In the wake of the recent floods in Texas, many of us are feeling a deep, collective pain. Even if we weren’t directly impacted, the weight of this tragedy—the loss of children, families, and entire communities—has stirred something profound. For many, it’s grief. For others, fear or helplessness. For some, it’s an overwhelming emotional heaviness that’s hard to name.

Over the past few days, I’ve noticed the emotional weight lingering in small but meaningful ways—trouble sleeping, a couple of unsettling dreams, and moments of anxious thoughts about my child’s safety. And then I find myself thinking about the pain and suffering of those directly impacted by the floods—the families who’ve lost loved ones, the communities forever changed. I know I’m not alone in this experience. If this post helps one person feel even a little less alone, then maybe it’s a small way to be of service while my heart is hurting too.

Why Our Reactions to Tragedy Are Normal

When we hear about the deaths of children, especially in a place that was supposed to be safe, our protective instincts are activated. Our bodies react as if the danger is here, now, in our own homes. Our minds respond by trying to anticipate, prepare, prevent, and protect. It’s not because we need to be “stronger.” It’s evidence that we care.

Feeling grief, fear, or heartbreak when others are suffering doesn’t mean anything is wrong with you. In fact, it reflects your capacity for empathy and connection.

In the aftermath of tragedy, many people feel a quiet guilt about returning to normal life, whether that means laughing with their kids or enjoying a moment of calm. It can feel wrong to experience joy or relief while others are in pain. But your suffering does not ease theirs. Allowing yourself to feel moments of lightness is not a betrayal of empathy; it is how we stay grounded and able to keep caring.

Still, for some, the emotional toll can extend beyond sadness and grief, affecting daily life, straining relationships, and lingering longer than expected.

What Is Vicarious Trauma?

If you’ve been experiencing:

Nightmares or restless sleep
Intrusive thoughts about the trauma, your safety, or your loved ones
Avoidance of reminders of the event (such as news or certain places)
Hypervigilance or a sense of dread
Difficulty concentrating or relaxing
Guilt for being safe when others aren’t
Feeling detached from loved ones or from yourself
A sense of helplessness, hopelessness, or overwhelm when witnessing others’ pain

…you may be feeling the impact of vicarious trauma—the emotional aftermath of witnessing suffering, even from a distance.

It’s important to remember: feeling shaken, heartbroken, or heavy after a tragedy is a natural response. But vicarious trauma goes a step further. It can mirror symptoms of post-traumatic stress and tends to last longer or feel harder to manage on your own. Vicarious trauma can affect anyone, but it’s especially common in helpers: therapists, medical professionals, teachers, first responders, and caregivers. It can also impact people with their own history of trauma or loss.

If distress is starting to interfere with your daily life, making it difficult to focus, meet responsibilities, or care for yourself, it’s important to seek help.

Avoiding situations, frequent intrusive thoughts or nightmares, panic episodes, or changes in your relationships or physical health are signs that your nervous system is under strain. If symptoms are persisting or getting worse over time, therapy or medication can help. You don’t need to wait until things feel unmanageable.

**If You’re a Parent**

It’s okay to hold your child tighter right now. It’s okay to be terrified by the what-ifs, even as you try to focus on what’s real and here and safe. Your brain is trying to make sense of something senseless. Your body may need comfort, even when your rational mind knows your child is okay. You don’t have to hold it together all the time. You can be scared and grateful at the same time, and you can hold heartbreak for other families while honoring the tenderness of your own.

If your child has heard about what happened, whether through peers, the news, or bits of conversation, talk about it gently and honestly. Keep it simple and age-appropriate. You might say, “Something very sad happened in the Texas Hill Country. There was a big flood, and some people died. Helpers are there now, and we’re safe here.”

If your child asks questions, respond with calm, honest reassurance. If they ask why it happened, you might say, “Sometimes there are big storms or floods in certain places. Most of the time, people are safe, but when something happens suddenly, it can be hard to stop.” It’s okay to acknowledge that natural disasters can be unpredictable, while also reminding them that you’re prepared and that there are many people—like weather experts, first responders, and helpers—working hard to keep communities safe.

They don’t need perfect answers. What they need is to feel seen, heard, understood, and safe with you. Let them lead the conversation. If they aren’t asking questions, that’s okay too. Offer quiet reassurance through routine, connection, and comfort, and let them know they can always come to you if they’re feeling unsure or worried.

If You’re a Helper

For those in helping roles, such as therapists, educators, healthcare workers, first responders, these moments can stir up a familiar ache.

You’ve likely spent years training to hold space for others’ pain, yet some losses reach a part of us that no amount of training can protect.

There’s a temptation to compartmentalize, to keep going, to stay composed. We don’t need to keep this pain at a distance. We need to care for ourselves while we carry it.

That might mean offering yourself the same tenderness you extend to others: softening expectations, doing a little less for a while, taking breaks from the news, or reaching out to someone who feels grounding. Maybe it means canceling a non-urgent task or texting a friend just to say, “Today feels heavy.” You might choose to write something, pray, donate, or simply sit quietly and acknowledge: This is a lot.

These small choices matter. They are acts of care. Being affected by tragedy doesn’t mean you’re doing something wrong. It means your heart is open, and that same heart deserves tending too.

A Few Things That Might Help

You don’t need a perfect plan or a checklist right now. But here are a few gentle offerings, in case something here speaks to what you need:

Let yourself pause. It’s okay to take breaks from the news or from conversations that feel too heavy. You can care deeply and still protect your nervous system.
Soothe your body. Wrap up in something soft. Take a warm shower. Move slowly. Play music that settles you. These small acts can remind your body that it’s safe right now.
Name what’s happening. Try telling yourself, “I’m feeling this because I care.” That simple acknowledgment can create just enough space to breathe.
Hold your emotions gently. When feelings become intense, imagine holding them like a delicate balloon—not squeezing too tightly or trying to push them away, but simply letting them float beside you. You don’t have to control every emotion to move through it with care.
Stay connected. You don’t have to explain everything you’re feeling. Even a simple message—“I’m feeling off today”—can open the door to support.
Channel your care. If it feels right, you might write something, donate, pray, or light a candle. Acts of compassion—no matter how quiet—can help transform helplessness into connection.

These practices aren’t about fixing your pain or making everything feel okay. They’re about tending to yourself with care. Imagine your nervous system as a garden—it may feel trampled, dry, or overgrown right now. What it needs isn’t judgment or urgency. It needs sunlight, water, and patience. A little protection from the harshest elements. The quieter you become, the better you can hear what that garden needs today.

You don’t have to do all of these. You don’t have to do any of them right away. Just know that caring for yourself is doing something. And it’s enough.

Feelings as a delicate balloon:

When feelings become intense, imagine holding them like a delicate balloon—not squeezing too tightly or trying to push them away, but simply letting them float beside you.

For Families, Survivors, and First Responders

While this post was written for those feeling the ripple effects from a distance, I want to honor that for many, this isn’t distant at all. This is your family, your home, and your community.

To those grieving unfathomable loss—and to those who bore witness and tried to help—I see you. There are no words that can make this right. But there are people holding space for you, even from afar.

If you’re in the midst of grief, in shock, or unsure how to take the next step, I hope you’re able to surround yourself with people who will sit with you, help you breathe, feed you, and walk with you through this season.

Resources & Ways to Help

If You’re Grieving or Need Disaster Relief

You don’t have to go through this alone. Here are some resources that may offer support in the days and weeks ahead:

Disaster Distress Helpline – 1-800-985-5990 or text “TalkWithUs” to 66746
Free, 24/7 crisis counseling for people affected by natural disasters.
National Alliance for Children’s Grief – www.childrengrieve.org
Resources for families and professionals supporting grieving children and teens.
The Trauma Foundation – www.traumafoundation.org
Information and tools for processing trauma after disaster.
Local Texas Mental Health Support – Visit 211Texas.org or dial 2-1-1 for help finding nearby services, shelters, or counselors.
Texas Disaster Relief Fund (TDEM) – Texans can apply for FEMA disaster assistance online at disasterassistance.gov or by calling 800-621-3362.

Ways to Offer Help

If you're looking to turn compassion into action, here are meaningful, verified ways to help:

Donate to Verified Relief Efforts

Central Texas Food Bank
Providing meals to families affected by disaster and food insecurity across Central Texas (centraltexasfoodbank.org)
Team Rubicon Disaster Response
Mobilizing veteran-led emergency response teams to provide relief and recovery support in disaster-affected communities (teamrubiconusa.org)
Community Foundation of the Texas Hill Country – Kerr County Flood Relief Fund
Established to support local nonprofits, first responders, and municipal recovery efforts (communityfoundation.net)
Texans on Mission
A statewide nonprofit that has deployed disaster relief teams, offering food, chaplaincy, and logistical support (texansonmission.org)
Mercy Chefs
Delivering hot, chef-prepared meals to survivors, first responders, and volunteers in Kerr County (mercychefs.com)
Austin Pets Alive!
Providing veterinary care, shelter, and foster services for displaced pets in flood-affected areas (austinpetsalive.org)

Support Mental Health Services

Donate to organizations providing trauma-informed care to affected communities.
Share mental health resources with your local networks.

Write, Pray, or Light a Candle

Acts of compassion don’t have to be public to matter. Holding space in your own way counts.

Check in on Helpers

If you know someone working in healthcare, emergency response, or education in impacted areas, a simple message of support can mean everything.

Take Gentle Care

I don’t have the perfect words for something this painful. But I hope this gives you permission to feel, to rest, and to offer yourself care.

Tending to ourselves when the world feels heavy isn’t a luxury—it’s part of how we keep going. Not by numbing or pushing through, but by pausing and remembering that we’re not alone in how much this hurts.

If you need support—or just a place to feel understood—know that Tella Psychology is here. And if we can’t help directly, we’ll do our best to connect you with someone who can.

Take gentle care of yourself. And let the softness you give to others, touch you too.

— Dr. Jessica Klement

How to Cope After the Texas Floods