Is It Okay to Self Care During Trauma? A Personal Journey

When the Weight Feels Too Heavy

Life has a way of throwing us curveballs that knock the breath right out of us. Recently, I found out that my 12-year-old nephew has so much trauma that he’s been diagnosed with PTSD.

At twelve.
Twelve.

The kind of PTSD so severe that sometimes he relives his trauma in real-time. He’ll be people he knows and loves, and then his mind twists into this memory so he doesn’t even recognize them. He hides, he begs for help, he panics about people hurting him or his brother coming for him. And I’m left sitting there with my heart shattering into a million pieces because—how do you protect a child from something you can’t see?

And then the truth came out. The trauma. The pain. At the hands of his bio mom and siblings. It’s a lot. It’s too much. And I don’t think we’ve even scratched the surface yet. I know he’s not comfortable sharing everything, and honestly? I don’t know if I’m ready to hear it all either.

Meanwhile, my own sibling—his parent—is drowning in guilt. He blames himself, even though none of this was his fault. Watching him spiral in his own pain while also trying to hold his son through the storm is gut-wrenching.

And me?

Well, I’ve got my own baggage. Depression. Anxiety. Living in constant fight-or-flight mode. Usually, when there’s a problem, I’m the first one the family calls. And honestly? I don’t usually mind. My nieces and nephews are like my own babies. I would do anything for them. No hesitation.

But here’s the thing I’ve learned in therapy: I numb my feelings. I just… shut them off. And I thought that was working for me until it wasn’t. It’s like the universe (or God, or the Goddess, or whoever’s listening) said: “Oh, so you want to learn how to feel? Okay, bet. Here’s every emotion at once—good luck!”

And now, I feel like I’m drowning. My anxiety is sky-high. I can’t sit in silence without wanting to break down and cry. Sleep? Forget about it. The second I close my eyes, I see my nephew curled up in the fetal position, begging for someone to help him escape the monsters of his past.

And I can’t save him.
And that hurts me so much.

So what do I do?

I keep circling back to this thought: maybe I need to step away for a few days. Turn my phone on Do Not Disturb. Give myself space to breathe. Regain my senses. Because if I don’t, I know I’m going to break—and if I break, I can’t be there for my brother and his kids the way they need me.

But then this ugly little voice whispers: is that selfish?
And I don’t know anymore.

All I know is this: trauma doesn’t just affect one person. It ripples. It spreads. It touches everyone around it. And we all have to find our own way to survive it, to heal it, and to not lose ourselves in the process.

So maybe—just maybe—self-care isn’t selfish. Maybe it’s necessary. Maybe it’s the only way I can stay strong enough to keep showing up.

💜-Keep trying to find the good vibes!
Kimmie