Why Traditional Self-Care Isn’t Enough for Trauma Workers

This isn’t another blog post telling you about self-care because mental health work is “hard.”

**It’s a post honouring you as a steward of trauma.**

When you’re a mental health professional, you don’t just "do a job".

You sit with people in some of the hardest, darkest, most uncertain moments of their lives.
You hold stories that don’t have neat endings.
You witness suffering you can’t always fix.

That’s not just “hard work.” That’s the work of trauma stewardship.

A steward of trauma is someone who intentionally cares for themselves and others while navigating hardship, suffering, and crisis.

It means showing up with presence while knowing what is — and isn’t — within your control. It means building daily practices to sustain your nervous system, rather than absorbing pain until you collapse under it.

This is what I wish I’d understood earlier in my own career.

When Vicarious Trauma Showed Up in My Life

When I think back to my first years as a psychotherapist, what stands out most is how heavy it all felt. I was constantly scanning job postings, convinced the problem was the team, the organization, or the caseload. Surely somewhere else it would feel lighter.

But no matter where I was, I dreaded walking into my office and seeing that tiny blinking light on my phone. A new voicemail. To me, that light meant bad news.

An upset parent.
A client in the hospital.
A new crisis I didn’t see coming.

My nervous system braced every single time — like the light itself was something to fear.

At the same time, I was pouring out all my emotional energy at work. By the time I got home, I had nothing left for the most important relationships in my life. I’d tell my partner or friends, “I’m so drained.” And I meant it.

Even when I wasn’t at work, my mind wasn’t my own. I’d loop through client stories, worry about who was on the brink of crisis, question whether I had done enough, or if I had failed in some way. It was exhausting, and it didn’t stop when I walked out of the office.

A Turning Point

The turning point for me came during a workshop on vicarious trauma. I didn’t expect it to land so deeply, but something cracked open.

For the first time, I felt seen. Someone was naming what I was living every single day. It wasn’t just “watch out for burnout” it was about the deeper reality of carrying other people’s pain. The facilitator introduced the concept of being a steward of trauma.

That word — steward — changed everything for me.

It reframed my role from “helper who needs to be endlessly strong” into something more sustainable and more human: someone who carries stories with care while also tending to their own well-being.

Stewardship implied responsibility, yes, but also privilege. It meant I couldn’t ignore my own needs and expect to keep showing up.

Why Traditional Self-Care Didn’t Work

Of course, I did what most people do. I tried therapy. I sat on the couch, I talked it out, I analyzed, I sought insight. But as a practicing therapist, I couldn’t turn off my mental analyzer part. I found myself evaluating the interventions, thinking about what I would have done in their place. Needless to say, it didn’t get me very far.

What finally made a difference was shifting from purely cognitive approaches to body-based practices.

Yoga.
Meditation.
Breathwork.

These practices helped me do something with the trauma I was carrying. They gave my nervous system a way to release the stories I was holding, rather than letting them sit and tangle deeper.

I realized vicarious trauma wasn’t just in my head. It was in my body, too. And that’s where healing had to happen.

Later, when I discovered EFT Tapping, it felt like a missing puzzle piece. Tapping helped me sit with and process emotions, explore what was mine versus what belonged to others, and return to my centre.

As a highly sensitive person who feels deeply, this practice gave me a way to increase my capacity without being swallowed by other people’s pain.

Looking Back With Compassion

When I think back to that earlier version of myself… the overwhelmed, exhausted and convinced the only solution was to find a new job — I wish I could tell her this:

It’s not about escaping. It’s about capacity.

You can expand your ability to feel, to witness, to care without losing yourself in the process. You can learn to steward trauma in a way that is sustainable. And you don’t have to do it alone.

An Invitation to You

If any of this resonates with you, maybe you’ve been carrying too much, too. Maybe you’ve noticed vicarious trauma creeping into your relationships outside of work, draining your energy, or leaving you bracing for the next crisis.

What would it look like if you treated yourself as a steward of trauma instead of just a “helper”? How would it change your relationship to your work — and to yourself — if you honoured the weight you carry while intentionally caring for your own body and mind?

You don’t have to keep pushing through until there’s nothing left.

If you’re ready for more support, I invite you to explore my offerings: