Opinion: The weight of caring
As global crises escalate, the emotional toll on individuals is becoming impossible to ignore. But let’s not burn out, rather, let’s build resilience
By Dishita Swaika, Dr Moitrayee Das
In the span of just a few months, we have witnessed wave after wave of devastation. A brutal attack in Pahalgam. Heightened tensions between India and Pakistan. A fatal stampede during a victory celebration in Bengaluru. A devastating plane crash in Ahmedabad. Violent conflicts in the Middle East. Mass deportations and raids in the United States. The list goes on.
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Every day, many wake up with a quiet sense of dread, bracing themselves for a new headline of death, conflict, loss, or injustice. Despite this, we are somehow expected to continue with life unfazed. This begs the question: How does one continue to live, work, feel joy, or simply exist in a time that feels increasingly unsafe and unjust?
The truth is: we don’t. Many of us are just about getting through the day. While not everyone may feel the same intensity or form of distress, many are noticing subtle shifts in their mental health. Research shows that vicarious exposure to traumatic content, even through media, can activate the same stress response as direct exposure to trauma (Fallahi, 2017). Often referred to as “vicarious trauma” or “secondary traumatic stress” (Guitar & Molinaro, 2017), this condition is becoming increasingly common in today’s hyper-connected world.
Collective Trauma
When our nervous system recognises threats, it kicks into the fight, flight, or freeze mode, an ancient biological survival mechanism that helps us respond to danger. However, prolonged activation of this system can lead to nervous system dysregulation, where we constantly oscillate between hypoarousal (numbness, dissociation, and helplessness) and hyperarousal (anxiety, irritability, and hypervigilance) (Corrigan et al, 2011).
These responses may also manifest physically as headaches, gastrointestinal issues, muscle pain, difficulty falling or staying asleep, or a general sense of bodily discomfort without a clear medical cause (Wyatt, 2024). Vicarious trauma is not just a psychological experience — it is embodied — affecting our entire system. What we often criticise as being “too sensitive” or “dramatic” is just our nervous system trying to cope in a world that feels increasingly unsafe.
Our brains and bodies register the threat as real because, in many cases, it is happening to someone who looks like us, lives like us, or shares our identity, and that makes the fear that we could be next deeply visceral. Alongside this fear comes guilt: guilt for turning off the news, while it remains others’ reality, guilt for laughing with loved ones or enjoying small joys while others are mourning, and guilt for not doing enough, even though our hands often feel tied. For some, this shows up as survivor’s guilt, ie, the disorienting sense of how we may have just been saved by a stroke of luck (Leonard, 2019).
In a world that often urges us to individualise our pain, choosing to reach out — and allowing others to reach us — is a reminder that we heal in relationships, not in solitude
The psychological impact is not confined to individuals alone, but is a form of collective trauma where we are seeing history rearrange itself in ways headlines cannot fully capture. For those watching from the outside, there is a moral pressure to stay informed. We feel we should know, should care, should act. Staying informed also becomes a desperate attempt to feel some sense of control over prevailing uncertainties.
We refresh news feeds, scroll endlessly through social media, hoping this will make us feel safer, more prepared, or at least a little less helpless. Termed ‘doomscrolling’, this compulsive consumption of negative news leaves us feeling worse, trapping us in a cycle of fear, hypervigilance, and exhaustion (Krenn, 2025). In trying to walk the thin line between responsibility and well-being, we absorb faster than we process — until we feel frayed and numb. Further, when we become so consumed by how the news makes us feel, we risk turning inward and missing the opportunity to engage in meaningful dialogue or action.
What You Can Do
And so, what can we do? The answer is not to numb ourselves completely or to deny reality, but to stay regulated enough to survive, and sometimes even to feel alive. Regulation is not about tuning out, but about finding the capacity to engage with the world without feeling consumed by it.
Start with the body: simple grounding techniques like practising slow, intentional breathing, doing a body scan (noticing how each part of your body feels), holding an ice cube, or practising the 5-4-3-2-1 technique where you name five things you can see, four you can touch, three you can hear, two you can smell, and one you can taste, can signal to your nervous system that you are safe in the present moment (Raypole, 2019). It also helps to create small safety rituals like taking breaks from news consumption, surrounding yourself with comforting textures or smells, having a familiar routine, listening to music, or journaling.
In times of collective trauma, connection becomes one of the most powerful antidotes to distress. Reaching out to a loved one, sitting in shared silence, or even grieving together can offer a sense of grounding and belonging. These moments remind us that we are not alone, and that others, too, are navigating this experience.
In a world that often urges us to individualise our pain, choosing to reach out —and allowing others to reach us — is a reminder that we heal in relationships, not in solitude.
As we navigate this time, it is clear that caring deeply is both a gift and a weight. While it is important to stay informed and advocate for equity and justice, it is also important to recognise the emotional toll it can take. It’s easy to feel that resting or caring for yourself is a luxury when the world is hurting. But in reality, it’s what allows us to care in sustainable and sincere ways. Burnout and dysregulation serve no one. Rest, too, is a form of resistance. So is joy.
We need people who care deeply to bring about change, but we also need people to feel supported, grounded, and held. Step back when you need to. Rest, and reconnect with others. Cry, rage, hope. And when you’re ready, come back to the world, not from a place of guilt, but care— for others and for yourself. Your presence, voice, and well-being all matter. And so does the work ahead. Especially now.
If things feel too heavy to carry, know that help is available. Here are some free mental health helplines in India that offer confidential, non-judgmental support: Tele-MANAS (14416, 24×7), iCall (9152987821, Mon-Sat, 10 am-8 pm), Sangath (011-41198666, Mon-Sun, 10 am-6 pm), Vandrevala Foundation ( 91-9999666555, 24×7), MPower Minds (1800-120-820050, 24×7), and Fortis Mental Health Helpline ( 91-8376804102, 24×7).
(Dishita Swaika is Postgraduate Psychology student at Tata Institute of Social Sciences. Dr Moitrayee Das is Assistant Professor of Psychology at FLAME University)
