Vicarious trauma and sole practitioners

When we talk about vicarious trauma in the legal profession, the conversation often seems geared toward large law firms with HR departments, wellness policies and management structures in place.

But what about the solo lawyers out there – the ones quietly supporting their clients every day, often without a team to lean on?

In Queensland alone, sole practitioners make up about 41 per cent of solicitors in private practice, according to the 2022 National Profile of Solicitors. Add another 20 per cent for those in small practices, and you’ve got more than half of the profession working in settings where these types of support systems for principals might be minimal or non-existent.

So, what does a vicarious trauma policy look like for the sole practitioner, and how can they protect themselves while continuing to do deeply human and often emotionally taxing work?

To explore this, Wellbeing Working Group member and Hansen Family Law Director and Principal Solicitor Rebecaa Hansen spoke with Julie Johnston, a clinical psychologist and founder of Wellbeing Options Psychology.

“Julie has more than 20 years of clinical experience working with the trauma of others, and in training professionals to understand and manage vicarious trauma. The conversation was honest and thought provoking as we delved into this topic.”

What is vicarious trauma, really?

Vicarious trauma can creep in quietly. It’s what happens when, over time, your exposure to clients who have experienced trauma and/or traumatic content begins to affect you—your thoughts, your body, your emotions. Julie shared a diagram that showed a spectrum: on one end was effectively managing the impacts of work, then as we move along the spectrum there can be compassion fatigue, then vicarious trauma, and at the opposite end was secondary trauma or even post-traumatic stress disorder. It was a clear reminder that this isn’t just about work stress—it’s about real mental and physical health risks that can build up over time. In short, vicarious trauma is a potential health issue for those of us who are exposed to the trauma of others or traumatic content at work.

Symptoms: What to watch for

Julie emphasised that symptoms can vary from person to person, but here are some common ones:

• Ongoing trouble sleeping;
• Thoughts about work or particular matters creeping into your personal life;
• Intrusive thoughts or nightmares;
• Feeling on edge or emotionally drained;
• Withdrawing from friends, family, or colleagues;
• Low mood or depression;
• Pervasively changed beliefs about the world or other people.

One of the key things Julie pointed out is this: if your world-view is starting to shift, if you’re losing trust, joy, or hope, that’s a red flag. These changes are often subtle and gradual, which can make them difficult to detect and all the more important to monitor.

Sometimes the best clue is how your body reacts. When speaking with trauma impacted clients or viewing traumatic content, does your heart race, does your breathing change or do you experience feelings of distress or horror?  

Having these responses to objectively sad or traumatic content is normal. These physiological responses can be a sign that we have been impacted by a case or matter. Again, that is normal, but we need to attune to that impact and address it. We don’t want it to accumulate and remain unaddressed.

The legal perspective

On 1 April 2023, Work Health and Safety Queensland introduced a Code of Practice to assist workplaces manage the risks of psychosocial hazards at work. Vicarious trauma is one example of a psychosocial hazard. Under the Work Health and Safety Act 2011, employers are expected to provide a psychologically safe environment—which includes protecting staff from the impacts of trauma-related work.

Of course, if you’re a sole practitioner, you are your own workplace. That means the responsibility for creating a safe work environment falls entirely on you. And while that can feel daunting, it also offers an opportunity to shape your professional world with intention and care.

The risk and the stigma

Julie and I talked a lot about how empathy, while essential to good legal practice when working with trauma impacted clients, can also open the door to vicarious trauma. It’s a tough paradox: the very thing that makes you good at your job – your ability to listen deeply and care – can also potentially leave you vulnerable.

One harmful myth we tackled is the idea that if you’re struggling with exposure to traumatic content, maybe you’re not “cut out for the work.” Julie was quick to refute this as incorrect. These reactions aren’t signs of weakness – they’re signs that you’re human. It’s important to acknowledge our own internal stigma as well as external stigma, which can keep legal professionals from seeking support.

We need to normalise the idea that emotional and physiological reactions to traumatic content are a normal human response, and that managing them is key to maintaining our health and sustaining our ongoing professional competence.

Practical prevention and support strategies

So what does support look like for someone working solo? Here’s some key evidence informed strategies that Julie recommends, and this advice that can benefit anyone, whether you’re flying solo or leading a small team.

1. Organisational practices – even if you’re a team of one

Just because you’re a sole practitioner doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have policies in place. Draft yourself a wellbeing and vicarious trauma policy as though you’re preparing it for a large practice. Not only does this future-proof your practice, it reminds you that you are the most valuable asset in your business.

Include things like:

• Training on vicarious trauma;
• An emergency toolbox to “discharge the charge” when you do sense your own physiological and emotional responses to cases;
• Checklists for workload balance and planned rest periods.

2. Social support

Staying professionally connected can be harder when you work alone, but it’s crucial. Find ways to plug into your professional community – whether it’s through mentoring programs, peer support groups, or even informal check-ins with colleagues or a regular lunch date. Make sure you’re also nurturing social connections outside of work. Turning off your “lawyer brain” helps your nervous system reset.

3. Supervision and peer conversations

Julie encourages regular conversations about the emotional weight of the work. These don’t have to be formal sessions, perhaps regular check-ins with a trusted peer can go a long way. If possible, seek out or even start a practitioner support group where experiences can be shared without judgment.

4. Connection to the bigger picture

Julie talked about how reconnecting with what is important and meaningful to you can be an emotional anchor. Whether it’s through pro bono work, mentoring junior lawyers, or just remembering why you started practicing law in the first place, grounding yourself in meaning can help combat both burnout and vicarious trauma. Create a mission or vision statement for your practice, it helps bring direction and heart to the work you do.

5. Self-care (Beyond bubble baths)

Julie’s view – self-care isn’t a luxury. Self-care is about health care. Self-care is both a tool and a preventative mechanism to assist in preventing a range of adverse health outcomes. In some professions, it’s even considered an ethical obligation. And in trauma-exposed work like family law, criminal law, or personal injury, it absolutely should be.

But self-care needs to go beyond surface-level fixes. It’s not just about relaxation and it’s not a one size fits all – it’s about ongoing awareness of, and attention to your emotional, physical, and mental health.

That might mean:

• Regular exercise;
• Ensuring you are getting adequate sleep and addressing any sleep related difficulties;
• Time in nature (garden, park, hikes, beach);
• Scheduled breaks from trauma-heavy work;
• Speaking with a therapist or coach;
• Setting boundaries around work hours and client access.

Final thoughts: Think like a firm, care like a human

The biggest takeaway from my conversation with Julie? Treat yourself the way a responsible employer would treat their team.

Draft a vicarious trauma policy. Take regular stock of how you’re really doing. Be honest with yourself. Build systems that support you. And don’t underestimate the power of community, even if it’s just a small circle of peers.

Because in the end, your wellbeing isn’t just a personal matter, it’s a professional one. And taking care of yourself today is one of the most powerful ways to take care of your clients, your practice, and your future health.