A reader asks how to cope with heavy feelings when you see human suffering every day — for example, homeless people struggling with severe addiction — but feel unable to change anything. This question about empathic distress and secondary trauma concerns many people in a modern world where social inequality and crises are often visible. In Seattle, Washington, this reality is especially pronounced. Central parts of the city, such as Downtown, the area around Third Avenue and Pine Street, and zones along Interstate 5, are most affected by the homelessness and addiction crisis. Everyday life here encounters an increase in sidewalk and park encampments, safety and sanitation problems, creating pressure on local businesses and public services.
The author, a professional psychotherapist, admits she faces this difficult issue daily in her practice. She thinks not only about those who witness suffering from the outside, but also about clients who have personal experience of addiction or who are supporting loved ones in such situations. Realizing one’s own powerlessness in the face of the scale of others’ problems can cause feelings of defeat. This feeling is exacerbated by visible social inequality, when the luxury office towers of tech giants like Amazon and Microsoft sit alongside tents of the homeless. High incomes in that sector have driven a sharp rise in housing costs, which directly worsened the affordability crisis and intensified debates about fairness and corporate responsibility.
A common reaction to pain — both among those who have experienced trauma and among witnesses — is its “minimization.” This is a defense mechanism that helps temporarily distance oneself from unbearable emotions. However, if you constantly downplay your own and others’ experiences, it interferes with fully feeling and building deep connections with yourself and others.
When witnessing suffering that cannot be directly influenced, people experience a whole range of feelings: from sadness and fear to anger and a desire to immediately “fix” the person or situation. That desire to help can be motivating, but it also becomes a source of pain and disappointment when quick solutions are impossible, especially when it involves loved ones in cycles of addiction. In Seattle, local organizations are actively working on systemic solutions, such as DESC (Downtown Emergency Service Center), which provides emergency housing and mental health support, and Plymouth Housing, which focuses on permanent supportive housing. Their work creating supportive housing is considered one of the most effective long-term responses to the crisis.
If you are in a relatively stable emotional state, you can practice a cycle of working with feelings: acknowledge the emotion, give it expression, and then let it go. It’s important to accept the fact that no one has the power to change another person against their will. This does not negate the possibility of helping through volunteering or support, but it recognizes the limits of our control. At the same time, collective efforts often run up against local specifics. The so-called “Seattle process” — a tradition of prolonged public discussions and consultations — according to critics, often leads to delays and bureaucracy, slowing urgent decisions about building housing or opening shelters.
A key element in this work becomes faith. The author, as a practitioner, cultivates a resilient faith in the possibility of change. This faith is based on personal experience observing people overcome extremely difficult circumstances and on the conviction that each person instinctively moves toward a better version of themselves — both personally and socially.
Systemic solutions are indeed necessary for large-scale change. Collective well-being would improve significantly if everyone’s basic needs were met: safe housing, access to clean water and food, a sense of security, and social connections. Working to build such a future requires not succumbing to despair over the current state of affairs.
Ultimately, the author invites the reader to consider a counter-question: what helps you keep faith personally? Perhaps it’s a practice of acceptance, working with suppressed feelings, or activity in your community. Finding your own answer is part of the path to emotional balance.
Based on: How to cope when you’re surrounded by suffering | The therapist is in