We have all had a moment as a trauma therapist when we wondered whether we could still do trauma work. Asked ourselves if this work has ruined us. So then, how do we start to answer this question?

If you’re coming home from sessions totally wiped — not just tired, but disconnected — this isn’t about you being too sensitive. It’s about vicarious trauma. In this post, I share 3 real reasons naming it can shift how you feel, how you show up, and how you get support.

Vicarious trauma is a normal part of being a trauma therapist — not a sign you’re doing it wrong. In this post, we unpack what it really is, how to recognize the early signs, and how to work with it before it spirals into burnout. If you’ve been feeling off, disconnected, or stretched thin, this is for you.

You know what burnout feels like. But what if it’s something else?

This Mental Health Awareness Month, we’re naming vicarious trauma — not as a failure, but as a valid, human response to doing this work.

Because when you can tell the difference, you can finally ask for the support you actually need.

Therapists talk about mental health all the time — but rarely our own.

This Mental Health Awareness Month, I’m sharing what it looks like to stop whispering about anxiety, depression, and vicarious trauma… and start naming them out loud.

Because being human doesn’t disqualify you from this work. It’s what makes you great at it.

Every trauma therapist hits a point where they wonder, Can I actually do this work for the long haul? Our work is emotionally intense. It asks a lot of us. And the therapists who make it long-term? They aren’t the ones who just white-knuckle their way through. 

They’re the trauma therapists who figure out how to build a career that actually works for them.

Ever feel like your cup is completely empty as a trauma therapist? You’re not alone. It’s not a sign you care too much—it’s a sign you might not have the support you need to process the emotional weight of this work.

This feeling is called compassion fatigue. It’s an early stage of the Trauma Therapist Trauma Response, falling between vicarious trauma and full burnout. Recognizing it is the first step toward staying grounded, supported, and effective in the work you do.

Trying to fit into the mold of the "blank slate" therapist model can feel like you're on a tightrope, balancing your authenticity against a fear of overstepping. Remember those moments during your practicum, striving for that perfect neutrality and feeling more like an imposter with every step? Those experiences are more common than we'd like to admit.

Being a trauma therapist is a complicated business -  we love the work we do and know that it can be heavy. We know we're "supposed to" take care of things like vicarious trauma—after all, we're the experts. But knowing isn't the same as doing, which is often at the heart of this challenge.

As trauma therapists, we know that vicarious trauma is a normal part of the job; You can’t walk through water and expect not to get wet. But when you add the layer of racial trauma—whether personally experienced or witnessed—the weight on our shoulders can feel even heavier.

Whether you are a trauma therapist or not, you may have heard the terms Vicarious Trauma, Compassion Fatigue, and/or Secondary Traumatic Stress used in seemingly the same ways. That makes it seem like they are interchangeable but, news flash! They’re not.

The Johari Window is about self-awareness but this week you’ll see how my brain has worked to adapt this age-old technique to help you Name Vicarious Trauma and share these experiences with the people who mean the most to you.

It’s no surprise that I think all trauma therapists should name our vicarious trauma on the regular. And, if you're anything like me, you're very happy to ignore VT and burnout signs!

To get myself out, or even to prevent spiraling, I realized that I needed a better reason to check in with my VT on the regular.