You make me stronger

We talk about vicarious trauma. We should also talk about vicarious resilience.

The therapist sits across from someone who has been through the unthinkable. Session after session, story after story, wound after wound. The conventional wisdom says this takes a toll. That repeated exposure to pain creates pain. That we absorb what we witness.

And it's true. Trauma exposed professionals - therapists, counselors, first responders - carry more than their share. The weight of other people's worst moments can crush the helper just as surely as it crushed the person who lived through it.

But here's what we miss when we focus only on the cost: There's another side to this coin.

It works both ways

When we witness someone else's trauma, our unconscious empathy kicks in. We mirror their experience, feel echoes of their pain. This is the mechanism behind vicarious trauma, and it's real and documented and important to understand.

But that same mirror reflects something else entirely when we watch someone heal.

When we see someone who was broken become whole again. When we witness the moment they realize they're stronger than what happened to them. When we watch them discover they can not only survive but thrive.

The mirror works both ways.

What Really Happens in That Room

Yes, we're exposed to trauma. But we're also exposed to something more powerful: the incredible capacity of human beings to heal.

Three things happen when you spend your days watching people overcome the impossible:

1️⃣ First, that unconscious empathy that mirrors trauma also mirrors triumph. Your nervous system doesn't just absorb the distress - it absorbs the recovery. It learns, at a cellular level, that healing is possible.

2️⃣ Second, every client who gets better reinforces a fundamental truth: We all have the capacity to overcome. Not just them. Not just some people. Us. All of us. The strength isn't rare or special or reserved for the lucky few. It's human. Which means it's yours too.

3️⃣Third, when helping others is why you got into this work in the first place, watching that help create real change becomes fuel rather than a siphon. Each success story doesn't just help the client - it anchors the helper in the knowledge that this work matters.

The Choice We Don't Talk About

Here's the thing about repeated exposure to both trauma and resilience: It's not automatic which one wins.

The therapist who focuses only on the wounds will burn out. The stories will pile up, the weight will become unbearable, and eventually they'll either leave the profession or become cynical about the possibility of real change.

But the therapist who consciously chooses to be inspired by resilience? Who looks for the strength in every story, who celebrates the small victories as much as they acknowledge the deep wounds? They don't just survive - they thrive.

This isn't toxic positivity. It's not pretending the trauma doesn't exist or minimizing the very real impact of vicarious exposure to pain. It's recognizing that in the same room where someone shares their darkest moment, they're also demonstrating their courage. The fact that they're there, talking about it, working on it, is already an act of resilience.

The Paradox of Professional Helping

The helping professions have a paradox at their heart: The very thing that can destroy us is also the thing that can make us stronger.

Every first responder knows this. Every teacher knows this. Every healthcare worker knows this. Every parent knows this.

You sign up to help people through their worst moments, and you discover something remarkable: People are incredibly strong. Stronger than they know. Stronger than you expected. Strong enough to survive things you wouldn't wish on anyone, and then strong enough to help others do the same.

The question isn't whether you'll be exposed to trauma in these roles. You will. The question is whether you'll also let yourself be exposed to resilience.

The Ripple Effect

When you let yourself be inspired by others' resilience, something interesting happens. You become more resilient yourself. Not just in your professional life, but in your personal life, too.

The boundary between vicarious resilience and actual resilience starts to blur. The strength you witness in others starts to feel accessible to you. The healing you facilitate in your office becomes a template for healing in your own life.

And then - this is the beautiful part - that increased resilience makes you better at your job. More present with clients. More hopeful about outcomes. More creative in your interventions. More capable of holding space for both pain and possibility simultaneously.

The Choice Point

Every day, every session, every interaction with someone who's hurting, you have a choice.

You can focus on how broken they are, or you can focus on how brave they are for being there.

You can absorb their trauma, or you can absorb their courage.

You can let their pain weigh you down, or you can let their strength lift you up.

The same experience that creates burnout in one therapist creates inspiration in another. The only difference is what they choose to pay attention to.

The Work That Changes the Worker

The best therapists know something the burned-out ones don't: This work doesn't just change the client. It changes you, too.

If you let it.

If you pay attention not just to what's broken but to what's healing.

If you notice not just the wounds but the wisdom that grows from them.

If you remember that resilience, like trauma, is contagious.

And if you choose to catch it.