WHEN OTHER PEOPLE'S TRAUMA STARTS LIVING IN YOU: Understanding Vicarious Trauma

Trauma has a way of leaking into spaces it doesn’t belong, especially if you’re the one constantly listening, helping, or fixing.

Are you a teacher listening to a child share about violence at home?

A social worker working with children with painful pasts?

A caregiver looking after a terminally ill patient?

A nurse in the maternity ward, seeing things we don’t talk about at dinner tables?

Or even a pastor, psychologist, HR officer, boda boda rider, or mama mboga, always listening, absorbing, carrying?

If you’ve ever gone home carrying someone else’s pain like it was yours, feeling emotionally drained, unable to sleep, or wondering why you are the one crying after hearing their story, you might be experiencing vicarious trauma.

What Is Vicarious Trauma?

Vicarious trauma (VT) is the emotional and psychological impact of listening to or witnessing the suffering of others repeatedly. It’s not your trauma, but you’re absorbing it through empathy.

Where compassion is part of our culture and "being there for each other" is the norm, it’s easy to mistake this heaviness for weakness, laziness, or even spiritual attack. But it’s none of that. It’s your mind and body reacting to the weight of stories you've carried for too long without unloading.

Why we’re more vulnerable

Let’s talk real talk.

Our systems are stretched:- Teachers with over 60 students per class, nurses attending to 100+ patients per day, caregivers working with little support.

We have our own unhealed wounds:- Maybe you’re hearing stories that remind you of your past, but you never had space to process your own pain.

“Strong African” syndrome:- We’ve been told to be strong or stop being too emotional. So we keep quiet and keep pushing, until we snap.

Signs you might be experiencing vicarious trauma

Here’s how VT might show up in your everyday life:

·         You dread going to work, even though you used to love it.

·         You feel emotionally numb or too emotional after hearing someone’s story.

·         You start losing sleep or dreaming about other people’s pain.

·         You get easily irritated by small things, like someone chewing loudly or traffic at Ngong Road.

·         You withdraw from people, feel hopeless, or even question your calling.

What can you do about it?

You don’t need to quit your job or stop caring. You just need to build emotional boundaries and find tools to recharge your inner batteries.

Here are some ideas that work:

Talk to someone

Not gossip, but a safe, intentional space to talk. If you’re in caregiving or helping professions, ask for supervision or form a peer support group. Even a WhatsApp check-in group can go a long way.

Normalise therapy and debriefing

Therapy is not just for those who are “mad.” It’s for people who are wise enough to seek support. There are affordable centers across the country now (like us at Clear Point 😉).

Create emotional boundaries

When you leave work, leave it mentally too. Take a short walk, listen to music/podcast, or even birdsong; anything to reset your emotional tone. Say to yourself: “That story ends here today.”

Have a ritual of release

Wash your face. Light a candle. Take some relaxing tea as you journal. It’s not witchcraft, it’s neuroscience. Our brains love rituals. They tell us: “You’re safe now.”

Rest without guilt

You are allowed to take a break even if others are still suffering. You can’t pour from an empty thermos. Take that nap. Watch your favourite show. Laugh with your kids.

Reclaim joy

Volunteer joyfully, not dutifully. Laugh again. Dance again. Paint, plant, play. We fight trauma not just by processing pain, but by inviting back pleasure.

You deserve care too

Many of us are walking around as emotional sponges, absorbing everyone’s pain without wringing ourselves out. Next time you feel emotionally weighed down after a tough conversation, don’t just say, “Such is life.” Ask yourself: “Am I carrying a burden that was never mine to begin with?” More importantly, “Who’s helping me carry mine?”