Living with Secondary PTSD: When Trauma Echoes Beyond the Survivor

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, more commonly known as PTSD, is a mental illness that develops after a person has experienced severe trauma. It is not something someone chooses. It is not a weakness.

It is an involuntary condition caused by overwhelming life experiences—events that push the human body and mind far beyond their natural limits.

PTSD often affects survivors of war, genocide, natural disasters, or violent accidents. A soldier returning home after months or years on the battlefield may live in a constant state of hyper-alertness, as though the war has followed him home. A child growing up in Gaza may learn to flinch at every sudden noise, associating sound with danger after endless nights of bombs shaking their neighbourhood. Survivors of the Rwanda Genocide carry with them the horrors of what they witnessed, sometimes decades later. Even journalists and photographers who covered apartheid, wars, and corruption often develop symptoms of PTSD from years of exposure to traumatic events. Or growing up in a very volatile home, with a lot of physical beating for years, develops an onion layer of PTSD. You don’t have to go to war, be in war, or have seen traumatic things. It can happen to anyone.

This mental illness is not rare. And it is not selective. Anyone who has lived through extraordinary trauma can develop PTSD.

But here’s the part that many don’t realize: PTSD doesn’t just affect the person who lives with it. It affects everyone around them. This is where Secondary PTSD enters the picture.

What Is Secondary PTSD?

Secondary PTSD, also known as vicarious trauma or compassion fatigue, happens when someone develops PTSD-like symptoms simply from being around or caring for a person with the illness, and living alongside someone with PTSD—whether a partner, family member, or close friend—can leave you feeling like you are on constant watch.

You absorb their anxiety. You take on their fears. Without even realizing it, you become hyper-vigilant, too.

Secondary PTSD is not about blame. The person with PTSD did not choose this illness. They would give anything to live without it. But the ripple effect of trauma is real, and it can leave deep marks on the people closest to them.

PTSD: The Involuntary Illness

Let’s pause for a moment to really acknowledge what PTSD is.

It is an involuntary illness. No one wakes up and decides to live in fear, to relive trauma, or to feel unsafe in ordinary places. PTSD is the body’s survival system stuck in overdrive. The brain and nervous system become trapped in a cycle of fight-or-flight. It’s as if the traumatic event never ended, replaying itself in the mind and body again and again.

Flashbacks. Nightmares. Triggers. Sudden mood changes. Panic at loud noises. These are not signs of weakness. They are the symptoms of a mind and body trying desperately to protect themselves after trauma.

And when you spend time with someone living through this? You begin to live it with them.

Hyper-Vigilance: Living on Edge

One of the most draining aspects of PTSD is hyper-vigilance. This is when the brain is constantly scanning for danger, even when none is present. It’s not just about being alert. It’s living in a heightened state of tension, as though every sound, every shadow, and every sudden movement signals a threat.

For the person with PTSD, this is an exhausting, involuntary reaction. But for those close to them—partners, children, caregivers—the hyper-vigilance becomes contagious.

You start to feel it too. You’re always on edge. You watch what you say, how you move, even how loudly you close a door. You are careful not to trigger them, but in the process, you too become trapped in a world of “what if.”

This is Secondary PTSD in real life.

Loud Noises and the Brain’s Alarm System

I know this experience personally. I have lived with severe anxiety since I was sixteen. That alone is difficult to carry. Adding secondary PTSD to the mix has felt like a double burden—anxiety layered with trauma I did not directly experience.

Loud noises are the worst. They hijack the brain in an instant. The nervous system reacts before logic has time to intervene.

I remember one specific day in Cape Town. It was exactly noon, and the city’s famous noon gun went off. For most people in the office, it was just another daily occurrence. They hardly flinched. But for me, the explosion was earth-shattering.

My body reacted before my brain could understand. I shouted and dove under the desk. For a few terrifying seconds, I thought we were either being robbed or that an earthquake had hit. The echo of that gun rattled through my bones.

When I looked up, everyone around me was calm, unfazed, even amused. For them, it was background noise. For me, it was survival mode. My body had gone into full-blown fight-or-flight, an out-of-body experience I could not control.

That’s the reality of Secondary PTSD. You live with borrowed fear. You carry someone else’s trauma as if it were your own.

The Exhaustion of Living on Tender Hooks

Living with someone who has PTSD means being on constant tender hooks. It’s the anticipation. The tiptoeing. You prepare yourself for sudden mood changes, for sleepless nights, for unexpected triggers.

And it is exhausting. Not because you don’t love them. But because your nervous system cannot rest. You are always watching, always ready, always braced for impact.

This doesn’t mean the person with PTSD is at fault. They aren’t. It’s an illness, not a choice. But it does mean that those who care for them must recognize their own limits. Otherwise, burnout and compassion fatigue become overwhelming.

Self-Care for Secondary PTSD

If you are living with Secondary PTSD, self-care is not optional. It is necessary. To keep showing up for the person you love, you must also show up for yourself.

Take breaks. Step outside. Breathe. Speak to a therapist if you can. Build in moments of calm, even if they feel small. Remember that your nervous system also needs time to recover.

You cannot pour from an empty cup. And you cannot help someone heal if you are breaking inside.

Love, Kindness, and Showing Up

At the end of the day, living with someone who has PTSD is a test of compassion. It requires patience, resilience, and deep understanding.

Yes, it can be exhausting. Yes, it can leave scars on those closest to the trauma. But it also teaches you something powerful: the importance of kindness.

Being around a person with PTSD has taught me that love means staying, even when it’s hard. It means not judging. It means remembering that the illness is not their fault. They did not ask for it. And their life, truthfully, is harder than mine.

Secondary PTSD is a small price to pay compared to the weight they carry every single day.

Final Words

One PTSD survivor once said:

“I am not dangerous. I am just in danger—inside my own mind.”

That sentence captures the heart of this illness. PTSD is not about aggression or instability. It’s about a mind caught in a survival loop. And what survivors need most is not judgment, but love.

So if you are living with someone who has PTSD, or if you are dealing with Secondary PTSD yourself, remember this: kindness matters. Compassion matters. But so does self-care. Take breaks. Refill your cup. Then come back and keep showing up, with love and patience.

Because healing—whether it’s direct or secondary—requires both courage and care.