Recognising and Addressing Secondary Trauma in Caregivers
Recognising and Addressing Secondary Trauma in Caregivers
I’ve lost count of the times I’ve heard caregivers say, “I’m
fine,” with that quiet weariness behind their eyes, the kind that doesn’t speak
loudly but seeps into the bones. I’ve said it myself more times than I can
remember.
But here’s the truth: caring for people who are hurting hurts.
And if we’re not careful, that pain doesn’t just pass through us—it plants
itself within us. That’s the nature of secondary trauma.
What Is Secondary Trauma?
Also known as vicarious trauma, secondary trauma
happens when we absorb the emotional pain of those we care for. We might not
have experienced the trauma ourselves, but through witnessing it, holding space
for it, and supporting others through it, we carry it.
It’s especially common in professions like nursing, social
work, therapy, military support roles, and informal caregiving. And for those
of us who are veterans, spouses of veterans, or have lived through trauma
ourselves, it hits even harder. The stories we hear echo the ones we’ve lived.
The pain we see in others stirs what we thought we’d already processed.
And suddenly, our own nervous system is stuck in survival
mode… again.
How It Showed Up for Me
There was a time in my career when I was managing a care
team, supporting families, holding space for people, and trying to be strong at
home for my husband, who lives with CPTSD. I wore so many hats that I forgot I
had a head underneath them.
I started snapping at people I loved. I had nightmares I
couldn’t explain. I’d sit in my car after work and just stare at the steering
wheel, numb. I didn’t feel like me.
And yet… I kept going. Because that’s what caregivers do,
right? We keep going.
Until we can’t.
Signs of Secondary Trauma in Caregivers
Recognising it is the first step toward healing. Here are
some common signs:
- Emotional
numbness or irritability
- Persistent
fatigue or insomnia
- Difficulty
concentrating or making decisions
- Avoidance
of reminders of work or caregiving
- Feeling
helpless, hopeless, or cynical
- Physical
symptoms—headaches, gut issues, aches and pains
- A
shift in worldview—feeling less safe, more mistrustful
Sound familiar?
Why This Matters
If we don’t acknowledge and tend to secondary trauma, it
builds up like pressure in a dam. Eventually, something gives: burnout,
illness, breakdowns in relationships, or an exit from the work we once loved.
And that’s not weakness. That’s a very human nervous
system doing its best to cope with prolonged exposure to pain and suffering.
As caregivers, we’re often praised for our compassion, our
strength, and our resilience. But rarely are we supported in recovering
from the emotional toll that compassion demands.
How We Begin to Heal
1. Acknowledge the Cost of Caring
It’s okay to say, “This is affecting me.” In fact, it’s
vital. Just naming it helps bring us back into regulation. You don’t have to be
falling apart to be impacted.
2. Build Nervous System Awareness
Practices like breathwork, grounding, somatic movement, and
mindful pauses can help discharge the stress we carry. As a somatic
trauma-informed coach, I often say: you don’t need to think your way through
trauma—you need to feel your way safely out of it.
3. Create Micro-Moments of Recovery
You don’t need a weeklong retreat (though wouldn’t that be
nice?). Start with small, consistent actions:
- 3-minute
breathwork in the staff room or in the loo! Yes! I have done that. 😄
- A
walk without your phone
- Saying
“no” when you’re at capacity
- Lying
down and listening to your own heartbeat
These are not luxuries—they’re lifelines.
4. Talk About It
Whether it’s with a supervisor, a peer support group, a
coach, or a therapist—talking helps metabolise the emotions. I co-facilitate
trauma-informed peer support because I’ve lived the difference it makes when
someone says, “I get it.” And means it.
5. Reconnect With Your ‘Why’
When you’re drowning in emotional exhaustion, it’s easy to
forget why you started caring in the first place. Reconnecting with your sense
of purpose can be a quiet but powerful anchor.
You Matter, Too
If you’re a caregiver, hear this:
Your needs are not less important than those you care for.
Your pain deserves space, too.
You are not weak for feeling tired, frustrated, or overwhelmed.
Secondary trauma doesn’t mean you’re doing something wrong.
It means you’re human with a heart big enough to hold others—and that heart
needs holding, too.
Let this be your reminder: caring for yourself is
caring for others. It’s the most radical, necessary, and powerful act of
leadership we can embody.
Let’s keep this conversation going. Have you experienced
secondary trauma as a caregiver?
What helps you cope or come back to yourself?
Drop a comment
below—I’d love to hear from you. 💜
With love, Caron.
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