Toni Lynn

After the last few weeks of conversations, I keep hearing the same thing: “It just feels heavy.”

And I can’t help but think about the reason for that heaviness. It is not just stress or fatigue. It is secondary trauma exposure.

We are not designed to pick up our phones and see a young woman being stabbed to death on public transportation or to watch someone being shot and killed. It does not matter if the person was an influential figure or an ordinary citizen. Human beings were never meant to witness violence and tragedy on repeat, especially from the small glowing screen we carry in our pockets.

This is one of the darker consequences of social media. We are now capable of experiencing the world’s tragedies in real time. And what is worse, we often do not even get to choose whether we see them. Graphic images and videos autoplay in our feeds, forcing us into moments our hearts and minds are not built to hold. Even more concerning is the fact that children and teens, whose prefrontal cortexes are still developing, are consuming these same images without the capacity to regulate or process them.

Here is what happens on a brain level:

Our brains can process a perceived threat as if it were a direct, personal experience, even when we only see it on a screen. Over time, repeated exposure to disturbing content weakens the brain’s emotional and stress regulation systems, leaving us more vulnerable to symptoms of anxiety, hypervigilance, and even PTSD.

In short, what we see is not just seen. It is absorbed. It lives in our nervous system.

Why This Matters for First Responder Families

For the general public, secondary trauma is now a constant, low-grade presence because of the digital age. For first responder families, the weight runs even deeper.

Spouses and children are often already carrying the burden of anticipatory stress, which is the constant quiet fear of what might happen during a shift. When graphic content of shootings, assaults, or mass violence floods social media, it does not exist in isolation. It intersects with their lived reality. It echoes the very dangers their loved one faces each day.

Think about it. When the spouse of a police officer sees a video of an ambush, or the child of a firefighter sees footage of people trapped in a burning building, their brains do not just register a tragedy “out there.” Their brains may process it as this could be my loved one. That repeated exposure compounds the stress load, leaving families more vulnerable to compassion fatigue, hypervigilance, and chronic anxiety.

For many spouses, the trauma is not only secondary. It is vicarious. Every story their officer brings home, every court hearing revisiting a critical incident, every news headline about violence can reignite that internal alarm system. Families become carriers of trauma they did not directly live through, but which still shapes their emotional landscape.

My Own Experiences with Secondary Trauma

For me, it often happens when I least expect it.

I will be scrolling social media, and the headline of an officer killed in the line of duty flashes across the screen. In an instant, my chest tightens and I am back in that space where fear consumed me. The “what if” of my own officer not coming home. The death of someone else’s spouse reignites that deep, raw fear of losing mine.

Another time, an officer-involved shooting makes the news, and suddenly I am reliving my own emotions from when my officer was involved in one. The knot in my stomach, the sleepless nights, the endless loop of what could have happened comes flooding back.

And sometimes it is just a single word. Riot. That word alone can send me back to 2020, to the week my officer spent holding the line, not knowing if he would return safe each morning. I can still feel the weight of those days. The fear, the tension, the exhaustion.

These reminders are not just stories happening “out there.” They connect directly to the lived experiences of first responder families. And they remind me that secondary trauma does not only belong to the people on the front lines. It lives in those of us who love them, too.

What We Do Not Talk About Enough

We do not talk enough about the impacts of secondary trauma exposure. Not in the world at large, and especially not within first responder families. We do not talk about how it steals rest, how it makes small irritations feel heavier, how it can sit in the body like a storm that never fully passes.

Yet awareness is the first step. Naming this weight as secondary trauma matters, because it allows us to stop blaming ourselves for “not being strong enough” and start recognizing the very real neurological and emotional toll this exposure takes.

First responder families especially need safe spaces to process this load. To admit: Yes, I feel heavy. Yes, what I saw shook me. Yes, my spouse’s world touches mine in ways I cannot always explain.

Because once we can say it out loud, we can begin to release it.

Practical Ways to Protect Yourself and Your Family

While we cannot control every image or story that crosses our feeds, we can build intentional practices that help buffer against the impact of secondary trauma. Here are a few:

1. Set digital boundaries.

Disable autoplay on social media and news apps. Give yourself permission to scroll less or take breaks entirely, especially on high-news-cycle days. Model digital boundaries for kids by talking openly about why you limit what you consume.

2. Create grounding routines.

When you feel triggered by something you have seen, use grounding techniques like deep breathing, naming five things you can see, or stepping outside for fresh air. These simple practices help signal to your body that you are safe, even if your brain is telling you otherwise.

3. Debrief as a family.

If your spouse or kids see something disturbing, do not avoid the conversation. Name it, talk about how it made you feel, and remind each other that emotions are valid. Spouses can also set aside time to gently process what their first responder has experienced on shift without needing to hear every detail. Sometimes simply saying, “That must have been heavy for you” is enough.

4. Build resilience through self-care.

Exercise, rest, and creative outlets are not luxuries. They are protective factors for your nervous system. For first responder spouses especially, having your own safe space, whether through journaling, counseling, or a supportive community, can keep you from carrying what is not yours to carry alone.

5. Know when to seek help.

If symptoms of anxiety, hypervigilance, or intrusive thoughts become persistent, reaching out for professional support is not weakness. It is wisdom.

The truth is, secondary trauma will always be part of this life, especially for first responder families. But with awareness and intentional practices, we can lighten the heaviness, protect our hearts, and keep our homes grounded, even when the world feels anything but.

---

If you want to read more about my own story, the struggles I have walked through, and the growth I have found on this journey, you will find it in my book: Silent Warriors: The Guardians Behind the Badge