Danielle Nelson is a practicing therapist and Licensed Clinical Social Worker (LCSW) who focuses on sexual health and wellness, trauma and recovery, self-esteem and resilience building, and general mental health concerns. Though Danielle is a trained professional, this column is not a substitute for advice or care provided by your licensed medical or health care professional.
Before we get to this month’s inquiry, I want to talk about how exposure to the suffering and distress of others affects us. Vicarious trauma (sometimes called secondary traumatic stress) happens when you’re exposed to someone else’s distress often enough—or intensely enough—that your nervous system responds as though the trauma actually happened to you. Vicarious trauma is most commonly used in the context of people whose work requires them to engage in painful material (think health care workers, therapists, first responders, etc.). But you don’t have to be in the line of duty to experience it. You just need an internet connection and a few hours of reading.
When exposed to reports of maltreatment, abuse, and exploitation, like the contents of the Epstein files, your brain doesn’t neatly file the content as “informational.” Instead, your brain responds to the imagery, cruelty, and injustice as real threats and reacts accordingly. Summaries of graphic allegations coupled with appalling institutional failures can lead to intrusive thoughts, nightmares, emotional numbing, and feeling increased vulnerability and fear. You may feel hypervigilant or compulsively drawn to seek out more details while simultaneously regretting you looked in the first place.
Hypervigilance is a protective reflex—a state of intense alert where the brain constantly scans the environment for potential danger, even in safe situations. If you have a history of trauma or PTSD, your risk for vicarious trauma is higher, as exposure to the abuse of others can trigger echoes of your own experiences.
If you need support, The New Orleans Family Justice Center has trained staff along with excellent resources. This also might be a good time to process your response with a licensed therapist who can help you navigate the complex emotions you may be feeling.
Remember: having a visceral response to the suffering of others doesn’t mean you’re fragile. Experiencing a heightened emotional reaction means you’re a human being capable of deep empathy.
Sadly, while the horrors persist, we still have to get groceries. We still have to pay the bills. We still have to navigate our own tender, and very human, dilemmas. We are in this together—holding massive existential dread and managing our personal dramas at the same time. Which brings us to the question sitting in one reader’s mailbox.
I just got invited to my ex’s wedding. We were together for three years and broke up very amicably just over two years ago. We haven’t stayed in touch, but we share many friends. I’ve never met their new partner and I haven’t spoken to them in over a year. On paper, it feels polite and grown-up to go. I just worry that I could be one wrong facial expression away from becoming a cautionary tale. I love weddings and I’m friends with a lot of people who will be there, but I don’t know if attending makes me gracious or masochistic. Is there a socially correct way to show up to an ex’s wedding without making it weird—or is declining the invite the most mature move, even if it makes me look like I’m not “over it”?
Being invited to an ex’s wedding is one of life’s more absurd social conventions. In a way, a kind gesture, but in another, it’s like being invited to a ribbon cutting for a structure you helped build, but were later escorted out of. There’s no emotionally “correct” response here. Wanting to go doesn’t make you immature, and declining doesn’t make you somehow more evolved. This wedding invitation is not a subpoena. You are not legally required to show up and demonstrate growth, closure, or how well-adjusted you’ve become since the breakup. Weddings are largely about managing family expectations and negotiating seating charts. The real question at hand isn’t whether or not attending would be gracious, but whether or not attending would be good for you.
As much as you may enjoy weddings, that alone isn’t reason enough to go. While this could be a lively, friend-filled wedding, it also remains a commitment ceremony for a person you cared for, but are no longer committed to. It could bring up a lot of emotions you may not have even realized you’re feeling. With that in mind, the last thing you need is a dysregulated nervous system (potentially fueled by alcohol) leading you down a path that could end tearfully in a reception hall bathroom. You wouldn’t be the first, but I really don’t want that story for you.
So, let’s get to the bottom of the real issue: Is attending a good idea? Are you able to attend without analyzing the couple’s body language, making comparisons, and wondering if there are Easter eggs in the vows that are directed at you? If the answer is yes—then go confidently. Catch up with old friends, dance, leave early, and call it a win. However, if you have a feeling that the night is hinging on a confirmation of some kind—like your attractiveness, your resilience, etc.—then skip it. This is not the event to conduct that particular thought experiment. An open bar, string quartet, and an unresolved relationship narrative is the perfect setting for a breakdown.
If you do go the route of declining, remember that you don’t need justification or a back story. You don’t owe anyone a speech or explanation about readiness or emotional growth. If you RSVP no, that is a complete sentence.
As you weigh this decision, it may be helpful to consider that the goal is not to be “gracious” or “polite.” The goal is to do what makes you feel safe and emotionally intact.
If you need to speak to someone right away, call 504-269-COPE (2673). The COPE crisis line provides free, confidential crisis counseling, suicide prevention and information, and mental health referral services 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.
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