Navigating Post-Election Trauma in The Law School Classroom: Lessons From Guatemalan Worry Dolls
Marjorie Florestal
Transformative Education & Resilience Coach: Empowering the Next Generation of Leaders with Trauma-Informed Practices
The other day, I wandered through a Christmas market in a bustling tourist town on Mexico’s Mayan Riviera. I wasn’t thinking about the post-election fallout—or so I told myself. Yet, as someone who studies trauma and healing in the law school classroom, I couldn’t outrun the questions that had followed me across the border: What will this moment of political upheaval mean for law students, especially those tied to the communities now under siege? How will law professors navigate their teaching obligations while bearing witness to a rising tide of trauma in the classroom?
Determined to quiet my mind, I had accepted a friend’s invitation to the market, though I had no interest in the tourist trinkets cluttering the stalls.
And then I saw them.
Tucked amid a jumble of seashell bracelets, oracle decks, and Mayan warriors carved out of fishbone was a stack of tiny dolls, no bigger than my thumb. Their traditional Mayan dresses, crafted from fabric scraps, were woven with intricate, vivid patterns. Their painted faces and closed eyes radiated serenity, yet they seemed to hum with a quiet, lifelike energy.
I reached for one, and the vendor leaned in with a knowing smile. “These are Mu?ecas Quitapenas,” she said. ”Worry dolls. You tell them your troubles and put them under your pillow at night. While you sleep they will dry your tears and take your worries away.”
For only fifty pesos, how could I resist?
As I walked away with a tiny doll nestled in my hand, I could not have imagined the profound lessons it would teach me about bearing witness to the pain of others without losing heart. After everything I learned, I wish I could place a Mu?eca Quitapenas under the pillow of every law student and professor in the academy.
Alas, as a former trade lawyer, I am keenly aware of the harm commodification and mass production can inflict on the artisans and communities that bring these cultural symbols to life. While I can’t bring the dolls to you, I can share the extraordinary story of how the Mu?cecas Quitapenas came to be—and how they can help us navigate vicarious trauma.
In this post, we will examine how law professors can confront the challenges of vicarious trauma and support their students effectively in the face of adversity. We’ll begin by defining vicarious trauma and exploring how it operates. From there, we’ll discuss how it alters perception, identity, and professional purpose, particularly for those in high-empathy roles like legal educators.
Finally, we’ll draw inspiration from the Guatemalan worry dolls to uncover practical strategies for navigating these challenges with resilience and compassion.
What Is Vicarious Trauma?
Vicarious trauma, often called “the cost of caring,” refers to the emotional and psychological toll of bearing witness to the pain and suffering of others. Unlike primary trauma, which results from directly experiencing a distressing event, vicarious trauma stems from our capacity to empathize deeply. At its core, it reflects the sometimes-painful burden of human connection—when prolonged exposure to others' suffering causes us to internalize their emotional pain as our own.
While primary trauma often stems from a single, overwhelming event, vicarious trauma does not happen all at once. Instead, it builds gradually, layer by layer, through repeated exposure to the suffering of others. What makes vicarious trauma particularly insidious is this slow, subtle onset. It often goes unrecognized in the early stages, as its effects can masquerade as ordinary stress or fatigue. Early signs such as irritability, persistent exhaustion, or a loss of joy are easily dismissed as the natural byproducts of a demanding workload or personal responsibilities. Yet, as time passes, the emotional weight becomes harder to ignore.
The slow progression distinguishes vicarious trauma from secondary traumatic stress, which is a more immediate and acute emotional response to another person’s trauma. While secondary traumatic stress can feel like a sudden shock, vicarious trauma reshapes one's emotional and psychological state over time, altering perceptions, relationships, and our sense of self in profound ways.
How Vicarious Trauma Works
Vicarious trauma arises through a complex interplay of neural, emotional, and physiological processes. It does not stem from a single system misfiring but rather from multiple systems in the brain and body interacting. Brain activity (neural), deep emotional attunement (emotional), and stress-related physical responses (physiological) reinforce one another over time, with each layer amplifying the others, gradually resulting in a profound emotional toll and reshaping how we process and respond to the world around us.
Neural Processes
Neural processes refer to the brain’s mechanisms for interpreting and responding to what we see, hear, or feel. In the context of vicarious trauma, these processes involve mirror neurons—specialized cells in the brain’s motor cortex that activate both when we perform an action and when we observe someone else performing it. Mirror neurons are the foundation of empathy, allowing us to “feel” what others experience.
When we witness suffering or hear traumatic stories, these neurons amplify the emotional resonance we feel, making the pain of others seem immediate and personal. Over time, this repeated activation overstimulates the brain’s emotional pathways, triggering stress responses as though we ourselves are under direct threat. This neural mirroring explains why witnessing trauma can feel deeply personal and overwhelming, even when we are not directly involved.
Emotional Processes
The brain’s emotional networks, particularly the amygdala (which processes fear and emotional responses) and the prefrontal cortex (responsible for rational thought and regulation), play a central role in vicarious trauma. When repeatedly exposed to distressing experiences, these emotional pathways become overstimulated.
What begins as a natural empathic response can escalate into difficulty regulating emotions, leaving individuals more vulnerable to stress, irritability, or emotional exhaustion. Over time, emotional pathways that are repeatedly activated can weaken the brain’s ability to differentiate between external trauma and one’s own emotional safety, further intensifying the experience of vicarious trauma.
Physiological Processes
Humans are hardwired for emotional resonance—a deep attunement to the feelings of others. When we empathize with someone’s suffering, our bodies often respond as if we are experiencing the trauma firsthand. This resonance activates the sympathetic nervous system, the body’s “fight-or-flight” mechanism, which prepares us to respond to perceived threats.
In vicarious trauma, this stress response is triggered repeatedly, leading to physical and emotional exhaustion. Over time, the hypothalamic-pituitary-adrenal (HPA) axis, which governs the body’s stress response, becomes dysregulated. When the HPA axis is chronically overactivated, the following symptoms can emerge:
Together, these neural, emotional, and physiological mechanisms explain how vicarious trauma develops slowly and cumulatively, reshaping our emotional state, physical well-being, and perception of the world. Understanding this process is essential to recognizing its impact and finding ways to mitigate its effects.
How Vicarious Trauma Alters Our Perception, Sense of Self, and Professional Identity
Vicarious trauma disrupts what psychologist? Ronnie Janoff-Bulman termed the “assumptive world”—our internalized beliefs that the world is generally safe, predictable, and just. These assumptions shape how we navigate life, grounding us in a sense of stability and meaning. However, when exposed repeatedly to stories of violence, systemic injustice, and human suffering, these core beliefs begin to erode. What once felt secure becomes fragile; the world may start to feel inherently unsafe, unpredictable, and unjust. This gradual shift can replace optimism with hypervigilance, compassion with cynicism, and trust with a profound sense of despair.
In high-empathy professions like law, where individuals routinely encounter trauma—whether through legal cases, systemic failures, or the suffering of vulnerable clients—this erosion affects both personal identity and professional purpose.
For many, the deep well of compassion that once connected them to their work becomes a burden. Joy and optimism may give way to emotional exhaustion, while trust in others diminishes, replaced by a sense of detachment or numbness. Over time, those who once found meaning in their roles may begin to withdraw—struggling to connect authentically, feeling isolated, or questioning the very purpose that drove them to serve others in the first place.
The impact of vicarious trauma can be especially profound in the legal workplace. The weight of witnessing systemic injustice, violence, or suffering can breed cynicism and disillusionment. For law professors and students, this might manifest as frustration with the legal system’s inability to deliver justice or create meaningful change. What begins as passion for advocacy or teaching can turn into a growing sense of hopelessness.
To cope with this emotional toll, individuals often adopt unconscious strategies like detachment and numbing—checking out emotionally, reducing empathy, or moving through their work mechanically. While these responses may serve as temporary defenses, they ultimately lead to decreased satisfaction, a sense of going through the motions, and a loss of connection with one’s work.
As trauma scholars Pearlman and Saakvitne describe, vicarious trauma can result in a “shattering of meaning”—a dissonance between the harsh realities of trauma and one’s original motivations for entering their profession. This internal conflict may culminate in burnout, disengagement, or a crisis of professional identity.
The effects also extend to cognitive patterns. Over time, repeated exposure to others’ trauma rewires how we think about the world and ourselves. Individuals may begin to view the world as inherently unsafe or unjust, develop mistrust toward institutions and even personal relationships, or adopt a pervasive sense of helplessness. Hope, once a motivating force, may feel na?ve or impossible to sustain.
Vicarious trauma does more than merely exhaust us—it reshapes us. It distorts the way we perceive the world, erodes our sense of self, and challenges the meaning we once found in our work.
Understanding these changes is essential for addressing their impact and finding ways to reconnect to purpose and resilience.
Why Law Professors and Students Are Particularly Vulnerable to Vicarious Trauma
Vicarious trauma does not affect everyone equally. Those whose roles require them to listen, observe, or respond to the suffering of others—whether professionally or personally—are particularly at risk.
For law professors and law students, this risk is especially pronounced. Their unique position as both witnesses and advocates places them in direct emotional proximity to stories of systemic injustice, violence, and human suffering. Over time, this sustained exposure can become a cumulative burden, particularly for those who possess a strong capacity for empathy.
In the classroom, the emotional toll of vicarious trauma can be subtle yet profound. A professor guiding students through cases of racial violence, family separation, or human rights abuses may unknowingly carry the emotional weight of these narratives. Even as they teach, their empathy quietly activates neural and emotional processes, amplifying the distress they witness.
For students, this exposure often intensifies in legal clinics, where they work directly with vulnerable clients. Whether assisting an immigrant facing deportation or a criminal defendant confronting an unjust system, students may find themselves internalizing their clients’ pain. Though they are not the ones experiencing the trauma firsthand, their close proximity to suffering can result in emotional exhaustion, guilt, or a profound sense of helplessness.
Empathy, while essential for connecting with and supporting others, is a double-edged sword. The same emotional attunement that allows professors and students to engage meaningfully with their work also makes them more vulnerable to absorbing the pain of others.
As one of my trauma teachers described it, this is a form of “unmanaged empathy”—a tendency to over-identify with another’s suffering while losing one’s own grounding. Learning to strike what we called the “50-50” balance—being fully present for others while staying rooted in one’s own body—is crucial but difficult to master, especially in professions built on compassion and advocacy.
The risk of experiencing vicarious trauma is heightened for those with unresolved personal trauma, as their ability to maintain emotional boundaries may already be compromised. This makes them more likely to internalize the suffering of others.
A lack of support systems—whether among colleagues, friends, or formal networks—further exacerbates the risk by leaving individuals without safe spaces to process their emotional responses. Combined with workplace stress, heavy workloads, limited institutional resources, and the isolating nature of legal education, the emotional toll can quickly become overwhelming.
The emotional toll of vicarious trauma demands more than recognition; it requires tools for release and resilience. In an unexpected place, I found a small, symbolic reminder of this—an ancient tradition with a deceptively simple solution: the Guatemalan Mu?eca Quitapenas, or "worry doll." The story offers a powerful lens through which to explore how we might lighten the burdens we carry.
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Healing Vicarious Trauma: Ixmucane and The Legend of The Mu?ecas Quitapenas
Long ago, high in the mist-shrouded highlands of Western Guatemala, there lived a young girl named Ixmucane.
In other tales, you will come to know Ixmucane as the goddess of corn—a primordial figure in the sacred creation myth of the Popol Vuh. She was the first woman and one of the divine grandparents of the K’iche’ people, who have lived for centuries among the high peaks, lush forests, and shimmering lakes of the Mayan homeland. But in this story, Ixmucane is not yet a goddess. She is simply a young girl, both blessed and burdened with an extraordinary gift.
The villagers believed that the sun god, Kinich Ahau, had bestowed upon Ixmucane the ability to solve any problem, no matter how great or small. Revered for her wisdom, she became the heart of her community.
One day, a terrible storm struck the village, destroying everything the people had built over generations. The villagers, desperate and overwhelmed, came to Ixmucane, pouring out their fears:
“My children are hungry. How will they eat?” “My roof is gone. Where will I sleep?” “My fields are drowning. Will the rains ever stop?”
Ixmucane listened to every voice, every cry. She listened with care and without judgment, never turning anyone away. She held the people’s pain in her heart as though it were her own. But the more Ixmucane absorbed, the heavier her spirit grew. After days and weeks of carrying the weight of other people’s sorrows, she could no longer eat or sleep.
One sleepless night, as she lay beneath the watchful gaze of the stars, Ixmucane desperately sought a reprieve. She gathered scraps of cloth and string and fashioned a tiny doll, whispering to her new friend: “Take this burden. Carry it for me, so I may rest.”
She placed the doll beneath her pillow and, for the first time in weeks, fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. When morning came, she awoke refreshed, feeling lighter than she had felt in a long time.
The villagers, noticing her transformation, begged her to make dolls for them as well. So she did. With each doll they placed under their pillows, the people found solace. Over time, these tiny figures became known as Mu?ecas Quitapenas—“worry dolls,” sacred tokens of release and renewal.
In the villages of the Maya, where life is both beautiful and arduous, the worry doll became a cherished tradition. It reminded the people that burdens, no matter how heavy, need not be borne alone.
The mountains may stand immovable, but the human heart must find a way to lighten its load.
Applying the Lessons of Vicarious Trauma: Strategies for Law Professors
This election season has unleashed a storm of emotions, which will inevitably find their way into the law school classroom—from fear and anger to exhaustion and hopelessness. For many of our students, especially those from marginalized communities, the political landscape isn’t just abstract; it’s personal, even threatening. Our students bring their fears and frustrations into the classroom, looking to us for guidance, for reassurance, for solutions.
As law school educators, we often stand in the shoes of Ixmucane. We hold our students’ stories, creating a space for them to be seen and heard. In the process, we bear witness to their pain. But like Ixmucane, we can only carry so much. Bearing witness is sacred work. It is also exhausting.
The Mu?ecas Quitapenas offer us a powerful lesson. They teach us to honor the act of listening without becoming consumed. By sharing the burden—whether with a trusted colleague, a journal, or even a ritual of letting go—we can continue to hold space for others without losing ourselves in the process.
Like Ixmucane, we must find ways to release the burdens we carry.
Vicarious Trauma Self-Assessment Checklist
Recognizing the signs of vicarious trauma is crucial for law professors and students who regularly engage with clients' traumatic experiences. To assist in this self-assessment, the following checklist has been adapted from resources provided by Yale Law School's Five Habits of Cross-Cultural Lawyering and the International Society for Traumatic Stress Studies (ISTSS).
Indicators of Dysregulation
Emotional Indicators:
Physical Indicators:
Cognitive Indicators:
Behavioral Indicators:
Spiritual Indicators:
Reflective Questions:
Next Steps: If you identify with several of these indicators, consider the following actions:
Regular self-assessment using this checklist can help law professionals and students recognize early signs of vicarious trauma, enabling timely intervention and support.
Conclusion
In this post-election season, as we navigate the collective anxiety within our classrooms, we must learn to bear witness to the pain of others without losing sight of ourselves.
Bearing witness to trauma is not necessarily about fixing or solving problems. It is about doing our jobs to the best of our ability while holding space with compassion for the parts beyond our control.
And when the burden becomes too heavy, we must also give ourselves permission to share the load with a trusted community member. Like Ixmucane, we can only serve others when we remain whole.
Marjorie Florestal, JD, MA, PhD Student in Human Development. Certified in the NeuroAffective Relational Model (NARM) for trauma healing. Trained in Mindfulness-Based Meditation.
Alyssa Johnson, Esq.