Feels Like the Rules Only Apply to Some People and➡️ Take Care of Your Heart and Mind, which both explore the emotional toll of living through instability and how we can reclaim our sense of agency, compassion, and care.
What Is Vicarious Trauma?
Vicarious trauma (sometimes called secondary trauma) is the emotional residue of witnessing or learning about another person’s suffering. It’s what happens when the world’s pain starts living inside our bodies.
This term first emerged in trauma therapy research (McCann & Pearlman, 1990) to describe what happens to counselors, healthcare workers, and first responders. But the truth is, none of us are immune anymore. Social media, 24-hour news cycles, and constant crisis updates have made us all involuntary witnesses.
Over time, this exposure can change how we see the world — leaving us anxious, numb, or deeply fatigued, even when our own lives are “fine.”
How It Shows Up (and Why It’s So Hard to Name)
Vicarious trauma can look a lot like other things — PTSD, anxiety, depression, even burnout. Sometimes it sneaks in through exhaustion or irritability before we realize what’s happening.
Common signs include:
Feeling emotionally drained or cynical
Trouble sleeping or constant worry
Avoiding the news or doom-scrolling compulsively
Feeling helpless, guilty, or over-responsible for others’ suffering
Questioning your faith, values, or purpose
Losing interest in things that used to bring joy
Feeling numb, detached, or overly vigilant
Physical tension, fatigue, or stomach issues
Because these symptoms overlap with other mental health concerns, they’re often dismissed — especially by helpers who tell themselves, “Other people have it worse.”
But pain is not a competition. It’s information.
When Helping Hurts
Many of us were taught to put others first — to help, fix, or carry more than we can hold. That instinct is beautiful, but it’s also dangerous when it comes at the expense of our own wellbeing.
Think of the oxygen mask metaphor: if you’re on a plane and the cabin loses pressure, you’re told to secure your own mask before helping others. Every time I hear that, I picture someone waving that off — “No, no, I’ll be fine, let me help my neighbor first” — and then passing out before they can save anyone.
It’s a darkly funny image, but the truth isn’t funny at all. Research shows that caregivers who neglect their own needs experience significantly higher rates of burnout, compassion fatigue, and illness (Figley, 1995). The survival rate — emotionally, professionally, sometimes even physically — plummets when we don’t tend to ourselves first.
So no, self-care isn’t selfish. It’s survival. And it’s how we make sure the compassion we give others actually has somewhere to come from.
Evidence-Based Ways to Heal and Reground
Below are practices drawn from trauma research and cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) — something I integrate often in my work providing cognitive behavioral therapy in Portland and throughout Oregon. These tools can help regulate your nervous system and restore perspective when the world feels too heavy.
These are simple practices, but they’re also profound. Healing doesn’t have to be dramatic to be real.
If You’re Feeling It Too
If you’re reading this and recognizing yourself — please know this: you are not broken. You are having a human response to an inhuman amount of information, grief, and uncertainty.
This is the moment to pause, breathe, and give yourself permission to be cared for, not just caring.
As an individual therapist and trauma-informed therapist in Oregon, I see this every day: when people finally give themselves permission to rest, everything begins to change. The mind steadies. The heart softens. The body starts to trust safety again. That’s where healing starts.
Putting It All Together
The world is hurting — and so are we. But pain doesn’t mean powerlessness.
When we learn to care for ourselves while caring for others, we don’t disconnect from the world — we stay connected longer. With more stamina. With clearer vision. With the capacity to do good without losing ourselves in the process.
That’s how we survive. That’s how we help. That’s how we make it through.
For more ways to stay grounded and supported, you can revisit:
🪞 When It Feels Like the Rules Only Apply to Some People — about navigating systemic instability and injustice, and
💛 Take Care of Your Heart and Mind — about tending to your own emotional landscape in chaotic times.
If you’re in Oregon and need support, I’m here. Whether through cognitive behavioral therapy in Portland or individual therapy wherever you are in the state, you don’t have to hold this alone.
🌐 www.curiousmindcounseling.com 📞 971-365-3642 ✉️ griffin@curiousmindcounseling.com
